Unofficial Portkey Archive

TITLE: All Roads Lead Back

KEYWORDS: Hermione, Harry, Ron, Ginny, Draco and the rest of the gang. Primarily H/Hr, but a slew of various ships as well. Post-HBP.

SYNOPSIS: Harry Potter always figured that once his destiny was fulfilled he could finally have a happy, normal life. Unfortunately for him, he fell in love with his best friend...and everything went straight to Hell! A very gradual, slow moving H/Hr love story told through multiple canon character perspective as well as several flashbacks. Set 7 years after the final battle.

SPOILERS: All six books.

WORD COUNT: 10,739

RATING: NC17 for language and later sexual content.

BETA: Padfoot & murphsmine

WARNING: None although it's tinged with some G/N. You have been warned.

DISCLAIMER: If it looks like it's JKR's, well, that's because it is. She's provided me with the canvas and I'm truly enjoying painting on it.

Saturday, 05/28/05

*ding*ding*

Neville looked up from the box of snapping snapdragons he had been about to open, and glanced towards the door of the stockroom. He thought he heard the doorbell chime of the shop door, but he was almost positive that he locked up when he turned the "CLOSED" sign around that evening. When no more sound reached his ear, he continued with the box.

*crack*

Neville's head bobbed up again. Now he knew for sure that he heard something or someone in the shop. The sound of glass breaking confirmed it for him. He was pretty certain that Orestes, Holden, and Emmaleth, his shop clerks, weren't back. Though each of them had keys to the store, he had sent them all off to have a pint at the Three Broomsticks on him after close. The three young adults, barely of age, certainly couldn't have finished yet, he believed. He knew for a fact that young Em drank like a fish, so it seemed highly unlikely that she would have just had a quick butterbeer, especially if it was on his tab. That left only one other option, someone had broken into his store.

Neville slowly eased up from his heels, straightened his work robes, and withdrew his cherry wood wand from the back pocket of his slacks underneath them. With his muscles taut and his nerves on fire, he stealthily pushed forward one of the swinging doors of the stockroom and peeked through the opening. What he saw was the outline of what appeared to be a smallish woman crawling on the floor on her hands and knees. She was trying to collect the broken shards of a glass vase that had fallen off the counter of the register. She was using her bare hands. It was seven in the evening and there were no lanterns lit, so Neville couldn't exactly see who the woman was. He pointed his wand unflinchingly at the intruder before him as he silently came further into the room.

"If you have business here," he said in a cold, threatening manner, "I'd quickly say what it is and be done with it."

At his words the woman's head popped up in shock.

"Nev?"

"Gin?"

Neville quickly ushered over to his friend's side and helped her up. After straightening her robes and brushing off any dust she might have gotten from the floor, he turned to look his friend in the face.

"Lumos," he said as he and Ginny were suddenly bathed in a soft yellow glow.

"Ginny, what are you doing here? And how did you get in?" he asked in a wondering tone.

Neville knew that he had all the exit doors in the shop warded in case someone tried to break in and steal from the shop. He had done the spellcasting himself.

Ginny grinned devilishly at him.

"Well I didn't want to rob you, did I?"

Neville felt like a perfect idiot. Of course! If anyone's intention was to cause harm they would automatically be shocked by a warning bolt of electricity as soon as their hands touched the door knob. Or if they tried to "Alohomora" their way in, their wand would smoke and become non-functional for a few hours. But for whatever reason Ginny was at his place at this late hour, grand larceny obviously wasn't it.

"Sorry," she said. "It's just that I went looking for you down at the inn and didn't see you there. I ran into Emmaleth and she said that you were doing inventory."

She smirked.

"Actually she said that you were inventing stories, but the poor girl was so bladdered that I had to figure the whole thing out for myself."

Neville laughed at that.

"Well Em has a way with words when she's in her cups."

"Sometimes I think the only reason you keep that lush around is because she's so pretty."

"Gin!" Neville exclaimed in a false scandalized voice. "Emmaleth Loudermilk is a child."

"Emmaleth Loudermilk is an 18 year old girl who barely made it out of Hogwarts and wouldn't hesitate at the chance to marry the boss," she clucked. "Don't forget I knew her way back when. She was a Second Year my last year at school. And she was just as simple then as she is now. She was always hanging about the Head's office telling me how much she wanted to grow up to be just like me."

Neville began to feel slightly uncomfortable at the direction of the conversation and tried his best to change it.

"Yes...um...w-well..." he stammered as he pointed his wand at the glass on the floor and hovered it into a dustbin by the counter. "She's a natural with the more mundane non-magical plants, and she's tons useful around the place."

As of late Emmaleth had been hinting to Neville that she wouldn't mind staying after hours to help him re-pot his plant. Neville, however, wasn't so unworldly that he didn't know exactly what the former Hufflepuff had in mind for him. He wasn't going to tell Ginny that, though.

"Of course she is," Ginny tartly agreed with him.

She then raised her hands before her face and frowned.

"Damn! I cut myself."

"Here, let me see," he said gently taking one of her pale, smooth hands in his own and examining it. There was a small gash on the palm that would bleed heavily if the skin around it was disturbed. Her other hand had only minor little nicks and scratches.

The soft feel of her skin wasn't lost on him.

"Gin, you could have shredded yourself," he admonished kindly.

He tenderly placed the tip of his wand on the palm of her hand and whispered, "Integrosectum".

He then took her other hand and did the same to it. The palms of her hands were perfectly healed.

"There, all better," he said, looking into her navy eyes. He still was holding her hand.

"Y-yes," she sighed, eyes locked on his hazel ones, "all better."

She made no move to remove her hands from his at first, but then all at once, as if coming from under a spell, she slowly pulled them away.

"But then again you always had a way of making things better, didn't you?"

Neville chuckled as if she had made a grand joke. "Who me, the klutz of Hogwarts?"

Ginny's eyes turned stormy as she placed her hands on her hips threateningly.

"Neville Longbottom, I will not have you talking about yourself that way!" she reprimanded.

Neville felt properly chastened.

"Sorry, Gin. I was only joking."

"Well it's not funny! You are not that same bumbling little boy from years ago. You've grown up. I wish you would realize that."

"I do, Gin. I do," Neville said trying to placate her.

Neville's see-sawing sense of self-worth was always a sore subject between them.

"Look, I have a coffee pot full to the brim back in my office. Care for a cuppa?"

The frown lines of Ginny's face smoothed as it brightened into a smile.

"Australian Mountain Top Peaberry?" she asked hopefully.

"Would I drink anything else?" he playfully scoffed.

