Disclaimer: All characters and storylines from the Harry Potter series belong to JK Rowling
Many thanks to my beta MelodyLepetit who also helped me name this story
A/N Sorry this isn't a chapter of Same As It Ever Was, but one is on the way!
Neville ducked into the alcove behind the third suit of armour along the corridor, pulled back the tapestry of Elgar the Ebullient (which surely must have been an ironic name for the dour faced wizard) and slipped into the narrow space behind. This really would be a lot easier if they had Harry's invisibility cloak, he mused as he tried not to pant too loudly. He felt, rather than saw, the curtain move in the darkness and his heart pounded as someone slipped in next to him.
"Merlin Ginny, I thought you were the Carrows," he breathed, relying on only the geranium scent that he knew to be Ginny to identify his companion, "couldn't you find your own hiding place?"
"Lumos minima," Ginny whispered. A tiny light appeared at the end of her wand. It was only a spark, not enough to show on the other side of the painting but it was enough. Enough for Neville to see how Ginny's eyes blazed triumphantly. Enough for him to see her chest rising and falling rapidly after her exertions.
"That was a close one," she whispered, the corners of her mouth turning up wickedly. She was close enough that Neville could feel the heat from her body through her robes at the points their bodies met.
Outside, in the corridor they could hear distant footsteps and muffled voices "...reckon I saw the Weasley girl go that way...you go down there…."
Neville caught Ginny's eye and a giggle bubbled up inside of him, hiccupping out between his lips. Instantly, Ginny clapped her hand over his mouth. The action forced her body against his and despite the layers of heavy robes between them, he could feel the lines of her body, toned from quidditch, the soft swell of her breasts pressed to him, accentuated by her heavy breathing. He felt his body start to respond and it was all he could do to stop himself from stiffening against her thigh. Still, at least it made the giggles go away.
"Reckon they'll 'ave to go back to their common room soon enough, let's go and wait there for 'em. Little idiots won't know what's 'it 'em," Alecto's rough nasal tones reached them through the tapestry and after a moment, the footsteps drifted away.
Ginny removed her hand gingerly, her eyes trained on Neville's lips to make sure he wasn't going to laugh again.
"Sorry," he murmured, "nerves".
Ginny nodded cautiously in response. He made to pull back the curtain and step out into the corridor, eager to get out of that tight, geranium scented space before he did something stupid, but Ginny's slender fingers were on his wrist.
"Wait a bit," she whispered cautiously, "just in case," she rested her head on his arm, making him suddenly aware for the first time how tall he had grown in the last few years. Time ticked by and Neville's mind wandered to all the places he'd rather be with the girl by his side than in this dusty alcove. He imagined taking her to a fancy restaurant, getting to wear the dress robes again that had made her eyebrows raise in surprise before the Yule Ball. Her sitting in a cosy armchair reading, while he pottered about with seedlings and earth. However, the slide show in his head soon travelled on to more alluring scenarios – the pair of them in the bath together, him washing her long red hair as she sighed against him. Her in his bed. He cleared his throat awkwardly, almost fearful that she could read his mind somehow.
"Reckon they're going to be pretty pissed off with us about this," Neville held up the small bag that jangled metallically, "all of their chains and torture devices dismantled. If we give them the run around for a few days they might not even remember to mend them."
"Hmmm," Ginny looked sceptical and Neville got the feeling, as he occasionally did with Ginny, that she just went along with some of the more optimistic thoughts he had, just to keep his spirits up. "Well we can't go back to the common room, what now?"
Neville grinned, "Same place I always go to hide out. Room of Requirement."
oOoOoOo
They crept down the corridor; thankful for the muggle rubber soled shoes that Seamus Finnegan had got his father to send in to them to aid their night time excursions. The Carrows were ridiculously easy to evade, due to their heavy tread and inability to talk at any volume below their usual commanding bellowsw. Neville had once seen Snape rolling his eyes at their incompetence, although he had quickly schooled his face to bored neutrality when he had spied the young Gryffindor smirking. If it wasn't for the fact that Snape was so evil, Neville would have almost felt sorry for him, being stuck with such crude instruments to enforce his will. Neville had learned the hard way how ungraciously Snape suffered fools.
As they went up the stairs Neville avoided the trick step that had caught him so many times when he was younger. It was Ginny who had shown him how to notice it, when they had been walking back to their common room after the Yule Ball. He had been so busy laughing at her impression of Ron that he would have stood on it if it wasn't for her grabbing his arm and yanking him back.
"Look," she motioned to the wall, "the step moves around the castle but it always has this painting of a Hippogriff in flight next to it,"
"Thanks," Neville had smiled widely at her, wondering why no one who had pulled him out of the step had ever bothered to explain that to him before.
