“Lavender Brown!” laughed Fred Weasley rather cruelly. “Of all the girls you could have picked “ Lavender Brown! That girl’s head’s so full air, it’s a wonder she doesn’t float away!”
“Beggars can’t be choosers,” muttered Harry rather glumly. “It was virtually Lavender or no one at all.” The Marauders were having their regular evening “staff meeting” in the Gryffindor common room. Sat a few feet away, Neville was listening in as he often liked to do. He thought they were being a bit harsh on Lavender, but he was used to the often biting humour the Marauders used amongst themselves by now. It seemed Harry and Ron had struggled even more than he had to find dates for the Yule Ball.
“It’s your own stupid fault for leaving it so late, Prongs,” said George. “I mean, term ended yesterday. No wonder there was no one left. Even Neville’s got a date, even if it is only our little sister. Er, no offence, Neville,” he added quickly, realising Neville was there.
“None taken,” replied Neville amiably. He’d been a little worried at what Fred and George might say when they found out he was taking Ginny, but their inevitable jibes had all been good natured; they didn’t seem to mind at all. Ron had so far said nothing to him; he had had concerns of his own.
“If you’re taking Lavender, which poor girl has been lumbered with Padfoot here?” asked Fred.
“Lavender’s friend Parvati Patil,” replied Harry. Ron looked no more excited at the prospect than Harry was. Fred had been dropping hints that Harry had wanted to ask somebody else, from a different house, to the ball but had been turned down, explaining why he was so late in finding someone. What Ron’s excuse was, Neville didn’t know. Perhaps he found girls as much of a mystery as Neville did.
Since his talk with Hermione three days earlier, Neville had been doing his best to take more of an active interest in the doings of people around him, but it hadn’t been easy. He was by nature a solitary person and always found it uncomfortable putting himself forward in a conversation.
He hadn’t talked to Ginny since he’d invited her to the ball, but he’d seen her sitting in the common room with her friends a couple of times. She didn’t seem to be any different than usual. Given what Hermione had said, he tried to think back over all he knew about Ginny Weasley, but only found himself more confused. If all that odd behaviour she’d shown around him in her first year (his second) had been due to a crush, then should he have known? Why did nobody say anything to him at the time?
As far as his usually unreliable memory could recall, the climatic events at the end of that year had marked the end of Ginny’s strange behaviour. At the time, Neville had not been surprised. After all, her display of bravery in facing down Riddle and the basilisk must have given her a great deal of confidence, and shown her she was braver than Neville could ever be. She had no reason to be shy anymore. But Hermione seemed to factor the incident in favour of the crush, so how could that be?
Hermione had said that Neville had saved Ginny’s life, although Neville didn’t see it that way. He’d always felt he’d failed in the Chamber, and it had been a blow to his confidence from which he’d not really recovered until the night of the Patronus back in June. But, it now occurred to him, maybe Ginny didn’t see it that way. After all, everyone else had had nothing but praise for his killing of the basilisk, even Dumbledore. They all thought he truly had been a hero. But Ginny was there. Didn’t she know?
His mind turned to Hermione’s “and then there’s Harry” comment. What had she meant by that? From his observations it seemed to him that Harry barely acknowledged Ginny most of the time, and hardly seemed to notice her, considering how much time he spent around her brothers. No matter how he thought about it, the whole riddle only puzzled him all more.
“Oi, Neville. Neville?” A voice broke Neville out of his reverie. It was Harry himself, trying to get his attention.
“Sorry, I was miles away,” he apologised.
“I could see that. We were just discussing who Hermione’s mystery date is. Can’t you give us a hint?”
“Sorry, I’m sworn to secrecy,” Neville answered with a smile.
“Probably no one, and she just doesn’t want to admit it,” was Ron’s quickly voiced opinion. Neville wondered what Ron’s reaction would be when he found out.
* * *
The week between the end of term and the Yule Ball on Christmas Day saw much activity, preparation and excitement. As if on cue, snow had begun to fall, covering the castle and grounds in a thick, white blanket. Neville idly wondered if the atmosphere around Hogwarts was bewitched to ensure snow every Christmas. He certainly didn’t remember it snowing very often in Huddlesby at Christmas when he was younger.