~~**~~ ~~**~~

"Mmm..." Ginny moaned as she finished the last drops in her mug. This would mark her fourth cup of coffee. "I haven't had this in ages."

"I have tons more at the house. If you'd like, I'll send some of it over with Gran's Whimsy."

They were currently sitting at Neville's small oak wood desk. He was in a large comfortable leather chair that leaned back, while she was seated in one of the hard wooden back chairs that sat in front of the desk. He liked to joke that he kept those chairs in his office to encourage his assistants to be out on the floor working instead of in the back wheedling a day off out of him.

When they first sat down he offered Ginny his seat, but she declined teasing that she liked to see him sitting behind his desk looking the part of the stern employer. They both laughed at the absurdity of that.

"No, that's alright. Harry doesn't care for it. He says that coffee isn't coffee if it isn't black with two spoonfuls of sugar," she told him. "I swear he acted like the waiters were trying to poison him in Sydney."

"Well I suspect the taste takes a bit to get used to," he said looking over the top of his mug at her.

"You did."

"Well I suppose it came so highly recommended from you that I had to at least give it a try."

That made Ginny smile.

"So are you eventually going to tell me why you were breaking and entering on my property?" Neville joshed; no hint of reproach in his voice.

Ginny rolled her eyes.

"I was not breaking and entering."

"Uh huh."

"I didn't expect you to close up this early, is all."

Neville set his empty cup on the desk and leaned casually back in his seat.

"I've been closing this early for the last week or so. All the plants and what not for the new store are being shipped here so I've been sorting out all the boxes and containers after close," he replied. "Smart move I would say since vandals seem to be drawn to me."

"Ha, ha," she said, only slightly irritably. "And by the way, I hear that congratulations are in order. I ran into Dean, Seamus and Pad the other day. They told me about the move to London."

Neville smiled shyly.

"I just figured it was time to expand really. There's no point in letting all of Gran's money waste away in Gringotts, right?"

Although Neville's smile was cheerful, he quickly wiped at a tear that was forming in his right eye. Neville's beloved and greatly intimidating grandmother had been dead all these years since the Light side won the War. Neville always got choked up when he thought of his brave Gran who vehemently opposed Voldemort and all who sided with him. She died one month before the Second War came to an end.

"Augusta Longbottom would be very proud of you," Ginny sincerely replied as she reached across his desk and took his right hand in hers comfortingly.

"Would she?" he wryly asked. "In her eyes I could never compare to my dad, the great strong Auror. Quite frankly sometimes I think she was ashamed that I was even a member of the family."

"I will not hear another word of this kind of talk, Neville Francis Longbottom!" Ginny exhorted loudly, jumping up from her chair. "If your grandmother was hard on you it was probably because she saw all the potential in you and wanted it to shine!" she said passionately. "Now look at you; you're a big business entrepreneur with your own shop in Hogsmeade and about to open another one in London. Of course she would be proud of you! Look at you? How could she not be?"

Neville softly squeezed her hand to show that he believed her. Ginny quickly took her seat again, embarrassed by her impassioned speech.

"I was surprised that that was the first I was hearing about it," said Ginny. "The store, that is."

Neville couldn't be sure, but he sensed some chastisement in her voice.

"Well Mrs. Potter, I've been busy."

She scowled prettily at him.

"But I am sorry. I should have made time to tell you about it."

Neville owned a store in Hogsmeade called DeVine&Thorny. It was a plant and flower shop that mostly catered to the citizens of Hogsmeade and the school children who attended Hogwarts nearby. The shop had been opened for almost three years and business had been so profitable that Neville was moving to a bigger store in London in the fall. He already had the building purchased and was splitting his time between managing the current location and checking on the progress at the new site.

"You know, I wouldn't even have this store if it wasn't for you," he said sweetly.

Ginny blushed.

"All I did was name the place. I didn't do anything special."

"Yes, but as you said back then if I had a place with a name that people would remember I would have no worries." He smiled. "You were right."

"Yes, well..."

"And you were one of the few people who encouraged me to open this place. If not for you I would probably be stuck at Hogwarts waiting patiently for Professor Sprout to retire."

Ginny's cheeks were aflame.

"Yes, well..."

"So how goes wedding preparations?" Neville asked, changing the topic that was so obviously making Ginny uncomfortable.

"Lavender is driving everyone up the wall. She's so set on this wedding being perfect."

"That's normal for a bride-to-be. I remember back when you were getting married you were very quick to temper with everybody. Why poor Hermione-"

"I was not like that at all, Nev! And if poor," she emphasized the word nastily, "Hermione would have done things like I asked, I wouldn't have had to get on her case so often."

Neville looked at her evenly.

"Well Hermione did do the best that she could," he said simply.

"Of course darling Hermione did." Ginny snorted. "Then again Nev, you always thought that little Hermione was perfect, didn't you?"

"Not perfect, just my friend. Yours too in case you've forgotten."

There was an edge in his tone.

"You always did take her side," she muttered archly.

"Quite honestly Gin, I never knew there was a side to take."

Neville always thought it was interesting how people naturally assumed that he had fancied Hermione all these years. Some probably even thought that he was in love with her. The only evidence they had to support this harebrained theory was that he had once asked her to the Yule Ball back in their Fourth Year. Funny enough, the only reason he did so was because she was nice and Neville thought she would say yes. Of course she didn't, she already was being escorted by Viktor Krum, the Durmstrang champion. However Neville had no doubt that had he been quicker about it she would have said yes to him. That was the kind of person Hermione was. She didn't look down on bumbling oafs, the Neville Longbottoms of the world, even though she was brilliant and talented and amazing. She was also endearingly kind. She seemed to truly judge people by the person they were in their hearts.

It had actually been Hermione's idea for him to go to Aberdeen. After the War Neville had a difficult time of it deciding what to do with his life. His Uncle Jasper tried to convince him to go work at Gringotts, but Neville turned his nose up at that idea. He didn't see his life behind a desk, pushing papers for a bunch of goblins. Besides, the goblins scared the dickens out of him!

Instead, he decided to do something in Herbology. It was always his best subject at Hogwarts and he had even received an Outstanding in it for his OWLs. He had been contemplating taking an apprenticeship under Professor Sprout so that he could learn more from her and become her Greenhouse assistant, when Hermione offered him a different option.

She and Mr. Weasley had been brainstorming on ways to strengthen wizard and Muggle relations. One idea she came up with was sending of age wizards and witches to universities and colleges throughout the UK and even abroad. Her conjecture was that if magical people inter-mingled with Mugglekind more, there would be a decrease in non-magical intolerance and blood bigotry. Wizarding folks would come to see that there was really no great difference between them and their Muggle neighbors except a propensity to carry around a wooden stick.

