Chapter 4: In Like a Lion

Ginny shifted her calves along where they lay sprawled in Neville's lap, flexing first her toes, then her heels to provide better comfort to the arches of her feet. The sudden and cacophonous clap of thunder startled her sufficiently enough that she jerked through the last of the motion, nearly kicking her human couch cushion in his funny bone. A torrential Ides of March, proving once again the month's intent to come in like a Gryffindor lion, had driven most everyone indoors; the deluge was lashing enough to have forced the closure of all exterior courses, from Care of Magical Creatures to Herbology in the greenhouses, going into the weekend.

Ginny lifted her eyes out and over the rim of her Charms text to peer at her best mate as he used her thighs as a writing desk, composing his Transfiguration essay with endearingly adorable concentration. Gaze honing into read Neville's scrawl at a slant, Ginny murmured:

"G, love." Neville glanced up, a perplexed expression on his face. "Prestidigitation is spelled with a G, not a J."

Neville checked his prose, and with a sheepish smile at his best mate, made the correction.

Ginny's lips curled upward warmly. She'd missed this: the easy, companionable and very much platonic rapport they had developed over all of last term and the better part of this one. For a time heading into the New Year, she had feared she and Neville would never recover it, following their disastrous kiss at the Yule Ball. She was always careful to apply the descriptor to the kiss, and not their date generally - Neville had shown her a good time that night. He had just buggered up the end of it, is all, which is better than what her brother could claim: he'd wrecked his whole damn night, pissed off his date, and his own best mate as well. After spending her entire first year not making any friends, Ginny could ill afford to drive away one of the few friends she had been able to make over crossed signals from a misconstrued kiss.

Now that the air was clear between her and Neville, though, Ginny was starting to feel hopeful that they might one day be able to look back and laugh at the whole fiasco. She might even arrive at a place where she would be glad he had kissed her, if only because that it proved what she and Neville had already known: they were better as friends. Loved each other like siblings. While Ginny already had too many brothers, she supposed it was nice to have at least one who didn't try to baby you (Ron), take the mickey out on you (Fred and George), or lecture you (Percy).

In truth, she relished moments like this, with Neville. They could be close without being intimate, or at least have any expectation of intimacy that crossed into the realm of the sexual. Ginny was beginning to appreciate the benefit of having a male friend who wasn't her brother and who was perfectly fine with her placing her feet in his lap, and from whom she was perfectly fine receiving a massage to said feet.

…. The musing made her wonder about the massage Luna said she gave Ron following the Second Task last week. She wondered if her brother would take any sexual meaning from… Oh, who was she kidding? It was Ron. With how long it had taken him to notice his best girl mate was a woman, it had probably never occurred to him that someone placing their hands on you, even innocently, might imply a desire to place them on you…. less innocently.

Ginny glanced down the length of her body, to where her toes were grazing Neville's forearm where he had braced it on the couch armrest as he wrote and she winced: she was one to talk, considering she was practically playing footsie with her best mate's femur - platonically, mind you, but to others, she was aware how it would look. Especially after the Ball. Maybe she and Neville should take out an ad, letting everyone know they were definitely NOT together…. No, that would just make it worse.

She was lifted out of her pubescent thoughts by the portrait hole swinging open. Ginny sharply began to retract her feet, her overthinking making her self-conscious and second-guess, only for her to exhale a relieved breath when she saw it was only…

"Hi, Lu."

Neville glanced up out of his Transfiguration essay with a frown. "Luna? How did you get in here?"

"It's all right, Nev; she has the password."

"You gave her the password?"

Ginny arched an eyebrow. "As opposed to what? Leave it lying around?" At her best mate's cowed look, she blanched too late. Sometimes, it took her hearing what she thought of as her own rapier wit to realize how bitingly it could cut.

"…. Touché."

"Neville, love, I'm sorry - that was out of line…."

"No, no. I reckon I deserved that, really…."

"From a mistake you made over a year ago? No, you didn't," Ginny insisted, her gaze contrite. Turning back to where their other best mate stood over them, Ginny tensed at the ashen and anguished expression on Luna's face - a countenance that didn't suit her at all.

"Luna, darling, what's wrong?"

It was a disconcerting thing indeed, to see a Luna whose lip could pout. A Luna who could, in fact, cry, or feel any other emotion other than contentment. But this she now displayed as, with a cry, she flung a tan lump - about the shape and twice the size of the hood of a jumper - into Ginny's lap.

"I can't do it! I can't give this…" Her voice choked off between a yelp and a sob.

Neville stared. "What in Godric's name is that?" He received a kick to his femur bone for the question.

Ginny cringed, as she picked up the hooded… thing and examined it. "Well, it's… it's…." She cleared her throat, gazing up at Luna, helplessly at a loss. "Love, what is it?"

Luna sniffled. "It's supposed to be a full lion's mane. My mother taught me how to sew." A beat. "Back when I had a mother." She bit her lip. "It's not quite finished yet."

"Clearly," Neville inspected the piece. His gaze ping-ponged between the girls. "Any explanation at all?"

As she pieced it together, Ginny's wince deepened. "I told Luna that my brother's birthday is coming up."

Neville's expression didn't change. "Why would anyone other than you, Hermione and Harry give Ron something for his birthday?"

"Because Luna fancies him." Belatedly, Ginny glanced about, though no one appeared to be eavesdropping.