Whilst everyone else played outside in the snow, Neville spent a lot of time in his dormitory, trying to work out how to dance. He was far too embarrassed to ask anyone else to practise with him, so he had taken to using Harry’s broomstick as a stand-in partner. It didn’t really help; he kept tripping up over the brush, but he knew come the ball as a champion he had to open the dancing and he was terrified of making a complete fool of himself. He hoped Ginny at least would know what she was doing.
He did at last manage to talk with Ginny a couple of times during the week, but they discussed nothing more than how they were looking forward to the ball and what they were hoping to get for Christmas. Trying to take Hermione’s advice, Neville did his best to listen to Ginny and take an interest in what she had to say, but he couldn’t see anything unusual or out of the ordinary about their conversations. He was beginning to suspect that Hermione was worrying over nothing.
Christmas morning when it came dawned bright and cold. Ron unsurprisingly was the first one awake in their dormitory and wasted no time in waking the rest. They all opened their presents quickly. Gran, obviously deciding that Neville would be too cold staying at Hogwarts over the winter break, had sent him a whole set of woollen winter wear. Sirius had got Harry some new Quidditch robes. Dean’s uncle had sent him a new football which, as none of the rest of them knew what it was, they proceeded to toss around the room like a Quaffle, causing havoc until Seamus fell over and nearly crushed Trevor’s box with the poor toad still inside. They then decided it was best to wait until they could get outside.
It had stopped snowing the day before, but the heavy snow showed no signs of melting quite yet. Neville joined the rest of the boys playing on the grounds, building snowmen, having snowball duels and hopelessly trying to learn the rules of football from Dean (it didn’t help that the ball kept getting lost in the snow). For Neville, who was used to stuffy, dull family gatherings at Christmas, it was the most fun Christmas he’d ever had.
As the evening drew in, everyone began to get more and more excited or, if they were Neville, more and more nervous. In the dormitory, he had pulled out the navy blue dress robes Gran had sent him and was awkwardly putting them on. They seemed a bit short for him, and he supposed he had finally started growing upwards for once, instead of just sideways. Indeed, the rigours of the Triwizard Tournament seemed to have slimmed him down a bit, although he could still stand to lose a fair bit more weight.
Harry walked past him and patted him on the back. “Very smart, Neville,” he said.
“It itches,” replied Neville, scratching his neck. “I don’t see what’s so special about dress robes. I prefer my normal clothes.”
Harry smiled. “See you in the Great Hall, Neville,” he said, and left. Neville tugged at his collar, shrugged and decided to leave as well. Before going, he slipped his Remembrall into an inside pocket; he never went anywhere without it.
He passed Ron, who was wearing a quite hideous outfit, all frilly and threadbare. “Don’t ask,” said Ron gloomily. “Here Neville, mind you take care of my sister, all right? I’ll be keeping an eye on you.”
“Er, sure,” said Neville, not sure if Ron was being friendly or warning him. “See you later.”
The Gryffindor common room was thronged with stylishly dressed boys and girls, meeting their dates or passing through on their way down to the Entrance Hall. Neville cast around and spotted Ginny sitting quietly in front of the fireplace. She was wearing striking scarlet dress robes which, combined with her long flame-red hair, made for quite an eye-catching look. She smiled as she saw him approach and stood up to greet him. “Nice robes,” she said. “The colour suits you.”
“Same to you,” replied Neville. She had obviously put a lot of effort into getting ready for the evening and Neville wondered if he should say anything. “I like your hair,” he settled on at last. It sounded really dumb and he regretted it as soon as he’d said it.
“Thank you,” was all Ginny said in reply. She took his arm and together they made their way out of the common room and down the staircase to the Entrance Hall. Coming down the broad stone staircase was hardly inconspicuous and several heads turned to look up at them as they arrived. “Are they staring at us?” Ginny whispered to Neville.