Since the older generation was more apt to hold steadfast to their old beliefs and prejudices, Hermione believed that bridging the gap between the two societies would be up to the youth. She began recruiting several of her old school mates to go to schools all across Great Britain. Neville was one of them. She got him the proper paperwork to attend King's College in Scotland and study botany. During his vacations he would go to Hogwarts to assist Professor Sprout and further his studies. In this way he became knowledgeable in Muggle and magical flora and learned the best ways to care for both.

Going to uni was the best decision Neville ever made. Not only because of the expertise with plants that he gained, but also because he blossomed in the sea coast city of Aberdeen. The little boy who seemed to have difficulty walking down a hall without tripping over his own feet grew into a confident young man who strode through life with his head held firmly high. Neville always believed that he had Hermione to thank for this.

But he wasn't in love with her. Not in the least. She was a good friend whom he missed dearly, but he never held any romantic inclinations towards her. Besides from early on Neville had believed that she was mad about Ginny's older brother Ron and visa versa. He figured this out back in his Third Year when his two fellow house mates were continuously at each other's throats over their respective pets. Ron and Hermione reminded him of his Great uncle Algie and his wife Enid, constantly bickering yet comfortably married for years. After the big blow out argument after the Yule Ball that next year Neville figured it was a far gone conclusion that the two teens would eventually get together.

Then in Fifth Year all of Neville's carefully made observations were thrown out the window. He noticed a sort of closeness begin to develop between Hermione and Harry, her and Ron's other best friend. It was in the way that they would be constantly touching each other or seem to read the other's thoughts. Sure Harry fancied Cho Chang, the pretty Ravenclaw Seeker a year above them, and Hermione was still possessively jealous of Ron.

Neville, however, just couldn't shake the idea that there was something else...there, something more palpable than simple friendship bubbling just beneath the surface between the two. When Hermione got struck down by that curse in the Department of Mysteries later that year Neville was almost certain of it. The way that Harry nearly broke down when he thought she was dead...Neville never truly forgot how anguished Harry's voice sounded as he tried to wake her up, and the sheer elation in it when Neville told him that Hermione wasn't dead.

However the next school year, which would end up being their last, did confuse Neville. Hermione and Harry barely talked or hung out much with one another. He was too busy falling under Ginny's spell, and she was wrapped up in waiting for Ron and Lavender's relationship to self-destruct. It was enough to give Neville pause. Maybe he was wrong about what he thought he saw. Maybe Hermione and Harry were simply the best of friends and it was Ron she wanted to be with. Ron definitely wanted to be with her and eventually the two of them started dating.

But through the years Neville couldn't help but observe the way that Harry's face would light up when the girl who was only his best friend walked through a door, or the habit he had of fiddling with her curls if she was sitting next to him. Neville started noticing all of this shortly after the end of the War. Neither did Neville miss the piteously longing look on Hermione's face as she watched Harry walk out of a room, especially in those last few weeks right before she took off for parts unknown. Neville believed he recognized the look. It was nearly the same one that greeted him most mornings as he looked into the mirror.

No, he did not love her. Loving Hermione Granger was akin to purposely flying one's self into a five broom pile-up. Neville had too many of his own issues back then to involve himself in that kind of drama. The fact that Ginny would even intimate such a thing was laughable, though. Of all people, she knew better.

Neville fixed Ginny with a thoughtful look.

"All I was saying was that a woman getting married tends to be an excitable creature. Great Aunt Enid got so barmy right before she got married that she hexed all of her attendants' hair off."

"You're joking!"

Neville shook his head.

"You mean just the hair on their heads, right?"

"Nope. All of it."

"Why would she do a thing like that?" Ginny asked, horrified at the very idea.

"Well it would seem that the ladies didn't care for the sulfur colored robes Aunt Enid had picked out for them."

"Damn!"

"You should see the pictures from the ceremony! They're always good for a laugh. Poor mum," Neville tittered fondly.

Along with several crumpled gum wrappers, a picture of a smiling, yet disturbingly hairless Alice Longbottom was one of Neville's most precious kept keepsakes of a mother he barely got the chance to know.

"Never put it past a bride to ensure that she looks better than her bridesmaids," he joked.

"I wouldn't put something like that pass Lavender at all," Ginny glumly said.

"Has she chosen her attendants then?"

"No, she's waiting for the Tea. But she's hinted around that I'm to be the Matron of Honour. I am married to the Best Man after all, aren't I?" she said with an air of pride.

"Of course."

"Then there are her two sisters, Maeve and Kelly."

"I assume that Bill and Fred's wives are in the party."

Ginny nodded her head.

"And Penelope as well," she confirmed.

"Ron is putting Percy in the wedding?" Neville asked, barely hiding his shock.

"Mum made him," Ginny said snickering. Neville laughed along with her. He couldn't help it; the sound of her mirth was infectious.

"By the way, I'm sorry that Lavender didn't use you for the flowers."

"That's quite alright."

"No it isn't, Nev! I mean, you're her old house mate for Merlin's sake! You would think she would show some solidarity. But this woman she has planning the wedding for her is a real doozy. She's this Italian witch who says that everything must be chic. That's exactly how she says it too. Chic. Ridiculous!"

"Gin, seriously, I don't mind. I specialize in foreign magical plants. I know that witches prefer daisies that won't honk at them," he said with a grin.

Ginny let out a frustrated sigh.

"I tried to get her to change her mind but-"

"I DON'T NEED YOUR PITY!" he finally snapped, cutting her off. His eyes burned so intensely for a second that Ginny almost forgot that it was Neville sitting in front of her and not some stranger. Neville never took that tone with her.

"I don't pity you," she told him. "This isn't pity. I've never felt pity for you."

At the sight of her teary eyes, Neville felt his fleeting sense of indignation deflate. He knew she didn't pity him, but every now and then Neville still felt the old insecurities of his childhood strongly.

"I'm sorry, Gin," Neville apologized. "All I can say is that this move has been stressing me lately. I should have never taken it out on you, though."

Ginny looked at him warily. Her feelings had been hurt, but she knew that Neville would never do anything to intentionally upset her.

"I hope I haven't made you so mad that I'm uninvited from the Burrow tomorrow."

"Neville Longbottom, you know that you are one of my family's oldest and dearest friends! The twins would probably storm your door, truss you up on a stick, and carry you out to the house in-between them if you don't show. Besides mum still says that you are far too skinny and wants to fatten you up a bit. She even said that she would be baking your favorite."

