The Greenhouse Lovers

"Shh," Neville edged along with his back pressed to the outside wall of the greenhouse. He put a finger to his lips, glancing around warily.

"I am!" Ginny hissed back, giggling. She winced at the crunch as they moved through the fallen leaves, inching nearer to the glass doors.

"Got it," he said, and she saw his hand close on the silver handle. He turned it, and opened the door slowly, until there was barely enough room for the two of them. They slipped inside.

"Now what?" Ginny demanded of the seventh year, reaching out to take his hand in hers.

He jumped out of her arm's reach, and motioned silently for her to follow. He smiled faintly at her, leading her down between tables of various peculiar looking plants, many of which turned towards them as they passed by, as if watching them. Ginny shuddered

"Here we are," he said suddenly, as they came to a small, secluded corner of the greenhouse, cut off by a thick curtain of vines, which he parted, before turning to her expectantly.

"It's... that's very nice, Neville," Ginny said, looking blankly at what appeared to be a rather ordinary bush planted in a patch of rich soil.

"Don't you know what it is?" Neville asked her impatiently, watching the plant with what couldn't be mistaken for anything but awe and adoration.

"No," she said, barely keeping herself from snapping.

The boy sighed as if she had said something terribly dense, and patted his thigh, "Barty! Here, boy!'

Oh no, Ginny thought, he's gone insane.

But, suddenly, the bush seemed to tug its roots out of the ground, and scurry over to Neville, who kneeled down, and stroked it. Ginny stared as a green vine "grew" out of one end, and wagged. She stared even more when a bud appeared at the other end and bloomed into a large, lavender flower.

"This," Neville said proudly, not seeming to care that the knees of his school robes were becoming simply filthy, "is Bartholomew. He is a very rare specimen, and Professor Sprout acquired him just months ago," he paused to look at her warningly, "but I'm not supposed t show him to you, really, so don't tell anybody..."

"Of course not," Ginny said faintly, watching the thing with wide eyes.

"Oh, Merlin, you should see your face," Neville laughed, standing up, and clasping her hands in his.

"Oh, stop it," she said, turning her gaze to him, and smiling.

Suddenly, he sneezed, "Gah, cat hair," he looked at her robes, "you have cat hair on you, Ginny."

"I know."

"I hate cats," he grumbled.

"What!" she glared up at him, pulling her hands away, "You dare, Neville Longbottom, to stand there and tell me you hate cats! Why, you..."

"Stop it, Ginny, don't let's fight," he reached for her again, "they make me sneeze, that's all."

"How can I date somebody who hates cats?"

"You're being silly," he told her, starting to sound annoyed.

Well, fine, I'm glad of it! Let him be annoyed.

"Ginny, listen to me, I- " he stopped, "Oh, bleeding hell, it's Professor Sprout. Quick, hide!"

"No!"

"Damn it, Weasley!" he grabbed her by the arm and yanked her into the shadows, while she struggled.

Professor Sprout was whistling, but she stopped, "Who's there?"

Ginny stopped kicking him, and they both held their breaths.

The dumpy, middle-aged woman shook her head, "Funny, I thought I heard somebody. Must be getting old."

As soon as the woman left, Ginny started fighting Neville's grasp again, but he grabbed her waist and held her tightly, "Ginny, stop it, I'm sorry I said I hate cats, okay? I'm sorry."

"No! I'm still mad at y- " she was cut off as he put a hand over her mouth.

"Now you have to listen. I just - OW!" he glared at her, taking his hand back, "you bit me."

"Damn straight."

"Fine, go! I don't care!" he let go of her.

She didn't move.

Neville suddenly clasped her shoulders with his hands and steered her wordlessly towards the door of the greenhouse and out of it, then turned and walked away, face stony.

At once, Ginny felt guilty, "Wait, Neville! I didn't mean it."

"Oh, didn't you?" he turned angrily.

"You always take everything seriously!"

"Yes, well, maybe some of is don't like being bitten!"

"I'm sorry," she could feel her eyes welling up.

"No, Ginny, don't cry," Neville said, taking her into his arms again and kissing her, "I don't want you to be sad."

She let him kiss her, "So long as you aren't mad..."

"Of course not!" he promised.

They walked back to the castle, hand in hand.