“Don’t worry, I get that a lot,” said Neville, though privately he suspected that most of the boys were not looking at him. Now he finally thought about it, he had to admit Ginny was attractive. She certainly stood out in a crowd.
The Entrance Hall and the grounds immediately outside the main doors had been lavishly decorated, and the guests were beginning to flood in, Hogwarts, Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students all together. A sour-faced Severus Snape, still wearing his typical black robes, was stalking through the crowds, ostensibly maintaining discipline and glaring at anyone who even remotely looked like they were having a good time. “I bet he hasn’t got a date,” said Ginny, indicating the lank-haired Potions master.
“Hey, Neville!” called a deep voice from close by. Neville turned, and was surprised to see who it was: none other than Sirius Black, looking debonair and smiling broadly.
Neville and Ginny walked over. “Hello Sirius, I didn’t expect to see you here,” said Neville.
“I’m Professor Burbage’s ‘plus one’,” Sirius explained, nodding towards the Muggle Studies teacher who was talking with Professor Flitwick a few feet away. “Quite an occasion, isn’t it? I wish there had been one in my time. I’m glad I caught you, Neville. I have something for you.” He reached into a pocket of his robes and pulled out a small, stiff envelope. “A, er, friend wanted you have this.”
Neville took the envelope and opened it. There was a card inside, which at first glance appeared to be blank, but as he ran his fingers over it, a picture emerged of a smiling man standing in front of a Christmas tree and next to an enormous grey hippogriff. The inscription inside read simply “Thank you. Merry Christmas.”
Neville quickly put the card away in case anyone was looking. He felt a bit guilty; he had almost forgotten about Remus Lupin in all his troubles. “He looks well,” he told Sirius.
“He is,” Sirius replied simply, and left them to join Professor Burbage on her way into the hall. Neville thought about that summer night six months earlier when so many lives had turned upside down, including his own. It seemed almost half a lifetime ago now.
“What was all that about?” Ginny asked, confused.
“Oh, nothing,” Neville replied. “I think Professor McGonagall wants to talk to us.”
McGonagall, it turned out, was in charge of looking after and directing the champions prior to the start of the ball. She had already gathered together Fleur Delacour, whose date Neville saw was Roger Davies, captain of Ravenclaw’s Quidditch team, and Cedric Diggory, who was with an Asian girl Neville didn’t recognise. “We’re just waiting for Mr Krum,” said McGonagall. Everyone else was making their way into the Great Hall. Eventually, Krum arrived, leading Hermione in through the main doors from the grounds.
It took a moment for Neville to register that it was in fact Hermione, for she had undergone a remarkable transformation. Her usually bushy hair had been straightened and as she walked she seemed taller and more confident. She gave Ginny a hug and they whispered something to each other. Krum merely nodded politely to Neville but, for the first time, Neville noticed a flicker of a smile on his normally taciturn face.
When the time came, McGonagall lined up the four champions and their partners and together they processed into the hall, to loud applause from the assembled students. Neville looked around to see Harry and Ron’s reactions to seeing Hermione. He finally located them sitting together with the other Marauders. Harry’s expression was one of surprised amusement but, to Neville’s surprise, Ron looked furiously angry.
The champions were seated at the top table, along with the three headmasters and the other judges. Ludo Bagman was grinning broadly, Bartemius Crouch was more sullen and subdued. Dumbledore wasted no time in getting the feast started. Everybody talked animatedly as they ate. “Excellent show, Albus,” Preminin was saying in between mouthfuls of well-done steak. “Ven the Tournament comes to Durmstrang, ve shall be hard pressed to match vot you have done here.”
“Oh, I’m sure Durmstrang has many charms of its own that we cannot hope to match, Alexander,” Dumbledore replied modestly. Further down the table, Hermione and Krum began a conversation over the relative merits of the two schools. Neville turned to talk to Ginny.
He realised he’d never had that many real conversations with her and, as they chatted, he found she was fun to talk with. Neville, whose only female friend was Hermione, discovered he could talk with Ginny much more on his own level, whereas the erudite Hermione would often leave him well behind. They discussed the pressures of schoolwork, their home lives and their other friends.