The idea of the Weasley twins tying him up while their mother force fed him cake was unbelievably funny to him. Neville had actually lost a few pounds in the last few months running around trying to get things with his new location sorted out, but he was still rather stocky. Sturdy is what they used to call it way back when. He looked like he missed very few meals, but the chunky kid from a few years ago was gone. Thankfully puberty and a growth spurt took care of that a long time ago.

"Well I certainly look forward to Molly's cooking," he said cheerfully. "In fact I think my guest will enjoy herself too, though Molly will probably think her far too skinny as well. However it's an occupational hazard for her."

The smile that had been on Ginny's face faltered for only a moment before returning.

"Guest?"

"Is there a problem if I bring a date?"

"No, no of course not. The more the merrier! Besides Lavender wants as many bodies there as will fit," Ginny answered while tossing her red hair flamboyantly. "So you and Sally-Anne giving it a go again then?" Ginny asked airily.

"Merlin no! I would say that Sally-Anne belongs on the fourth floor of Mungo's except that she can't blame spell damage for making her so nutty. Do you know she actually tried to cook Trevor? Trevor! Almost boiled him up in a stew pot."

Ginny covered the giggle, which was just itching to burst forth, with her hand. It was well known around town that Sally Perks was a bit...obsessive when it came to the men in her life. She had actually tied Allen Parker to her wrists with magical rope when he broke up with her a few years ago. Ginny tried to warn Neville when he first started dating her, but Neville paid her no heed. He tended to ignore any of the advice that she gave him about the women he dated.

"No more Sally-Anne for me, thanks. Besides my date is worth ten of Sally-Anne," Neville said dreamily.

The foolish little grin that formed on his face irked Ginny.

"Well, aren't we just chuffed to bits," she said irritably. "Are you even going to tell me who the witch is? Do I know her?"

"Nope, because she isn't a witch."

Neville had met Candide only a few months ago when he went into London to meet with the Realtor who was helping him look for his new store location. He was using a Muggle realty agency because he intended to buy a place in a Muggle section of town. He had gotten on the DLR after mistakenly riding the Underground for a bit. He was going to inspect a lot in the East End that the agent had found for him. Neville actually liked Muggle transportation, it was easier on his stomach than Apparating, but he still was a novice at it.

He had been sitting down, a Muggle book on fertilizer covering his face, when he heard a lovely cultured voice addressing him.

"Sir, I don't mean to be a bother, but I think your briefcase is croaking."

Neville lowered the book and was incapable of stopping his mouth from sagging open. In front of him was a beauty queen of a girl. Her long black hair snaked down her back in a thick French braid. Her almond shaped eyes were so dark that one would almost think they were jet black. They made one forget all else while looking into them. Her facial features were so fine and exquisite that she looked like a well sculpted porcelain doll. Instead of milky white though, her flawless complexion was a lovely shade of alabaster. The body the face was connected to was nothing to sneeze at either. She was all long limbs and lithe form dressed in a pair of black sweats. Somehow she made those work out clothes look like haute couture. She was a knock out. She was stunning. She was still talking to him.

"Did you hear what I said?" she asked. "You briefcase is croaking," she tried again.

Neville didn't know how his mouth rediscovered the ability to speak, but he heard himself say, "Then I better take it out back and put it out of its misery."

Neville could have slapped himself. He was never smooth with the ladies, but he had certainly never said any thing that stupid and cheesy before either. Usually he preferred to play the strong silent type with the witches. Of course that led to him spending a lot of lonely nights.

The young woman stared at him in stunned silence for a moment before dissolving into giggles.

"Well as long as you're very humane about it," she joked.

She then held out her hand.

"I'm Candide by the way."

Neville took her offered hand in his and shook it.

"Neville," he responded.

He still held her hand for a millisecond longer than was necessary, before he realized he was being rude. He moved his briefcase from the seat beside him and placed it on his lap.

"Would you like to sit?" he asked, gesturing to the seat. Candide gracefully eased herself down into it.

"So am I ever going to hear the tale of the amazing croaking briefcase?" she asked playfully as she set the gym bag that had been on her shoulder on the floor by her feet. "I'm afraid you have awoken my curiosity. Your shy little school boy smile tells me that there is more to you than I'm seeing, Neville."

Neville felt his face go hot. Was this woman flirting? Was this woman flirting with him?

"Just my pet toad," he said nervously. "Trevor."

Candide's eyebrow raised in interest.

"I don't know which to be more disturbed by," she mirthfully teased. "That you have a frog in there, or that his name is Trevor."

"Well Sir Hops-a-Lot was already taken, you see. And by the way Trevor is a toad," he scolded, laughter in his eyes.

"I'll try and remember that. So you carry your Trevor around with you in your briefcase? Doesn't he ever get a bit cramped?"

"It's better than in my pants," he let slip before he realized how terrible it sounded. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Neville wanted to just melt through the seat and disappear. But judging by the fit of giggles that remark sent Candide into, he figured that maybe he wasn't doing such a bad job really.

"I guess that would save someone the trouble of asking if that was a toad in your pocket or if you were just happy to see them," she snickered.

"I guess," he said innocently. In truth he really didn't get the joke, but he wasn't about to tell her that.

"So where are you off to?" she asked.

"Beckton," he answered. "I'm supposed to meet Rebecca there to look at a place."

"Oh," she said casually, "Rebecca's your girlfriend then?"

Neville was so stumped by the question that he went speechless for a moment. Once he realized what she was asking he blurted out, "No, no! She's my Realtor."

Candide smiled at this revelation.

"Oh."

Neville returned the smile.

"Yeah."

The two young people then sat in silence for a few seconds, big smiles plastered over both of their faces. Though he seemed calm on the outside, the inner workings of Neville's head were in a tumult. Was she interested in him? Would she say yes if he asked her out? Neville didn't even have a phone so he couldn't give her a number to reach him at. Neville had gone out with a few Muggle girls in school, but living in the dorms made socializing much easier back then. And if you wanted to ask a witch out, you simply floo'ed her. Neville had no idea what to do in this situation, though.

"Oh shite!" Candide was looking out the window. "My stop is next."

Neville felt his heart sink. Well Longbottom, you had a gorgeous girl chatting you up and you let the opportunity slip right through your stubby fingers, he thought gloomily. He resignedly sighed. Maybe it was all for the best. At least this way he wouldn't embarrass himself. Where did he get off thinking this beautiful girl would be interested in him?

