(no subject)

[such_heights]

The Yule Ball
PG, 2800+ words
Neville/Ginny
Note: Written for ouchkibble as part of a gift exchange in housegryffin



Neville heartily wishes that the words ‘Yule’ and ‘Ball’ had never been spliced together in such a horrendous fashion. Seemingly innocuous by themselves, together they have created a monster that makes Neville want to crawl into a hole and die quietly. His world has gone utterly insane – girls have become terrifyingly alien, and the boys are terrifyingly not so. Neville marvels at the professors for allowing teenage hormones to run riot like this.

Not only is the school slowly robbing him of his sanity, but there is the added knowledge that he is required to attend said ball and must therefore sport dress robes and, theoretically at least, find a member of the opposite sex to tolerate his company for the evening. Full of grief, he pulls the sheets over his head, wishing he could just stay in on Christmas night, accompanied solely by a good book, which doesn’t care what he looks like, and won’t laugh if he trips over his words. As if to spite him, at that very moment Seamus bursts into the dormitory, looking extremely pleased with himself.

‘Neville! Am I the man, or am I the man?’

Neville groans. In the fact of such cheeriness, playing dead seems futile.

‘Seamus. What have you done?’

‘I have got myself a girl! For the ball! And it’s none other than Miss Lavender Brown!’ Seamus, rather horrifically, wolf-whistles.

‘Well, that’s very nice. Good for you.’

Seamus sits on Neville’s bed and laughs. Neville wonders whatever became of personal space.

‘And what about you, eh? Got yourself a bird yet?’

Inwardly, Neville winces. Granted, some girls might as well have claws, but they don’t have to beak and feathers to match.

‘No, no, I thought I might just go alone, you know, see the band and all that.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous! Malfoy has a partner – you have to get one too!’

‘Draco is good-looking. Girls like him. They don’t like me.’

‘Of course they like you! C’mon, there must be one you’d like to take?’

‘Err, well… um, no! Anyway, she wouldn’t… no!’

‘Mmhmm. Neville. Look at me. Look at me!. By this time tomorrow, you will have got yourself a partner, ok?’

Neville nods miserably, debating whether running away and become a hermit is currently a viable option.

***

Ginny is sick to death of the Yule Ball, and it isn’t for weeks yet. She only wishes her dormitory would shut up about it already! They would know there’s no way they’re going to go, if they had any sense, so what’s the point? At this juncture, a particularly inane bit of conversation drifts over to her.

‘Well, apparently Harry hasn’t got a partner yet’ (the word ‘Harry’ said with the most irritating sigh Ginny has ever heard), ‘maybe I could go with him!’

Her companion scoffs.

‘Well, a girl can dream, can’t she? That’s if Ginny hasn’t already bagged him…’

‘Oh shut up, that was two years ago for heaven’s sake!’ Ginny fumes, ‘will you ever let that go?’

‘No!’

‘Fine. No, I haven’t ‘bagged’ him, he’s all yours.’

And Ginny rolls over, exasperated, closing her curtains with an especially strong Silencing Charm to stop the madness. It’s not that she doesn’t want to go, as such, but it’s only one evening, and besides, the whole partners thing is completely ridiculous. After much careful study, Ginny has concluded that all boys are idiots. Some are endearing in spite of this fundamental disadvantage, but she can’t think of a single one she’d want to go to a ball with.

***

Neville paces up and down, attempting to work himself up to the task. He moves his arms in a sort of frantic dance, takes a few deep breaths then decides this is doing him no good at all.

She’s nice to you, she won’t laugh at you, she might even say yes

Neville strides down the stairs, through the common room and into the corridor.

Aha! There she is. Right, Neville, Gryffindor spirit

‘Um, hi Hermione!’

‘Hello’
‘Err, can I just ask you something? This whole stupid ball thing ,err, well, I haven’t got a partner yet, and, err, I was wondering if maybe you would mind going with me? I mean, because you’re my friend, not because I, well, y’know… Oh God, shutting up now…’

‘Oh Neville, I’m really sorry! I’m already going with somebody else.’

‘Yes, of course you are. Stupid of me to ask.’

‘No, no, it wasn’t stupid at all.’

‘Well, anyway, the quest continues I suppose.’

She smiles. ‘Good luck!’

What possessed you to do that?? She was obviously going to have already been asked, there was no need to humiliate yourself further. And now she’s going to think that you’re an idiot, or that you fancy her, or both. Nice going Longbottom

‘Nnnyaaarggh,’ wails Neville, articulately.

***

Ginny raises an eyebrow as Hermione walks in. ‘What happened to you?’

‘Oh, nothing. I just, well, Neville just asked me to go to the ball with him, and I feel really bad turning him down!’

‘It’s not your fault.’

‘Oh I know. But he really ought to go with someone nice, and I’m worried he won’t ask anybody else now, which is such a shame.’ Hermione glances at Ginny at this point, and almost feels the igniting light bulb in her mind.

