If you were to have gone in the greenhouses to find Neville over the past 4 days, you would’ve found a wreck. Ever since he and Ginny parted outside the Three Broomsticks on Friday night, he’d been in the greenhouses behind his home. He couldn’t really eat, he couldn’t sleep for his mind worked overtime to keep him awake, the only thing distracting him from being alone was his plants. George had known to stay away, though, he did poke his head in now and again to leave a cup of tea... for which Neville was greatly appreciative.
Though every now and then, he’d have to stop and sit from being dizzy and he thought about what he’d told Ginny outside the pub. That he loved her. Why he chose that moment - he had his reasons, but it wasn’t a good moment obviously. She pulled away from him and became even more edgy and agitated. He couldn’t for the life of him figure out why though? Would loving me be so bad? Neville berated himself over and over for thinking that very thought. It drove him to working even harder and his hands were nearly split open and bleeding from thorns and burs his fingers were green from trimming.
Finally he’d seated himself in the bathroom and healed his hands (as much as he could anyway) wrapping them and wincing when a cut would open underneath the gauze. He ran his bandaged hands over his face and thought about her again. When was the last time she’d been so nervous, so distant? He could hardly blame her though, being faced with the thought that she may be pregnant, and having it blurted out in front of her family and friends. No matter how much his genes protested with his want for a child, there was no way ... no way he’d put a child through the war when both of its parents would be fighting, constantly. And he knew Ginny had been thinking the same thing, and possibly a huge bit of why she was so upset.
He had tried to comfort her, mentioning not to get worried until a test was done.... but then he’d gone and buggered it up, trying to tell her that he was there. Neville thought back, way back as he walked to his bedroom, littered with some of her sweaters. He picked one up and laid down, holding the soft fabric in his hand while he thought, his head pounding from the effort.
When he was able, Neville focused on their year at Hogwarts, when Harry had gone off with Hermione and Ron. Ginny never really showed it because she was strong that way, but there were times when Neville happened upon her in the common room late at night when he’d see the look on her face - the same look she gave him outside the Three Broomsticks. That was the time when she loved Harry and he had left.
Neville sat up in realization, his mouth hanging open. He knew now why Ginny closed herself off when he said that he loved her. All at once he both wanted to see her and give her space to see the truth for herself. Because if Neville ‘clueless’ Longbottom could see it, why couldn’t she?
Anxiously, he moved about the room, picking up her sweaters and arranging them neatly in her drawer, a pair of trainers he’d nearly tripped over at least ten times, and a pair of her pyjamas. This wasn’t the end... not if he had a say in it. He would show her.
And as if on cue, there was a tapping at his door. It was Toby, delivering an owl and upon reading it, he was off like a shot, having hastily dressed after his shower and healing.
His heart was in his throat as he approached her door for many reasons; relief, wondering what would happen... from running, many things. He knocked lightly and said it was him.