Neville ran his hand over his robes once more. They were still in place and wrinkle-free. Hermione had told him he looked fine, but he figured it wouldn't hurt to make sure. After all, they said every little bit helped.

Hermione had announced at breakfast that she was going to help him make things right with the redhead. She'd wasted no time setting a plan into action. "It's simple, really," she'd told him as they'd gathered their books and headed off for their first class of the day. "The two of you just need to sit down together and talk this out."

It did sound simple, but Neville wasn't sure he could tell Ginny how he felt without mucking it up. Still, he was willing to try if it meant getting Ginny to talk to him again. So he followed Hermione later that night and wondered vaguely where she was taking him. It wasn't until they'd left the castle and were halfway across the lawns before Neville realized where they were going. "Why are we going to the greenhouses?"

"I told Ginny to meet me there."

"Won't she think that odd?"

Hermione shrugged. "Not necessarily."

"All right," Neville conceded. "But why…"

"Nev," Hermione interrupted firmly, "I chose the greenhouse as a meeting place because I thought you'd feel comfortable there."

"Oh." Frowning sheepishly, Neville ducked his head and ran his hand over his hair. "Right. Sorry."

Hermione stopped just short of Greenhouse Three and looked at Neville, an apologetic smile on her face. "No, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you. I'm just a little nervous." She must have noticed his bewildered expression because she blushed and waved her hand as if dismissing her statement. "You're nervous, I'm sure. I'm…sorry."

Neville nodded and pointed toward the greenhouse. "Is she in here?"

"She should be," Hermione answered.

With a deep breath and a sharp nod, Neville squared his shoulders and entered the glass building.

"It's about time you…showed…up." Ginny gaped at the sight of him, confirming his assumption that Hermione hadn't told her he'd be the one meeting her. The blush and hasty glance away told him that she probably wouldn't have come had she known.

"Hi." Charming, Neville, he chided himself. Positively charming.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, glancing over his shoulder as if hoping to see someone else.

Neville followed her gaze and was surprised to see Hermione standing outside, her back to the glass as if she were standing guard. Realizing he was on his own, he turned back to Ginny. "We need to talk."

Her eyes snapped to his face. "I thought you made yourself perfectly clear," she said, her voice a mixture of coldness and hurt.

It stung him that she'd interpreted his disbelief as disinterest. Seeing the wounded pride and vulnerability in her pretty, brown eyes was much worse. "You're wrong," he said softly, edging toward her as if she were a particularly volatile creature, which wasn't too far from the truth. "I couldn't have 'made myself perfectly clear' because I didn't say anything."

"Yes, you did," she countered, her attention now focused solely on him. "You basically said the only reason we're ever go out together would be to shop for other people. When I said it would be a date, you looked at me as if I'd said something utterly ridiculous!" Ginny folded her arms and glared at him. "You're not interested. I don't know how you could be clearer than that."

He came to a stop in front of her. He considered touching her but decided she wasn't ready for that. "You surprised me, Gin. I never thought you'd like me enough to want to go on a date with me. That's why I asked those questions. That's why I didn't say anything when you said it would be a date."

Ginny shook her head, a stubborn expression on her face. "But you've been avoiding me."

"No, you've been avoiding me," Neville gently corrected. "I've been trying to figure out how to fix things with you without looking like a complete prat." Smiling awkwardly, he continued, "It doesn't seem to be going well."

Ginny stared at him, her brown eyes huge and unsure as if she'd been Stupefied. Neville waited, hoping Ginny would say something, anything, even if that something was that she'd changed her mind and thought they'd be better off as just friends. When the silence stretched past surprised to uncomfortable, he shoved his hands in his pockets. Fidgeting surely wouldn't help the situation. He'd just decided to cut his losses when Ginny took a step toward him. "Are you saying, then," she began slowly, "that the idea of being my date to Hogsmeade doesn't repulse you?"

"Being with you could never repulse me."

"And if I told you I'd like to spend more time with you," she said as she took another step, "as more than friends, you'd be all right with that?"

It was the perfect opening. Determined not to blow his second chance, Neville stepped toward Ginny, closing the distance between them, and took one of her hands in his. "I'd much rather you told me you want to be my girlfriend, but I'll settle for more than friends."