Neville glanced over at the table where the Marauders were sitting. “I don’t think Harry’s having a good time,” he observed. Harry was sitting next to Lavender, who talking and giggling loudly, waving her arms about theatrically. Few were taking any notice of her, and Harry, head down, looked glum.
“Serves him right,” said Ginny firmly. “He should be miserable.” Harry gave a brief wistful look up to the top table, but not to where Neville and Ginny were sitting.
“What do you mean by that?” Neville asked, but before Ginny could reply, Dumbledore rose to his feet and asked everybody to stand. The meal was over, and it was time for the part of the evening Neville had dreaded the most: the first dance. “Can you dance?” he whispered to Ginny.
“Not really,” answered Ginny, as Dumbledore swept the tables aside and introduced the band. “I’m sure we’ll manage somehow.” Nervously, Neville walked out with Ginny and the other three couples on to the dance floor. He could feel hundreds of eyes staring at him as he awkwardly took hold of Ginny. “Not so tight, Neville,” said Ginny. The music started up and they began to dance.
It was quickly obvious to Neville that dancing with a broomstick bore no relation to dancing with a real human being. It was terrible, and it was all he could do to keep from falling over and not tread too many times on Ginny’s toes. There wasn’t really any actual dancing going on. He kept his head down, not daring to look up for fear of seeing everybody laughing at him. When others joined the dancing, he tried to hide in the middle as much as possible and as soon as the song ended, he rushed to sit down at the side of the room.
Ginny sat down next to him. “That was so embarrassing,” Neville moaned. “I’m sorry, Ginny.”
“Don’t be,” Ginny said sympathetically. “Nobody cared. They don’t expect you to waltz across the floor or anything. Half of them a just as bad. So dancing isn’t your thing. Gives us more chance to chat.”
They continued talking happily as the music played and everyone was dancing. Later they were joined by Hermione and Krum. Hermione was having a fantastic time, and Neville discovered that Krum could be quite amiable when he allowed himself to relax for once. He even complimented Neville on his performance in the First Task, which Neville thought was extremely generous of him.
He glanced up to see that the Marauders were out on the dance floor with their partners. Lavender was dancing wildly and Harry was just doing his best not to get flattened by her. Neville noticed that Ron was staring in their direction with a vicious look.
A few minutes later, Harry and Ron, together with Lavender and Parvati, broke away from the dancing and headed over to Neville’s group. Lavender was trying to drag Harry by the hand back on to the dance floor. “Come on Harry, just one more dance,” she was saying.
“If you want keep dancing, I’m not stopping you,” said Harry curtly.
“Fine, I will,” said Lavender, and stormed off.
“Thank God for that,” muttered Harry and sat down next to Neville.
“That wasn’t very polite,” said Ginny.
“She was starting to get on my nerves,” Harry replied. Ginny rolled her eyes and shook her head as if to say “typical”. Harry fell silent, staring out across the hall. Ron was also oddly silent, at least until Headmaster Preminin came over and ushered away Krum, keen to show off his star pupil to some of the other guests.
“Good riddance,” he said, just loud enough to make sure everyone in the group heard him. “What a miserable git.”
“I beg your pardon?” exclaimed Hermione.
“You heard me. He’s an arrogant, surly, stuck-up git. I don’t know why you’d want to be anywhere near him.”
“Don’t you dare talk about Viktor like that!” said Hermione angrily. “He’s perfectly charming, and if you’re too pathetic to see it, that’s your problem. I thought he was your hero, anyway?”
“Yeah, well, that was before I met him,” snapped Ron. He had his arms folded and was slumped in his chair, glowering at everything.
Parvati pulled at his shoulder to get his attention. “Are we going to dance again, or are you just going to sit here and argue all night?” she asked. Ron didn’t reply, but his expression clearly indicated he had chosen the second option. Seeing that, Parvati got up and went to find her sister Padma on the other side of the hall, leaving just the five of them behind.