‘Neville’s just so nice, you know?’ she continues. ‘He’s very considerate and polite, and I’m sure he’d treat a girl really well. But I don’t know who he could go with, I really don’t.’

Hermione disappears off upstairs, and Ginny has to tell herself extremely firmly not to be a fool.

***

‘Ron, I’m such an idiot,’ Neville groans as they walk out of Potions.

‘Why? What’ve you done?’

‘Only gone and asked Hermione to the ball.’

‘You did what?? What did she say?’
‘She’s going with somebody else.’

Ron pats Neville on the shoulder. Neville wants to hit him.

‘Don’t worry mate, not the end of the world!’

Neville sighs, not comforted. Seamus bounds up.

‘Neville! Have you pulled yet?’

‘No, I haven’t.’

‘Time’s ticking away, you’d better hurry up! Go, find someone now!’

Neville sees this as a very good excuse to disappear away. If I ask her, she will laugh in my face. She will already be going with someone. Why would she want to go with me? There’s no way, no way, but I have to, or else I’ll kick myself. Oh God, why I do this to myself?

***

Stop it. Stop it right now. You know perfectly well it’s not going to happen.

But Ginny can’t help it, all day. She can’t believe Hermione had to point it out to her, but she’s suddenly remembered that not all boys are utterly hopeless, and Neville is not hopeless at all.

But there’s no point realising this now, because it’s not going to happen. She sighs. Why do I do this to myself?

Ginny gasps, really not expecting to see Neville appear at that very moment.

‘Neville! Hi!’ Why is my voice so high??

Neville is equally stunned and instantly goes red. Why does this girl always make him do such stupid things?

‘Hi, Ginny. You alright?’

‘Yes I’m fine, er, thank you. How are you? You look a little flushed.’

Oh crap. ‘Hmm? Oh no, I’ve just been running, umm, walking, err, it’s cold out?’ Neville clamps his mouth shut, horrified.

Ginny laughs, and his stomach runs and hides. But it doesn’t look like she’s laughing at him, not yet anyway. Right, this is it.

‘Um, Ginny? I was, um, err,’ oh for heaven’s sake, be a man! ‘Would you like to go to the Ball with me?’ Once he’s said the fateful words, his mouth continues to work, and it’s a massive effort not to run for the hills.

Ginny splutters, and Neville winces, waiting for the laughter. ‘Are you serious?’ she gasps. Here it comes… He nods.

‘Then yes! I’d love to.’

What??! ‘Really? Oh! Well, great!

‘Ok! Right. Umm…’

‘Yes. Well, err, thank you!’

‘Not at all. Umm, see you later?’

‘Right!’

They both stand there, looking bewildered and shocked, but both grinning stupidly. Ginny is the first to make a break for it, running even though her legs have turned to jelly. She starts laughing at nothing, catches her breath then nigh-on skips back up to the common room.

Neville remains there, completely forgetting to breathe. She said yes, she said yes, she’s coming with me!. And he lets out a spontaneous ‘Ha!’ of laughter, startling a pack of first years. He starts walking off, then freezes. ‘Oh God. Now what?’

***

When one is simultaneously dreading and anticipating something, time moves very strangely. Some days, every lesson seems to have doubled in length, Ginny feels, other days are over before they’ve even begun. She doesn’t want to get overly excited about it, it’s only a ball, after all, but she can’t really help it.

Anyway, he probably only asked me because he didn’t want go alone. I was second choice as it is. He’ll probably just take me there and then ditch me.

Neville has never been so terrified in his life. Potions seems a doddle now, because his mind is very firmly occupied on other things, because this is Ginny and it’s an occasion and if he screws it up in any way he’s blown it forever, and this is the only chance he’s ever going to get with her, because if he messes up she’ll probably never speak to him again.

Besides, she probably only said she’d come because she wouldn’t get to go otherwise. We’ll go and then she’ll run off with someone much better-looking than me and that book’s going to looking very appealing after all.

***

They stand shoulder to shoulder. Some are pale, some red; Harry looks as if he might be sick. In spite of his nerves, Neville feels a rare of feeling of superiority as he glances over at Ron’s dress robes.

Looking as if he’s going to his own funeral, Seamus glances at his watch. ‘Right lads, shall we go?’

Wordlessly, they descend.

Ginny looks herself over one last time in the mirror. She is alone, having snapped at the other girls so much they eventually stormed out en masse. There’s no point thinking about the dress, nothing she can do about that. She’s done the best she can with the little makeup she possesses, and her hair was hopeless to start off with.

Making the best of a bad lot, that’s Ginny Weasley for you.

She walks slowly and stiffly down the stairs, cursing herself for not thinking to practise walking in these shoes.

The common room is full of people and extremely noisy. In the blur of people, Ginny has no idea if he’s there yet or not. She looks around anxiously from the stairs, not wishing to have to stand like a lemon for too long.

Neville looks around, not able to pick her out of the crowd. Suddenly he looks upwards, and there she is, standing on the stairs, looking anxious. And completely stunning. He stares at her, feeling physically winded. How did this happen? How did I manage this?