They made it to the Room without coming across anyone - the castle was even quieter at night now as only the Slytherin Prefects and a few of the teachers would carry out night patrols any more. Those who refused seemed to be of the opinion that the more mischief that took place after dark, the better, although McGonagall had begged Neville not to pull any more stunts after finding him bleeding heavily from his head one morning in the Gryffindor Common room. Snape was the only one who posed them any serious danger due to his eerie ability to glide down the corridor looking like an overgrown bat but he seemed to remain in the Headmaster's office now. Probably enjoying the powerful feeling of sitting on the other side of the desk for a change. Either that or he was scared that another teacher would stage a coup if he left the room.
"You do it Neville, you're better at it," Ginny urged, looking back over her shoulder for anyone following them. Neville nodded, biting down a proud smile at Ginny's compliment.
He walked past the room the first time concentrating hard. 'Be the place where I come to sleep. Be a room where that the Carrows and their supporters can't find us,' he thought, trying to construct a picture of what he wanted in his mind.
"Neville," hissed Ginny, "it's Mrs Norris!" He looked up to see the dusty coloured cat prowling down the corridor.
Neville broke into a jog for his second pass of the door, 'Be what I want,' he told the room, hurriedly.
Mrs Norris let out an ear splitting yowl and ran off, presumably to fetch her master. They had no qualms about using the more harmless jinxes on the sadistic caretaker, especially now he had sided so easily with the Carrows, but Neville had no wish to draw attention to their location for fear that their hiding place be discovered.
'Be what I need,' his brow furrowed, the images of the room he often hid out in blurring in his mind as his pace increased to a sprint for the final trip past the door.
Flat footed steps echoed down the corridor. Filch was on his way. Neville bounced on his toes as he waited for the door handle to materialise. As soon as the door had turned into solid matter, he wrenched it open and he and Ginny threw themselves inside.
oOoOoOo
The room wasn't like it normally was when he arrived. It was usually a little smaller than the Gryffindor dormitory, with dark wood paneled walls, a single hammock suspended from the ceiling and a sandy floor that was always a little damp, despite the warmth of the room. It usually contained what he needed and no more – a safe place to sleep, some clean pajamas and on the occasions that he had been hurt, a healing potion.
Today though the room was much larger, almost as big as when they had held the D.A meetings there. Torches glowed sleepily in their sconces on the wood paneled walls, illuminating scarlet and gold wall hangings. Though a door to the side, Neville could see a bathroom to rival the prefects' one. There were books and a cosy armchair, covered in a patchwork quilt. There was even a table set with two sets of goblets and plates, although obviously no food unless Neville went down to the Hog's Head to fetch some. However, he didn't notice any of that, not really. His eyes were drawn in horror to the enormous four poster bed in the centre of the room.
He realised, mortified, that the Room had plucked his silly fantasies right out of his head and recreated them for him.
"Blimey Neville," Ginny giggled, slipping her arm through his.
"I don't know what...I was rushing, I couldn't concentrate properly," he stared stiffly ahead, unable to look at the witch next to him.
"And there was me worrying about you all those nights you haven't come back to the common room. Turns out you've just been living in luxury here. Is it always like this?"
The thought of Ginny worrying about him sent a sick thrill of pleasure coursing through his body, "Ermm, pretty much. Perhaps it's a bit…bigger…today," he explained awkwardly, "I didn't think to ask for more beds. Sorry. I can sleep in the armchair or we could go outside and I could try again. I'm sure Filch isn't lurking about any more.
"Don't be silly," Ginny smiled as she drifted off to look at the books, "we're both adults, more or less. There's nothing wrong with us sharing a bed,"
Neville wondered if he had imagined the twinkle in her eye. He looked at the foot of the bed for his pajamas but none were there. Of course not, he realised, his dismay warring with a shameful hope that he didn't even dare to acknowledge.
Ginny didn't seem perturbed, "Look the other way," she instructed. He turned his back, trying not to listen to the rustle of her removing her robes or imagine her creamy skin being revealed. He heard the creak of bedsprings and she told him it was okay to look. When he turned back, she was sitting up in bed, the covers tucked up under her armpits so he could see nothing more than her shoulders and the bright teal straps of her bra.
"Your turn," she nodded and covered her eyes with her hands. Neville pulled his robes over his head and awkwardly took off his trousers and socks, trying not to overbalance. When he was dressed just in his vest and underpants, he slipped into bed next to her.
The lamps dimmed obligingly. Neville was almost expecting romantic music to start playing, just to complete this nightmare. Ginny's leg grazed against his, sending sparks up through his body.