"What?!" Neville yelled, squirming disquietedly enough so that he nudged Ginny's legs off of his lap. "Oh, Lu, you can do a lot bett…" His teeth clenched through the pain of Ginny's heel digging into his shin. "…. worse… than Ron."

Ginny chewed on her bottom lip, mind whirling. "I have a better idea: we're playing you lot in Quidditch next Saturday week, yes? Your big commentating debut?" Luna had received word she'd won the job at breakfast the previous morning.

Luna nodded. "That's right."

"How come they scheduled a match so far after the Second Task?" Neville wondered aloud.

Ginny sighed. "Probably to give Harry a break, the poor love." She didn't notice Neville's smirk. The redhead studied the half-completed lion's mane in her fist: there was no way obtuse Ron would appreciate this as the birthday gift it was intended to be, much less read deeper meaning, especially from a bare acquaintance. "Ron's birthday is that same day. Luna, you can wear this to the match while you're commentating…"

"She can't root for us while we're playing against her House team!" Neville balked. "Besides, aren't commentators supposed to be impartial?"

Ginny ignored him. Luna, meanwhile, brightened.

"Then afterwards I can give it to him for his birthday!"

Ginny smiled tightly. "Let's… try to get through the game first."

"Bother and shame about Lee Jordan giving up commentary," Ron grumbled sadly as he, Hermione, Ginny and Neville hiked up into the Quidditch stands the following Saturday week - this one brilliant and clear. "Any idea who got tapped to replace him?"

Ginny pursed her lips in what she hoped was a convincing enough to display of innocence, feigned as it was. "I'm sure I don't know."

The group took their seats, Ron still looking put out. "Quidditch won't be Quidditch without Lee calling the plays… why'd he quit anyhow?"

"Apparently, he decided to buckle down in studying for his NEWTS next term," Hermione reported, her admiring tone clearly thinking this a sensible course of action.

Ron hooted. "Lee? Study? He'll skate by just like my brothers and then they'll go open that joke shop like they've always wanted to do. NEWTS are hardly the thing to give up Quidditch for." He either didn't see or chose to ignore Hermione's chiding and judgmental look of disapproval.

Madame Hootch blew her whistle down below, signaling the teams that it was time to make their entrances. Ginny and Neville looked at each other.

"Come on, old girl…." Unconsciously, Ginny's hand found Neville's and squeezed it; when she glanced up and saw how Ron had caught the exchange, she sneered at him.

The Gryffindor and Ravenclaw squads sped onto the pitch.

"…. And here come our teams for today: Gryffindor with Harry Potter - my very best mate and I have always thought him a very handsome fellow - leading the way as Seeker…."

Ginny turned whiter than Nearly Headless Nick. "Luna…" she breathed while next to her, Neville roared with laughter.

Ron just appeared bewildered, standing up all the way out of his seat to scan into the teachers' viewing box. "Hang about: who's calling the game….?"

Hermione deployed Harry's Sneakoscope to get a better look; when she did, she seemed uncertain whether to be horrified or outraged. "It's that Lovegood bird from Ravenclaw…." Her voice sounded haughty with disdain. The pretty brunette witch returned the lens to her eye. "Merlin save us…. What is she wearing?"

Ron snatched the Sneakoscope out of Hermione's hand. After a moment, he let out a bark of shocked laughter. "Coo! What on Earth….? Is that a lion's mane?"

Hermione scoffed. "Can't even be impartial… she's supposed to be the commentator…"

Ginny stared down her brother's crush. "A Ravenclaw wearing the colors of the lion while watching her House play them sounds pretty impartial to me," she observed coolly. Hermione backed down.

The match - and Luna's commentary - continued. At one point, her observations on Ravenclaw Seeker Roger Davies' skills bird-walked into an amusing anecdote of how she caught him nearly devoid of trousers and coattails following the Yule Ball. Watching with the Beauxbatons delegation, Fleur Delacour appeared particularly embarrassed and incensed. Ron, meanwhile, belly-laughed at damn near everything Luna said. It was at about the time of the Davies story that Ginny realized her brother wasn't laughingather best mate - he was laughingwithher.

After the game, everyone went down to the pitch to congratulate Harry and Luna. Ginny swept her best mate into a hug.

"Lu, darling, you were grand….!"

"Say!" Ron jostled over to them, his blue eyes earnest. "Great commentary this match!"

Luna blinked dumbly, seemingly stunned that he was actually making fun of me. "You're just making fun of me, aren't you?" she stated. "Everyone else says I was dreadful." (To which Ginny and Neville began to scan the dispersing fans, itching to beat someone up in defense of their friend).

"No, I'm serious!" Ron insisted. "I can't remember enjoying Quidditch commentary more! What is that, by the way?" And his fingers brushed the edge of the lion's mane.

It was almost cute how hastily Luna took it off and held it out to him. "A mascot for Gryffindor. I…." Ginny waited for her to say, I made it for you, but Luna just glanced down at her feet and Ginny hoped she was the only one who saw her blush. "I heard it's your birthday today, so…."

"Oh, you keep it!" Ron insisted, though he actually appeared surprised and touched. "It suits you."

Luna's head snapped up in elated surprise. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." At Ron's nod, Luna flushed and abruptly turned and scampered away in a manner that reminded Ginny painfully of when she was 11 and couldn't even stand to be in the same room as Harry. Watching her go, Ron turned back to the others with a bemused chuckle. He shook his head in a kind of wonderment.

Ginny just smiled, hopeful.