"Neville," Candide said, catching his attention. She reached into her bag, pulled a peach colored card out, and handed it to him. "Mademoiselle Candide's", the card read. It also gave an address in Gallions Reach.

The train came to a stop.

"Look, I hope you don't think I'm a slag or anything. Generally I'm not this forward, but...my number is on there," she shyly pointed to the card. "I live over the studio. Give me a call sometime."

She jumped up and ran for the exit of the car, but winked at him before she squeezed through the sliding door.

Neville had a phone installed in his Gran's old house and at his store in Hogsmeade the very next day.

"You're bringing a Muggle to the Burrow?"

Although Ginny probably didn't mean to sound so shocked and horrified, that was still the way it came off to Neville.

"Do you have a problem with Muggles now, Gin?" he calmly asked.

Ginny looked abashed by his question.

"You know I don't!" she exclaimed. "You know who my father is. Why would you even ask something like that? But a Muggle girl, Neville..." she said as though scandalized by the very idea. "Are you sure about this?"

"Very."

"But you know that the Rites will be performed. Binding magic, Neville! Blood magic! She's going to witness the whole thing."

"It's ok; she knows that I'm a wizard."

Ginny was totally thrown by this admission. It wasn't uncommon for a witch or wizard to date a Muggle, her own brother had married one, but it was impressed upon them to always protect the secret of the magical world. Most times a Muggle partner wasn't told of their boyfriend or girlfriend's true nature until well after they were married. Sometimes not even then; who would want to share such a huge secret with someone you might have to have Obliviated eventually. Now here was Neville telling her that he had a Muggle girlfriend who knew exactly what he was. Was he actually serious about this girl?

"W-when...where did you meet this girl?"

"Four months and on the train," he answered easily. "Candy-"

"Candy?!" she asked disbelievingly.

"Yes, Candy Lee-"

"Candy Lee?!"

This sent Ginny into hysterics.

"Candy Lee? Oh Nev, you must be joking! Why that's...that's...a stripper's name. Or...or the name of one of those tarted up whores who pose for Ron's girlie maga-"

*whack*

Ginny froze. Neville had very swiftly and very forcefully slammed his hand onto the desk. His usually gentle hazel eyes gleamed furiously at her.

"I'll have you know that Candide Lee is a brilliant dancer! She would be well on her way to becoming a prima ballerina with the Royal Ballet right now if not for a busted knee," he said tersely. "DON'T YOU EVER REFER TO HER DISRESPECTFULLY IN MY PRESENCE! If you can't greet her like a human being tomorrow, don't speak to her at all. And while you are at it, NEVER SPEAK TO ME AGAIN!"

Neville had never been so angry in his life! Even counting the time he tried to remove Draco Malfoy's head from the rest of him outside the Potions dungeon classroom so many years ago. It wasn't as though he weren't used to Ginny criticizing the women he was interested in. Ginny made it a sort of sport. Susan was too stuffy, Annie was too stupid, Henrietta was too controlling, and Sally-Anne was too insane to hear Ginny tell it. Well Sally-Ann was crazy, but that was beside the point!

This time she had gone too far. He knew that Ginny's smart mouth was known to say hurtful things from time to time. Usually these moments were humorous and everyone laughed and remarked on how clever and wonderful Ginny was. But a lot of times she could be downright mean and hot headed and say something harsh and unfeeling, like now. Neville pushed off the floor with his feet so he could turn his chair to the side. He didn't feel much like looking at Ginny at the moment.

"Gin, it's late," he said in a drained and tired voice. "Are you ever going to tell me why you came all the way out here? Shouldn't you be home with your husband?"

Because of the way Neville was positioned, he didn't see the slick paths of tears that were trailing down each of Ginny's pale cheeks. He was still so worked up that he hadn't heard the choked, sniveling sounds she had been making. He didn't notice her distress until a sob broke free from her.

"Gin," he said softly, turning his head to look at her.

Ginny folded her arms on the desk, placed her face on them, and began to wail loudly.

"Gin?" he tried again, gently. His kindly tone seemed to make her cry harder.

Neville let out a sigh of resignation. Ginny could be mean spirited and at times callous, but that did not negate the fact that she was his friend; his very best friend in fact. No matter how angry he got at her he couldn't bear to see her in tears.

He left his chair and walked to Ginny's side. He got down on his knees and placed a comforting arm around her shoulders. Ginny raised her head from the desk and gazed into Neville's concerned face before throwing herself into his arms.

"There, there," he soothingly whispered, "tell Neville all about it."

Ginny choked on her sobs for a moment before she was able to speak.

"He doesn't love me anymore, Neville! He doesn't; I just know it!"

Of course Neville knew who "he" was.

"I'm starting to think he never did."

"Don't be silly," he said smoothly as he rubbed comforting circles into her back. "You are Ginevra. How can anyone not love you?"

She sniffed.

"You don't understand. He's...I think he's still having those dreams."

Neville continued trying to assuage Ginny's fears.

"Gin, Harry's a man. Men tend to have..." he paused uncomfortably, "...those dreams. It's natural."

Ginny pulled away from him abruptly.

"It's natural not to want to shag your own wife?!" she asked hotly.

Neville was mortified into silence.

"'Cause he doesn't, you know. He'd rather bang what ever harlots he runs into in lala land while I'm right down the hall." She swallowed painfully. "Why doesn't he want me?!" cried Ginny miserably.

Neville didn't know what to say. Ginny had come to him a few months prior with this dream nonsense, but back then he didn't think it was that serious. What man hadn't had a wet dream a time or two? He had no idea that things were this dire, though. Obviously Ginny had left a few things out the last time they had chatted.

"I d-don't know Ginny," Neville said as gently as he could.

Ginny leaned into his chest and began to quietly cry again.

Neville felt like he was being put into a precarious position, smack-dab in the middle of the Potter marriage. It was a dream marriage, or so the papers said. But he knew from little things that Ginny had mentioned to him over the years that her and Harry's union was far from perfect. Sometimes he thought he knew the reason for the problems, but those kinds of thoughts just seemed disloyal somehow. Harry had been his mate since they were kids. Neville had even stood up for him at his wedding along with Ron, Dean, Seamus, and the twins. And Ginny? Ginny was his dearest friend in the world. Ginny was the one person he trusted above all others. Ginny was his heart. He would do anything to help her.

Even if it meant making her very, very angry.

"Gin," he tentatively started, "did you ever think about asking Harry this question?"

Ginny pushed Neville away from her.

"Merlin and Morrígan, Neville! I can't do that!"

The way she reacted to the suggestion one would have thought he asked her to walk naked through the Ministry.