"Sorry," she grinned, looking far from it, "You should know, I hog the covers too,"
"That's ok," Neville blushed, cursing himself for his inability to think of something more interesting to say. Not that Ginny seemed to mind - she was looking round the room again curiously.
"This really was a good idea of yours to hide out here," she said admiringly, "and the old members of the Inquisitorial Squad can't find it?"
Neville's blush increased, "No, it's simple really, I just have to make sure that I ask the room that anyone who supports the Carrows can't get in."
"Cool. We could all use it, couldn't we? If we want to escape for a bit? You know that even though we've broken all their toys, they'll find new ways to torture us. It's getting worse all the time, isn't it?"
So he had been right, Ginny had just been humouring him. Not that it mattered – he hadn't really believed it himself either. He bit back irrational irritation at the thought of his sanctuary being disturbed, whilst also chastising himself that he had failed to think of inviting the others. Maybe if he had come up with the idea before Christmas, Luna could have stayed there instead of waltzing straight into the arms of the Death Eaters.
"It's not the same since Luna went, is it?" Neville asked, fiddling with a tassel on the coverlet.
Ginny smiled sadly, "No. She just made it all seem like a game didn't she. I still believe she's alive - we'd have heard if...you know."
"I just want her to be safe. She's too fragile, like she could get broken so easily. I just miss her so much,"
"She might seem like she's made of candy floss and moonshine but Luna's tough really. She's probably teaching the Ddeath Eeaters the benefits of gnome saliva as we speak. But is there something I should know about, Nev? Are you carrying a torch for our Miss Lovegood?" Ginny elbowed him good humouredly.
"What? Oh Godric no!" Neville blushed, "it's just, she gets me. She understands what it's like to be lonely,"
"You think I don't know?" Ginny asked hollowly, "When I was so lonely I ended up making friends with Tom Riddle?"
Neville scratched the back of his neck, feeling awkward. He knew why he hadn't spoken to Ginny about it and it was nothing to do with thinking that she wouldn't be able to understand and everything to do with the fact that when he had spoken to Luna about the fact that even here at Hogwarts amongst his friends, he felt so alone, she had told him in her dreamy sing song tones that unrequited love is the loneliest place of all. When he had gone red and spluttered out a protest, she had just smiled that serene smile of hers and nodded over at Ginny.
"Sorry, I didn't think, it's just you're always with Hermione, or Harry..."
"Oh, because I was Harry's girlfriend for all of a couple of months I'll keep warm off the memories for the rest of my life? Never mind that he dumped me the first chance he had. Not that you'd think so from reading the Prophet - they can barely write an article about Harry or Hogwarts without mentioning Harry Potter's girlfriend, and how tragic I am."
"Everyone knows the Prophet's -" Neville tried to calm her but the red head was not in the mood to listen, tossing back her hair angrily.
"What if we aren't these star crossed lovers everyone thinks? Perhaps we were just a teenage romance and if it wasn't for the war we'd have broken up anyway, or never even got together. What if it's as simple as the fact that he's gone off me?"
"Well that can't be true. You're beautiful, and kind, and clever. What I mean is, he'd have to be an idiot to...well, I'm sure he hasn't," Neville twisted his hands together, unable to meet Ginny's eye.
"Well sometimes I think he is an idiot. Sometimes I hate Harry Potter," her face was red, her hands balled up into fists.
The shocking force of the simple statement hit Neville like a punch in the gut. In the darkest depths of his jealous moments, he'd never felt anything like that. He'd never begrudged Harry the tiny crumbs of happiness that fate had dealt him, "But you love him Gin,"
"That's why I hate him!" Ginny began to sob. Neville had seen her tearful so rarely. She had even remained stoically dry eyed after the hours of torture inflicted upon them when they had tried to steal the sword of Gryffindor from Snape.
He patted her gently on the shoulder, wishing he could just wrap her up in his arms but didn't know how she would react. However he was saved the indecision when she leaned forward and pressed her face against his chest, making it a natural reaction to curl his arm up and round her hunched shoulder. He could feel her tears soaking into his vest. The dim lamp light played over her hair, highlighting filaments of russet and bronze. And then he couldn't help himself from leaning just a little closer to inhale the sweet floral scent of her hair. He had heard Harry describe it as 'flowery smelling,' but it to him it was so much more than that – geraniums and freesia and even a hint of lemon verbena – although whether that was due to his better knowledge of plants, a keener nose, or simply a more romantic nature, he never could be sure. It always took him back to where this had really started for him.