Ron paid no attention to her leaving. “Anyway,” he continued, “he’s way too old for you. You want to watch it around guys like him.”
“He’s seventeen, Ron,” retorted Hermione. “I’m fifteen now; he’s only two years older than me. You’re just being stupid.”
“I am not! Harry, back me up here, isn’t he too old. Harry?”
Harry, startled to here his name, turned around. “What? What did you say?”
“He’s not listening to you, Ron,” put in Ginny. “He’s too busy staring at Cho Chang over there.” Ginny nodded in the direction of the Asian girl dancing with Cedric Diggory.
Harry reacted defensively. “I am not!”
“Oh, come on Harry. It’s all you’ve done the entire evening. Moping around the whole time, just because she picked Cedric over you. Everyone can see it.”
Harry was stung by the criticism, but seemed even more surprised that it was coming from Ginny. “I haven’t been moping. Besides, it wasn’t that she picked him over me, it was just that he asked first.”
“Yeah, you keep telling yourself that, you might just believe it.”
“Look,” said Harry, facing Ginny directly for the first time, “what’s your problem?”
“Oh, so you have noticed I’m here,” exclaimed Ginny. “What’s my problem? I’m not the one feeling sorry for myself because I was too lazy to get myself a date. I’m not the one who pays no attention to anyone around them. I’m not…”
“Hey, steady on, Ginny, that’s not fair,” interrupted Ron. The atmosphere was beginning to get heated.
“Oh sure, take his side Ron, like you always do,” retorted Ginny. “You know Hermione, you’re right. Boys are all the same. They’re so wrapped up in their own lives, they haven’t the slightest clue about what anybody else is feeling. It’s pathetic.”
“Are you calling me pathetic?” yelled Ron.
All of a sudden, heads were beginning to turn in their direction. What had begun as a short spat between Ron and Hermione had now descended into a full-blown four-way blazing row. Neville slunk down in his seat between the warring parties, feeling as embarrassed as had on the dance floor, as Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny continued to argue loudly, heedless of the attention they were now getting.
At long last, all of them having seemingly exhausted their lungs, Ginny got up and made to storm off. Hermione stood up to join her, but couldn’t resist getting in the last word. “The next time there’s a ball, maybe you’ll both remember to think about somebody other than yourselves for once.” She then turned, and together with Ginny stormed out of the hall.
Harry and Ron watched them go in bewilderment. They looked at each other. “Girls,” they said in unison, and shrugged.
Neville, who finally felt he understood at last, waited a moment before getting up himself and following after the girls. He found them out in the Entrance Hall, sitting on the bottom step of the main staircase. Hermione had her arm around Ginny, who was composed, but looked like she might have been crying. Hermione was still seething with anger. Neville went over to them. “Are you all right?” he asked.
Ginny nodded. “I’ll be fine. Things just got a bit out of hand back there. I’m sorry if I spoilt your evening, Neville.”
“Nonsense,” Neville replied. “I think we had a good time, didn’t we?”
Ginny gave a slight smile. “I think we did. Listen, I’m going to take off. You stay and enjoy the rest of the ball. I’ll see you tomorrow, all right? Good night, Neville. Bye, Hermione.”
Ginny turned and headed off up the stone staircase. Neville watched her go, before turning to Hermione. “So, Ginny and Harry, eh? I think I understand what you meant now.”
“She’ll get over it eventually,” replied Hermione. “It would help if Harry wasn’t so clueless. You know, after all that warning I gave you, you were great tonight. It was the rest of us that were the trouble. Come on, let’s go find somewhere in the hall away from those boys.”
Neville followed Hermione back into the ball. He didn’t say anything, and he didn’t think it would be appropriate to do so, but felt he had learnt something not just about Ginny and Harry in the last few minutes, but about Hermione and Ron as well.
Neville Longbottom and the Goblet of Fire by Sonorus
Chapter Notes: In which Neville attends the Yule Ball, where he unexpectedly finds himself an observer to a flood of jealousy and resentment.