"Why not, Gin?"

"Because..." she started uneasily. "Because...dammit Nev, I just can't!"

Ginny jumped up from her seat and began to franticly pace the confines of the office. Neville watched her progress for a moment before he tried to get her attention.

"Gin-"

"I'm just being stupid," Ginny said with a nervous giggle, cutting him off. "Harry's just been under so much stress with the job. His Head of Department relies on him, you know. His right hand, Harry is. And I in turn have just been blowing every little thing out of proportion."

Her words oozed false bravado and of course Neville saw straight through her pretenses.

"No you haven't, you're voicing a genuine concern."

"No I'm not!" she countered sorely.

"You're unhappy."

"NO I'M BLOODY WELL NOT!" Now she was practically seething.

"Gin, let's not make a mockery of our friendship by force feeding me some lies that you have almost made yourself believe."

"Nev, what do you want me to do?!" she implored. She had stopped pacing and was standing before him.

He eased off his knees and stood up.

"Tell your husband how you feel."

"I can't!" she yelped while stomping her foot in protest.

"Why?"

"Because if Harry hasn't noticed yet that there's a bleeding problem, I'm sure as hell not going to go rub his nose into it."

"Maybe you need to. Maybe that will help solve the problem."

"There is no problem."

"Oh really? Do you even hear yourself? If everything is just hunky and dory, why are you traipsing around Hogsmeade near dusk, crying into my work robes like a child, instead of being in that mausoleum of yours you call a house?"

Ginny's fists clenched and her face became mutinous. He thought he heard the faint rattle of their cups on the desk.

"If you're trying to be a bastard about this-"

"No, just your friend."

"THEN BE MY FRIEND!" she bellowed. He would be surprised if they didn't hear her all the way at the Broomsticks. "Be my friend, Nev! Tell me what I'm doing wrong! Help me try to save my marriage!"

"Gin...I...I can't."

"Can't or won't?!" she demanded, glaring down her nose at him.

Neville didn't know what to make of the question.

"Neville, do you know how long I waited to be Mrs. Harry Potter? Do you know how many nights I sat up in bed and begged whatever deities that were available to make that happen? I can't lose it. I just can't! It's too important to me."

"Why?"

Ginny frowned as though she didn't understand the question. Neville decided to change tactics. He strolled over to the wall by the door and leaned against it casually. He figured he might need an escape route shortly.

"You know, you remind me of my cousin Pim."

Ginny did a double take at the non-sequitur.

"Pimenta?" she queried. "Pimenta Longbottom? The one that's a tart?"

"Well the family prefers morally ambiguous, but yeah, that's the one," Neville said amusedly.

"Isn't she like some groupie slag for the Weird Sisters?"

"Actually she's the drummer's girlfriend," he replied. "But Thruston treats her a bit like a groupie slag, so you're not that far off. In fact I think he treats the groupie slags better than Pim."

"Are you insinuating that Harry is cheating on me?"

Ginny was beyond livid.

"Because that is complete and utter rot! You forget Neville that I would know if Harry had broken his vows!"

"I didn't forget. That's not what I was trying to say. Besides, I don't think Harry would ever purposely set out to hurt you," he said gently.

Neville cleared his throat as he shifted back to his topic.

"But you see...Cousin Pim is this great, cute, charming girl, yet she feels the need to let that lout Thruston put her down. Whenever you ask her about it she acts as though being Orsino Thruston's girlfriend is worth the abuse that she takes. You remind me of Pim in that way," he said staring fixedly on her.

"Not that Harry is treating you badly," he quickly asserted. "It's just...well...sometimes, Gin, it's almost like you feel that any unhappiness that you have comes only a distant second to being Mrs. Harry James Potter. That the title is all that matters to you. That the title comes first; even before your very husband. Tell me I'm wrong?!"

It was almost a demand the way he framed the last bit. For what could have been mere seconds, but what felt like days, the two friends regarded each other in thick silence. Then, as though smashed to bits by the very quiet, Neville's mug exploded.

"I want to leave."

Ginny gathered her robes about her as though she were some highborn duchess and headed to the door, head held regally high. She stopped in front of it as though awaiting a herald to open it for her. Neville leaned over and perfunctorily turned the knob to let her out.

"I'm telling you these things because you are my friend, Gin. I only want to see you happy," he said.

Ginny had almost cleared the door. His words made her come to a halt. She turned her head slowly to the side, and as her pretty blue eyes flared at him malevolently, Neville knew in his heart that their friendship would never be quite the same.

"We both know that you wouldn't cry over me and Harry breaking up," Ginny insolently retorted. "As you've said so yourself; let's not make a mockery of this friendship."

And with that she flounced out of the storeroom office.

Neville knew that with his wards Ginny wouldn't be able to Apparate out of his shop. She would have to walk all the way outside so that still left time for him to catch up to her, haul her back in, and try to talk some sense into her. But all these years of knowing Ginny Weasley, now Potter, had taught him that when she had a cob-on it was best to leave her to her own devices and wait for her to cool down. She might have grown up from the little girl who would throw a Bat Bogey Hex at you at the slightest provocation (and really those things were quite icky, though Neville would have never told her so himself), but she would still freeze you out or mock you. Or worse, make all the hairs on your man bits disappear for a few hours, to hear Dean tell it.

But truth be told, Neville was a bit peeved at her himself. How dare she insinuate what she alluded to! As if he would purposely try to throw a wrench into Ginny and Harry's domestic bliss. No one was a bigger champion for their union. Neville nearly idol worshiped Harry back in his youth. Such was the case since the incident with his Remembrall back when they first started Hogwarts together. From that very moment Neville always felt a bond, a sort of kinship to Harry that he could never explain.

This connection was further strengthened that Christmas they ran into each other on the Janus Thickey ward at St. Mungo's. Neville and his Gran had been visiting his parents there when Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny happened on them. Neville never forgot the way that his house mate looked at him that day. Not with pity, but instead heartbreaking empathy. Alice and Frank Longbottom may not have met the same fate as James and Lily Potter, but Neville mourned their absence from his life just the same. When he, for all intensive purposes, stumbled his way into the plot to rescue Harry's godfather, Neville never hesitated to go. That was what he joined the DA for after all, wasn't it? He had always hoped to be worthy of fighting at Harry's side one day. So what if he could have gotten killed!

If given the chance Neville would have fought his way right up to Voldemort's door alongside the Chosen One. But after Harry, Hermione, and Ron dropped out of sight shortly after Bill's wedding, it didn't take a genius to figure out that the fate of their world was about to be decided. Neville only wished that he could somehow do his part. That was what led him to move to Ottery St. Catchpole. If Harry was going to save the world, Neville was going to protect The Chosen One's girl.

