Author's Note:

I never planned to make this a trilogy. To understand the plot of this piece, you can (you don't have to, but it's strongly suggested) read two other stories first, and in this order:

1. I Hate Everything About You

2. But It's Comfy in the Closet

Our main characters are all 16-year-olds, and this story takes place two weeks after But It's Comfy In the Closet.

Title is by Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky, from The Nutcracker.

The Waltz of Flowers

"Draco, we need to talk."

Malfoy sighed, swallowed and threw the remains of an apple away, "Shoot".

Neville lowered himself on the grass, next to the man-boy he's been dating for the past couple of months. They were sitting in the shadow of a huge oak. They had a free Friday afternoon, and some other students were scattered across the Hogwarts yard, seizing the few precious days of sunny weather before it starts to rain.

"So," he started, but Malfoy cut him off.

"I know where this is going," he attempted a weak smile.

Neville decided it's now or never, "It's just... I feel like you aren't the same guy I fell for. You're obviously avoiding me, we barely see each other. And even when we meet, you're late. Sorry, Neville, I was busy," he tried to mimic Malfoy, but his acting skills were never extraordinary.

"What other business could you have at 1 a.m.?" he laughed.

Malfoy shifted uncomfortably, "Neville, I.."

"Look, it's okay," Neville took in a deep breath, "I kind of, maybe, probably, definitely like someone else."

Malfoy raised his eyebrows, surprise mixed with amusement in his eyes, "Really, who?"

Neville blushed, and sighed with relief, glad that his now-ex-boyfriend wasn't mad at him, "So, we're fine?"

"Of course, mate," Malfoy shot him one of his dashing smiles, "Really, though-who is it?"

"Ooh, I shouldn't have said anything," Neville shook his head, smiling.

"You just broke up with me, that's the least you can do." When Neville shook his head, Draco pouted, "Come on."

Unable to resist those eyes, Neville blurted out, "Ginny."

Draco gasped dramatically and his eyes widened. Confused, Neville glanced at him. What was Draco playing at?

"What's wrong with that?" he asked, suddenly defensive.

"No, nothing," Draco was grinning stupidly, "but I don't recall you showing any interest whatsoever for her. Wait," he stopped to think, "tThere was that time when you went to the Yule Ball with her, right?"

"Yes," Neville sighed, remembering the good old times, "although she only accepted me as a last resort and the whole evening was dreadfully uncomfortable."

Draco clapped his hands excitedly, "Well, are you going to do something about it? I think you should do something about it. Maybe you have a chance with her. I mean, why wouldn't you. You're good looking. You're a great kisser, and mind you, I should know that." He was talking fast and seemed way too excited about the whole thing. Neville looked at him suspiciously.

"Don't you think it's a bit too early? Only two weeks ago, her boyfriend left her for her brother."

The blonde waved his hand dismissively, "I think you should try your luck. If not now, when? You have nothing to lose. Go talk to her."

"What, now?"

Draco opened his mouth to reply but suddenly remembered something and slapped himself on the forehead, "Bloody hell, sorry Neville, got to run. See you later!"

And then, like he only just remembered, Draco added, "I'm sorry I've been a sucky boyfriend."

They hugged for one last time, and Draco dashed off, into the castle. Neville looked at him longingly, allowing himself to remember all the great times they had together. Then he started for the Black Lake. In his mind, he wandered off into a happy place-into Ginny's arms. Even after two years, he still recalled the weight of her petite hands on his neck, while they twirled and swirled on the dance floor. Then he stepped on her foot.

She had been really cool about the whole thing, but he still remembered the look on her face as her eyes followed Harry's silhouette wherever he went. Every glance was another stab into his heart.

And look how that turned out, he thought bitterly, but immediately scolded himself for being rude. It wasn't in his nature to be mean. Look at what I've become because of you.

And then came his little experiment with Draco. It was good while it lasted, but it didn't last long.

He called me "his sweetheart".

He kicked a pebble into the water and raised his head just in time to see a familiar red-head emerging from the castle. Her hair was blowing in the wind. His breath caught in his throat when he realized that she was approaching him.

"Hi."

He mumbled an incomprehensible response.

"A birdie told me you have something to say to me," she smiled lightly at him, "Can I help you with anything?"

How the hell did the word already reach her? She doesn't even talk to Draco! Neville pondered, panicking. Who told her? Should he really tell her? Now? At those rare occasions when Neville and Ginny were alone, they scarcely spoke at all. Or he just let her ramble on about anything that's currently occupying her sweet little head.

Then he remembered Draco-he wasn't afraid to make the first step and approach Neville. And Neville is no less a man than Draco. So what is stopping him from doing, taking what he wants?

In the moment of sudden clarity and enlightenment, the barrier in Neville's mind finally fell down.

"I really like you, Ginny. I've been meaning to tell you this for a while now. I'm sorry it took me so long," he took her hands in his, entwining his fingers with hers. He felt like he could breathe again, like he never really experienced life at all. His senses sharpened and he became aware of all the birds chirping, squirrels jumping, wind blowing and sun shining in Ginny's hazel eyes.

"Ginny, do you want to go out with me?"

Ginny's lower lip quivered. She backed off, pulling her hands from his grip and covering her mouth in an unsuccessful attempt to suppress the laughter.

Neville watched her in awe.

"Oh, Neville," she finally managed to say, "I'm sorry. Your expression... It was so genuine. For a moment there, I thought you were serious." She wiped a tear from her eye, "You are downright silly, Neville."

He smiled faintly, "Ha-ha." He felt his poor fragile heart being ripped to pieces.

"Well, I'll be going now." She lightly kissed him on the cheek, and was gone as fast as she came.

The pieces of his heart were now deep-frying in oil.

Neville let his legs make their own way. He was soon walking towards Hagrid's hut (Herbology and Care for magical creatures were ones of the rare subjects he actually enjoyed). He never had a close relationship with Hagrid like Harry, Ron or Hermione did, but the gamekeeper was always friendly and ready to listen. Neville already saw the orange of the pumpkins in Hagrid's garden, when a sudden rustle woke him from his daze.

He snapped his head to the left, but in the next moment, a car that he instantly recognized-the Weasley's famous flying Ford Anglia that was thought to be lost in the Forbidden Forest-hit him and his mind went black.

Will probably be continued because I'm a sucker for happy endings.