Suddenly, Ginny spots him and meets his eye. She bites her lip, then smiles and walks the rest of the way down. Neville closes his eyes for a moment and takes a deep breath. Right, this is it, your one chance.

He walks over to her, holding his head up, pushing his shoulders back. Taking another steadying breath he extends his arm. ‘Good evening.’ He smiles. ‘You look beautiful.’

Ginny blushes, murmurs her thanks and takes his arm. They start their slow procession downstairs, Ginny desperate not to trip up, Neville trying to avoid stepping on her dress.

Before he knows what he’s doing, they’re all in the Great Hall, and it would appear this is the moment of the first dance. The champions get up, and Ginny laughs at Harry’s pained concentration. Neville smiles – for once, not envying the boy one bit. He glances over at Ginny.

‘Harry. You don’t still, y’know, do you?’

Ginny looks at him. ‘No, no, I don’t. He’s a friend.’

‘Right.’

‘I think people are beginning to start dancing now.’

‘Oh. So they are. Do you, err, want to dance?’ I don’t dance, I can’t dance… oh please let this be ok, please let me not kill anybody. She takes his hand and they get up.

They stand to the side on the dance floor. Neville realises he’s forgotten everything he knew and he looks at Ginny slightly pleadingly. She puts her hand on his shoulder, and it starts coming back to him. Extremely tentatively, he places his hand on her waist, feeling even more self-conscious than he was before. She takes his hand and smiles at him again, and he feels heartened. Slowly, they begin to move, and it’s not nearly as bad as Neville feared, and it’s a full five minutes before he treads on her toe, and then it doesn’t happen again.

Maybe I’m actually doing this right.

Ginny doesn’t feel like herself. She stands to one side and watches how she’s dancing, dancing with a boy who’s dangerously close to sweeping her off her feet, and she feels terribly grown up but really very young all at once. The rest of the world seems very far away, because this boy is so close and she’s shivering slightly and all she can really hear is the sound of their breath.

The world starts drifting back to her, and she realises that there are far fewer couples around now. How long have we been here?

‘Ginny? Are you alright?’

‘More than alright. Shall we go for a walk? I could do with some air.’

‘Ok, if you like.’

They step out into the grounds, and it’s undeniably romantic. Neville takes her arm again and Ginny thrills a little bit. It’s a very still night, with little sounds moving around them – other couples talking and the rustling of a light wind. The moon shines on the lake, and the stars are out in full force, as if they know this is a night where they will be particularly appreciated. The cold suddenly hits her, and she shivers slightly. Neville knows perfectly well what he ought to do now, so he slips his coat off and puts it round her shoulders. She smiles that smile again, and very cautiously he leaves his arm around her, waiting for the slightest indication that she objects. But nothing happens, and they continue walking.

Ginny is the first to break their silence. ‘Thank so much for tonight. It was really, really nice.’ Her cheekbones hurt a little, but she really doesn’t want to stop smiling.
‘Oh. You’re very welcome. I’m glad you had a good time.’

‘I did.’

‘Me too.’

Silence once again. But it’s not an awkward silence, like the ones Neville’s used to. This isn’t what happens when you say the wrong thing, when you’re left in a room with someone you’re afraid to talk to, this is just saying nothing. This is amazing. I suppose I’ll wake up any minute now.

‘Ginny?’ he says eventually, startling himself with his own voice.

‘Yes?’

‘I’ve liked you for ages, you know.’

‘Really? I… I didn’t know that.’

‘Well, no. Nobody did. Do you mind?’

‘Mind? No, I don’t mind at all.’

They’re both whispering now, both equally afraid the spell, not like anything they’re taught at school, will be broken.

Ok, this is it. Now or never and all that. This is as close as you’ll ever be to her.

‘Would you mind very much if I kissed you now?’

‘No,’ she breathes.

He moves forwards, puts a hand behind her head, and before Ginny can really process what’s happening, she’s kissing him. They say it’s like fireworks, but Ginny doesn’t think so at all. It’s more like an inner gasp, and then a melting, a shattered melting, and that doesn’t even make sense. But none of this really makes sense, does it? It breaks, and she opens her eyes, feeling less herself than ever.

Once again, Neville forgets to breathe. Now I really know I’m dreaming. That cannot have just happened. But it has, and she’s there, and she’s real, and Neville feels like he’s just looked into the heart of the sun and come away unscathed.

Best not push it.

‘It’s late, we should probably go back,’ he says, in something more like his normal voice.

‘Yes, ok. But we ought – we should do this again.’

Neville struggles to keep his composure. ‘Yes. Absolutely.’

They walk back to the school, Ginny leaning her head on his shoulder. They reach the common room and she shrugs off his jacket.

‘Thank you again, for everything.’ And Ginny gives him a swift peck of a kiss before spiriting herself away upstairs. It is fully five minutes before it occurs to Neville that he should do the same.