She gave a startled laugh before slipping her arms around his waist. "I'd like very much to be your girlfriend, Neville Longbottom."

Neville grinned and rested his forehead against hers. "That's great to hear."

--------------------------------------------------

Hermione waited until she was certain Ginny and Neville had made up before heading back toward the castle and the common room. She hoped the boys were still there. They desperately needed to talk.

Ever since her birthday party, things had been strained among them. Both Harry and Ron were unusually tentative and solicitous around her. A part of her wanted to put it off as weirdness. After all, the bottle had pointed at her for both of them and kissing your best friend was always a bit discomforting. But that didn't explain the growing coldness between Harry and Ron. With the war escalating, the last thing they needed was dissension among the ranks.

As she climbed the various stairways to Gryffindor Tower, Hermione paused to examine her own feelings. There had always been…something between her and Ron. Something beneath the bickering and the silent treatments and hurt feelings that made Hermione wonder what a romance with the redhead would be like.

Harry, on the other hand, was much easier to get along with when he wasn't gong through some stressed-out, adolescent, moody, hormonal stage. He wasn't nearly as funny as Ron though, in his own way, just as volatile. The thing was Harry made her want to take care of him. He was so reckless (not that Ron helped; always egging Harry on) and, at the same time, so damaged. Headstrong and vulnerable. For all of her resilience, she didn't know if she could be in a romantic relationship with Harry.

Of course, she could just be flattering herself. Whatever was going on between Harry and Ron might not have anything to do with her at all. It wasn't inconceivable; they didn't tell her everything. But she doubted it. Her execution may not always be spot-on, but her instincts were pretty good.

Distractedly, she gave the Fat Lady the password and climbed through the portrait hole. Her boys were waiting for her in the usual spot: the overstuffed armchairs in front of the fireplace. The chair between them was empty and they weren't speaking or looking at each other. In fact, Hermione was positive the middle chair was empty due more to the chilly atmosphere between Harry and Ron than to any effort made to save it for her. She certainly didn't want to sit near the two of them. However, she had no choice. She was the one who'd called a meeting.

"Hey," she said quietly, settling into her seat. The boys mumbled back, casting furtive glances at her and each other. Usually, she'd try to handle the situation with a little delicacy, but something about their skittishness grated on her. "What's going on with you two?" she demanded.

"Nothing," Harry grumbled while Ron asked, "What are you on about?" with a perplexed expression on his face.

Hermione sighed inwardly. She had hoped they'd simply tell her what their problem was; however, that was clearly not going to happen. In keeping with the direct approach she'd adopted, she said, "You've both been acting strange since my birthday party. And don't say you're not," she admonished when they opened their mouths. "Just tell me the truth."

After a long silence, in which the boys stared bewilderedly at her, Harry ventured, "Do you, er, like either of us in a more than…platonic way?"

So it was what she'd thought. She clasped one of Harry's hands and one of Ron's. "I love you both very much," she began slowly, "but don't you think it would be in our best interests not to complicate things?"

More silence followed and Hermione was sure all hell was going to break loose once they began to speak.

Finally, Ron said, "You couldn't just say you aren't interested?"

"Yeah," Harry chimed in, cutting off Hermione's reply. "This isn't the time to be reasonable, Hermione."

"What are you two talking about?" she demanded, thoroughly confused.

"You love us…" Ron began.

"As friends…" Harry continued.

"But nothing more…"

"Expect for maybe as brothers," Harry finished with a grimace.

"I do not think of you as brothers," Hermione said hotly, not entirely sure why she was so upset. "You're both very attractive and fanciable. But I'm not going to choose one of you when we're in the middle of a war. After all, it's quite clear that we're stronger when we're getting along than when we're divided. And you," she snatched her hand out of Harry's grasp and jabbed him in the chest, "are going to need all the support you can get. So the both of you are simply going to have to put any romantic feelings you have for me on the shelf until this whole mess is over. Do you understand me?"

She glared at both boys and they gaped back. Slowly, they nodded.

"Good." Standing, Hermione primly smoothed her skirt and before facing her closest friends. She let her face gradually relax into a fond, intimate smile before saying, "I'll do the same." With that, she turned and went up to the girls' dormitory. Voldemort couldn't be defeated soon enough.