He knew at the time that the two were broken up. Hermione had filled him in on everything as they chatted after the wedding. Harry broke up with Ginny so she would be out of harms way. In Neville's opinion it was a very brave and noble decision he had made. But the way Neville figured, when Harry came home (it was a never a question of if in his mind), he would want to be with the girl he loved. Neville was determined to make sure that happened. If anyone was going to come after Ginny Weasley they would have to come through him first.

He moved in with his Uncle Jasper who lived not too far from Stoatshead Hill. Uncle Jasp lived on a farm with his two adult children; Pim and Wright. Neville came to live there under the pretense that he was helping his Uncle and cousins with the jarvey mill that they ran. Neville's Gran at first protested the idea, but after Neville begged and pleaded she gave in. There was no telling when or even if Hogwarts would open again and the boy needed to do something useful with his time, she reasoned. Plus it would do Neville good to be out in the fresh air instead of stuck inside the Longbottom family home in Lancashire with only an old woman, an even older house-elf, and his aunt and uncle to keep him company.

Problem was Neville barely stayed at the farm. He spent most of his free time over at the Burrow. He would do little odd jobs around the place for Mrs. Weasley like de-gnoming the garden or cleaning out the stone outhouse in the back. He would listen to Mr. Weasley gab on about microwave diners and why wizards needed to look into getting on "the net". Whenever they stopped by he would allow the twins to use him as a guinea pig to try out whatever their latest invention was. Most importantly he would follow Ginny around like a sentinel, helping her with her chores or simply keeping her company.

At first Ginny seemed extremely annoyed by Neville's constant presence. During those first few visits she would always ask him belligerently why he was stalking her. She even sent a stinging hex at him once. Sure it was because he had followed her out to the pond one hot afternoon while she was taking a dip, but it wasn't as if Neville had purposely set out to see her starkers.

He supposed that her attitude towards him had something to do with the fact that they were not that close at school. The most time they had ever spent with one another was during the Yule Ball. All Neville recalled of the Ball was that he drank a lot of punch and that she glared at Parvati Patil for most of the night. The greater portion of the evening consisted of him nearly murdering her toes. She only really went with him because, as a lowly Third Year, he was her golden ticket in. In later years, despite the fact that they were both in Gryffindor house, they were barely acquaintances. Ginny was pretty and popular and funny. Neville was...well...Neville. They just didn't exist in the same spheres.

Ginny and Neville eventually developed a friendship as time progressed. She begrudgingly began to look forward to his calls. They would sometimes collect Luna and go fishing in the River Otter. Ginny even taught Neville how to ride a broom and not look so gormless doing so. Although he knew that somewhere out in the world the future was at stake, he couldn't help the happiness he felt just being around her. After a while Neville came to think that looking out for Ginny was the best decision he had ever made.

Then at the end of March his Gran died. Neville had been at the Burrow, as was usual, picking flowers with Ginny and Luna. His cousin Wry had come to tell him the news and fetch him. Neville had nearly gone white when his Uncle Algie told him how the old woman died asking to see him. The touchstone of Neville's life was gone and he had never gotten a chance to say goodbye.

In her will Augusta left Neville a sizable amount of galleons to be held in trust until his 21st birthday. She left the house to Algie and Enid, but stipulated that Neville was always to have a home there. She also left her portrait to her beloved Frank's only child. Neville hung it up in the library over the fireplace. He would sit before it daily and not move from that spot for hours. Although he couldn't bear to bring his eye up to meet those of his Gran's in the picture, he just knew what the expression on her face would be, disappointment. Ginny found him much this way one morning.

"Go-hic-away."

Neville was seated as usual on the ox-blood leather couch in the library, face in his hands. A half-empty bottle of Killerman's Hiccoughing Cognac was on the floor by his feet. Even though Neville didn't have a great liking for the brandy, it did help him feel numb. He preferred that feeling to the aching guilt and loneliness he was trying to fight off. He was nearly bombed out and the brandy was making him a wee snappish, unfortunately.

"I SAID, GO-hic-AWAY!"

The moment Ginny walked into the room he knew it was her. He knew her scent; cinnamon and mint. As she settled down on the sofa with him, it was almost strong enough to overpower the stench of alcohol in the study.

"Nope. Sorry. Can't do that," she said smartly.

He turned his head to look at her. She was just as beautiful as she was the last time he had seen her, at his Gran's funeral. Even with her long flaming hair trussed up in two ridiculous looking pony tails on either side of her head, she was a vision. She was dressed casually in a jumper and a pair of jeans. He noticed how pink her cheeks were and how her navy eyes sparkled. He almost forgot to feel sorry for himself while looking at her. Almost.

"What are you-hic-doing here?" he asked gravely.

As though ignoring his tone, she breezily answered, "Mum made a Simnel cake. I brought you a big slice; nearly lost a few fingers to Fred trying to save it for you."

Neville's stomach growled at the sound of that. He loved Molly Weasley's Simnel cake. She would lather and stuff the sweet liberally with enough marzipan to make one weep. But he didn't give any sign of this.

"Whimsy let you in?" Neville asked morosely.

Ginny nodded her head.

"And she's very worried about you, Nev. She told me that you haven't been eating well these past few days."

"I ought to give her shoes!" he grumped, then hiccupped.

"Member of spew, are we?" she joked.

"That's S-P-E-W. And I'll have you know that I'm a long time, due paying member."

He lifted the bottle of Killerman's to his lips and was about to tip it back. Ginny snatched it from his hands swiftly and put it on the end table next to her.

"No more of that for you, unless you want to be hiccupping for hours afterwards. The twins once went at it for three days after a bender on this swill. I never understood why one would drink to excess something that will just send you into a fit."

"Because Killerman never found a cure for that particular side effect," he answered, trying to reach across her to get at the bottle. "Besides who cares if you hock up a-hic-lung, just as long as you get good-hic-and-hic-pissed. HIC!"

The last one came out as more of a watery belch, but she didn't seem to mind. Instead Ginny gazed at Neville compassionately.

"Why would you want to do that?"

Neville felt his eyes burn with the tears he hadn't shed since his grandmother passed away. He was horrified that he was about to start blubbering in front of Ginny, of all people! He swallowed back the tears and tried to make his voice calm. It ended up sounding dead.

"I've got no mum. I've got no dad. And now I don't have-hic-her," he said sadly. His eyes fleetingly went up towards the portrait, but quickly dropped away again in shame. "I have no one."

