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He watched her from across the common room, his brown eyes taking her in. He had always thought she was one of the most beautiful girls in Gryffindor, but he knew she would never pay him any attention. He wasn't a hero. He wasn't the 'Chosen One'. No, he was just an ordinary seventh year, trying to find something worth living for in these desperate times.
The reports of deaths grew steadily each day, and the raids done by the ministry were rarely successful. The Wizarding world as they knew it seemed to be dissipating more and more. No one could pretend that amount of students attending Hogwarts hadn't dropped rapidly. It was evident.
Even now as he sat in the hard wood chair, his school books strewn about the table. The once joyous and loud Gryffindor common room, was nearly empty, and the only sounds filling the tense air were that of a few students. Harry, Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Lavender, Dean, and Seamus were the only ones who had returned for their seventh year; Ginny her sixth.
And of course, he Neville.
The course that the war was taking had changed him, and he no longer sought approval from any of his peers. He simply didn't care. Why should he? They were all facing a bleak future, and were struggling to find meaning in their lives.
The one thing he wanted more than anything was already taken by someone. His eyes shifted onto the heroic face of Harry, and he couldn't help but scowl. He wanted the one thing Harry had; The one person he wanted.
He had Ginny, and he was pushing her away.
Neville noticed it before anyone. The way he looked at her, and the way he tensed up when she came in the room. He no longer held her hand, or kissed her lightly on the cheek. He knew it wasn't because he didn't love her, it was because of this damned war.
It had taken a toll on everyone, and had affected everyone that he cared for. The realization of the war hit them with the death of Dumbledore. He couldn't even express in words how odd it seemed looking up to the staff table and not seeing him there looking down upon them all. It wasn't right.
Dumbledore was what was holding the war off, the one that had made the possibility of victory seem so real, and without him the Wizarding world seemed to realize they were relying on a seventeen year old boy. The number of times that Harry had escaped Voldemort before no longer mattered. He hadn't yet saved them.
Snapping out of his thoughts with the sound of Ginny's voice, Neville shook his head clear and he looked up into her cinnamon eyes. He could look into her eyes for ever. She was standing there in front of him, her hands fiddling with the hem of her school robes, and she looked to be on the verge of tears. When he looked past her he saw that Harry had gone, and so were Ron and Hermione.
"Ginny," he said, motioning for her to sit, "What's wrong?"
Ginny and Neville had always been close since his fourth year when they attended the Yule Ball together. He had felt a bond with her. One that he knew was sadly limited to friendship.
"Neville," she said, her voice sad, "He doesn't love me anymore."
He wasn't sure what to say. Neville had never been good with words, and he had always fumbled around with feelings, but if it was one thing he did understand, it was when the person you loved didn't return that love.
Neville reached up, gingerly brushing the fallen hair from her eyes. "He loves you," he said, "He is just scared for you Ginny. You can't be mad at him for that. He doesn't want to see you hurt."
"I know," she said, "but he can't deny me this."
"Would you rather cling to a love that may be extinguished if he doesn't defeat V-Voldemort?" he asked, placing his hand atop hers.
"Yes," she said, "There is one thing that Voldemort can't take away from me Neville, and that is the love I have for Harry, and will always have. He is the reason I want to fight, the reason that I breathe and wake every day. He gives me hope."
"And you do the same for him Ginny." Neville felt his heart deflate even more as he had listened to Ginny. She loved him, and because of that he was, and always would be, Neville Longbottom, the friend and nothing more.
"I have to go to him Neville," she said, "They went to fight him. I have to help him. I can help him."
"They went to fight him tonight?" he asked, shock ringing in his voice. "But they were just sitting there."
"The Order flooed." she said. "I'm going."
With a fluid movement Ginny stood, and she looked down at Neville. "You have always been a good friend Neville. Thank you."
The moment her lips touched his cheek, Neville knew he wasn't going to let her go alone. He stood, quickly grabbing his cloak off the back of the chair. "Let's go."
Neville followed Ginny as they exited the common room. He watched her flaming hair dance behind her as she walked, and he smiled sadly. He was always the good friend. And that night, Neville threw himself in front of the Killing Curse to protect the girl he had loved.