The Carrows had been trying a fire curse of their own invention on Neville in punishment for catching him writing 'Harry Potter and Dumbledore will live forever' on the wall of the broom shed. Ginny had found him afterwards, writhing in pain, his face contorted, muscles standing out like cords on his red and blistered skin. They had put a Silencio on him, which in a way, he had been thankful for. It had stopped him begging for death. Ginny had stunned him instantly and when he had awoken she had been smoothing a salve over his wounds that cooled them instantly. She had stolen it from the hospital wing, she told him in gentle tones – one of the many things she had murmured soothingly in his ear that night. She told him later that she had to keep calm, had to keep talking to him otherwise she knew she would have gone straight to the Carrows and Avada'ed the pair of them. But as her hair had brushed across his face that night - just as his vision had started to come back from the black and white stars that it had faded into and the watery morning light began to filter through the leaded window, casting long shadows where her eyelashes touched her cheek, and he could smell her hair instead of the bitter stink of his own flesh charring – that was when he had fallen. Harder and more devastatingly than the crashing of every single prophecsy in the department of mysteries. Their eyes had met and she looked like the girl he had danced and laughed with for hours with at the Yule Ball and yet so much older than he had noticed before, all at the same time, and he knew that his heart belonged to her.
"I'm sure you'll get back together when all this is over," he comforted Ginny at his own expense, the words flaying him.
"Who knows what he will be like at the end of this? I don't even know if he's alive or dead," she whispered, her hand clawlike with horror on his shoulder, her nails digging crescents into his skin.
He thought she was going to cry again but she seemed to steel herself, to push the raw pain back down to where she normally kept it hidden. Her eyes – shining with tears yet to fall - flickered to his mouth, then back up to meet his own, beseeching. He didn't move, didn't dare even to blink but she edged forwards hesitantly.
"Make it feel better," she breathed against his lips. For a moment Neville felt like he had dived headfirst into a bottomless pool and was sinking further away from reality at a head spinning rate. With a sharp intake of breath, he closed the millimeters between them.
Their lips met tenderly, sending the flames of desire rushing through Neville's arid heart. He pulled her tightly to him, wanting to swim endlessly in the heady combination of her sweet scent and the feel of her warm body against his. Her mouth opened tentatively and he mirrored her action, trying to stifle a moan as she slipped her tongue into his mouth, just for a second. He could feel her heart hammering against his own. He wove his hand into her hair and deepened the kiss, pouring all of his love and desire into it. They could have been kissing for hours, or seconds, or all eternity, Neville had no idea. The only thing he cared about was that they never stop.
Suddenly a heavy scraping alerted them to the door being opened. Light shone in, indicating that it must by now be early morning. A breeze of fresh air flew through the room, stirring up the sparkling dust motes in the golden sunlight. Neville could feel the magic on the air – 'The winds of change', his grandma had called them. Something was going to happen. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. The fresh current invaded the magical bubble that they had made around themselves where there was no sadness, or thinking, or consequences, and whisked it away.
Neville and Ginny shot back from each other as though yanked by an invisible string. Seamus ran into the room but stopped dead as he took in their flushed faces, their being in bed together. Almost imperceptibly he shook his head as though trying to dislodge a cloud of nargles, and Neville felt Ginny stiffen next to him. After what she had said earlier, he realised why. She knew that Seamus was thinking that he must be wrong in what he was imagining. Harry Potter's girlfriend wouldn't do something like that. Wouldn't kiss another man while she was waiting for the hero to return. Harry Potter's girlfriend. Harry Potter's girlfriend. Despite Ginny's outburst against being called that, the words ran through Neville's head over and over as shame washed over him. Deep down he knew that he would never again feel the softness of Ginny's lips against his own. Because what was he next to the chosen one? Next to the Boy who Lived, who even now he hoped beyond hope would be returning soon.
"What is it?" Ginny asked, letting only a drop of irritation seep into her words.
The words ran out of Seamus's mouth in a tumble, "I've just been listening to Potterwatch. Seems that Dean was on the run with a couple of wizards and goblins. They've been captured and killed and he's missing," he choked on the final word and seemed unable to say any more.
Neville realised that without the constant of Dean by his side, Seamus looked smaller somehow. Diminished. He knew that he had begged his friend to stay with him in Ireland instead of going on the run, promised him he could make it safe for him, but Dean hadn't listened. And now he was thinking it was all his fault, that he should have found a better way to ask him so that he couldnt refuse. But there was something else, Neville realised. He looked Seamus in the eye and knew that his deepest sadness was mirrored there – a secret pain that he dare not speak to anyone. More than simple concern for his friend. It made Neville want to hug him. Unrequited love - the loneliest place of all.
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