"Now Neville Longbottom, that just isn't true!" Ginny exclaimed in astonishment. "You have friends; friends that have been worried about you, friends that have missed you. I've missed you! You must know that."

Neville turned away from her.

"I should have been here," he said softly.

Ginny sighed. She gently placed her hand on his chin and turned him back to look at her.

"Is that what it is then? Guilt?" When Neville didn't answer her she continued. "Do you really think this is what your grandmother would want, Nev? For you to waste away in this drafty house? She loved you, Neville. She would want you to move on and be happy."

"The Weasley girl is quite right!"

Both teens turned to the portrait of the venerable Longbottom matriarch in shock. Neville had honestly forgotten that she was in the same room with them. Ginny could have sworn that the frightening woman had been asleep, rocking back and forth in her painted rocking chair, when she first came into the room. As always Neville's grandmother wore her signature vulture stuffed hat, but her bottle green robes and her fox fur scarf looked brand new, as if she bought them solely for the purpose of sitting for the painting. Her hair was steel gray, but still retained streaks of the light brown color it had once been; the same color as Neville's hair.

"Always remember Neville, we Longbottoms endure. Through all trails and tribulations, we endure," she said with a proud and majestic air.

Ginny took this as her cue to stand up.

"C'mon Nev, you're coming with me."

She was pulling him up along with her.

Neville looked fretfully between Ginny and his grandmother who was still staring down from her portrait frame at them.

"W-what? W-where?"

She was guiding him to the door.

"First we're off to the kitchen to have a piece of that cake, then to the Burrow for dinner. Mum cooks enough to feed a set of elephants. And even then the twins leave plenty enough food for more."

He tried to protest, to stop in his tracks.

"G-Gin...please-hic-wait!"

"Aren't you supposed to be looking after me?"

Neville's eyes became saucers. He began to unconsciously stutter like a mad fool. How did she know? Who told her that, he wondered.

"Who t-told you th-that?" he asked hurriedly, his words tripping on the hiccups colliding in his chest.

"Luna," Ginny answered.

"I n-never-hic-told Luna-hic-that!"

She shrugged her shoulders.

"Guess she just figured it out on her own then."

Before Neville could digest this information further, Ginny said something that further shocked him.

"If you're supposed to be my grand protector you're doing a piss poor job of it. Your cousin Wry has been to the house three times this week. Three times! I think someone needs to give him a firm talking to."

Neville expected Ginny to be angry if she ever found out why he had been hanging around the Burrow so much. But she gave no sign that she was. In fact she seemed to think the whole thing was corking. Neville couldn't help the smile that formed on his face that matched the one on hers.

"I had hoped-hic-to protect you from a cadre of blood thirsty Death Eaters."

Ginny smirked impishly at him.

"Have you ever smelled Wry's breath? Ack! I'd rather the Death Eaters."

In those next few weeks after his grandmother's death Neville and Ginny became nearly inseparable. They hilariously dubbed themselves "The Duo". It was their private joke. They also shared their fears, their joys, as well as their triumphs. When she would cry on his shoulder that she didn't think Harry would be able to defeat He Who Must Not Be Named, Neville reassured her and told her that everything would work itself out in the end. When Neville joked that he was no better than a Squib, she firmly reprimanded him and told him that that just wasn't true.

Neville stood by Ginny's side right until the day that Harry finally came home from the War. He stood by and watched her run into the battered boy's arms like it was New Years day. It was the perfect tableau; the Conquering Hero Returns. Neville had been happy for them. Neville had even smiled.

Neville was sitting at his desk, brooding over the scene he had just had with Ginny. He hated to be at odds with her. It never sat well with him.

"Whimsy?"

*pop*

Faster than you could say You-Know-Poo the little house-elf that had belonged to his grandmother since she was a girl appeared before him on the desk.

"ARG!" Neville started, falling out of his seat. He hated when she did that.

"You wants old Whimsy, Young Longbottoms?" she asked in her tinkly little voice.

As Neville seated himself in his chair again, he smiled kindly at her.

"I need you to do me a favor, Whimsy."

"Young Longbottoms," Whimsy said reproachfully, "Whimsy doesn't have to do no favor. Whimsy just does."

"Of course, of course," he shyly said. "Listen, Whimsy, you've seen all of that imported coffee I have in the cupboard at home, haven't you?"

Whimsy frowned scornfully. It would seem that she held the same opinion of Australian Mountain Peaberry as Harry Potter.

"Yes, Young Longbottoms. Would you like Whimsy to be throwing it away?" she asked hopefully.

"No, Whimsy," Neville said, not bothering to hide his amusement. "I want you to take it, all of it, to Mr. and Mrs. Harry Potter's. Can you manage that?"

"Of course, Young Longbottoms!"

Quick as a flash Whimsy was gone.

Neville sat back in his chair. He was bone tired and he knew he should be making his way back home, but he had promised the blokes from the shop he would play a game of Gobstones with them at the pub. However he knew that he wouldn't be able to concentrate much on the game. All he could think on was whether or not Ginny would accept his peace offering. He didn't want to show up tomorrow at the Burrow and feel any discomfort between them.

He figured that Ginny just needed someone to vent her frustrations at. She was going through a difficult patch in her marriage and she was confused as to what to do. As her friend it was his responsibility to help her through it. She had to know that he would. She had to know that, more than anything, he wanted her relationship with Harry to work out. And if Ginny wanted his assistance, Neville would do his best to give her all the help that he could.

After all, that's the sort of thing you did for the woman you were in love with.

A/N: Next up is Ron's POV. Things to look forward to: a horcrux gets destroyed, a sacrifice gets made, and a relationship comes to an end. And for an added bonus you get introduced to Violet Elvyrrah Pye.

A few more points of interest...

1) All characters other than Orestes, Holden, Emmalith Loudermilk, Whimsy the house-elf, Jasper Longbottom, Wright Longbottom, Pimenta Longbottom, Maeve Brown, Kelly (Brown) Greenberg, Allen Parker, Candide Lee, Rebecca the Realtor, Henrietta, Annie, and Killerman are canon.

2) Integrosectum is some diced up Latin. Integro= heal(Latin) & seco= to cut(Latin)

4) According to Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them a jarvey resembles a large ferret and can speak(usually bad language).

5) DeVine&Thorny plant store, Madamoiselle Candide's dance studio, and the brandy Killerman's Hiccoughing Cognac are all original to this story.

Tell me if you like it. Tell me if you hate it. Just tell me something. Please review.