chapter one: solitude
Light shimmered through the wide window, glittering down on the pixie-like face of Natalie Longbottom. Her short, spiked dark brown hair caught the light and seemed now a caramel colour, rather than its usual dark chocolate hue. As the sun rays slid slowly over her features, Natalie opened her eyes to reveal a pair of shining blue-green orbs, drooping slightly with sleep. She groaned as the sun attempted to prod her awake with its light.
Natalie raised her arms above her head, yawning as she stretched her sore limbs.
"Natalie, dear!"
Natalie shut her eyes, sighing heavily. Across the room, her door creaked open, revealing a mop of slightly curling brown hair whose shade matched her own. She smiled wearily, scooting to where she was sitting up on her elbows.
"Hey Nev," she murmured, her soft voice barely reaching her brother's ears. But the ears of Neville Longbottom were trained to hear his older sister's soft tone, so he smiled in return, opening the door farther so he could fill the door frame. "Hey Nat," he greeted kindly. Natalie couldn't stop the smile from spreading wider across her face.
That was her baby brother; ever so sweet and gentle.
"Gran's calling," he continued bluntly, a slight glimmer catching in his eyes. Natalie giggled softly, shaking her head. "I couldn't tell," she joked, voice still quiet.
Neville felt slight pang of sadness squeeze his chest at hearing his sister's prominent speech impediment. Ever since their parents had been tortured when the Longbottom children were young, Natalie could not bring herself to speak above a subtle murmur. Neville himself, having not witnessed any part of the attack like his sister had, gained no such impediment, only a strong urge for vengeance.
"What's going through that head of yours, Nev?" Natalie asked her younger brother gently, eyes soft and welcoming-just as Neville vaguely recalled his mother's being. A lump formed in his throat, and Neville looked away before his tears could pool over his lower eyelids.
"Nothing," he croaked, turning back to his sister, barely in control of his emotions. "I'll leave you to get ready then." Without a backwards glance, he hurried away before Natalie could utter a single soft-spoken syllable.
In the hallway right before the stairs leading to the kitchen, Neville leaned against the wall, hands covering his face as slow tears made their way down his face. The memory of his mother smiling down at him played behind his closed eyes...his father throwing him up in the air, making Neville squeal...Natalie teetering around the living room giggling as their father chased her around the furniture... their mother and father dancing in the kitchen while the children clapped delightedly, twirling and laughing as the cookies cooled on top of the oven...the family all in the same bed during a midnight thunderstorm, Alice Longbottom's hands on her son's hair as she whispered comforting words to the two children...
Memory after memory of Neville's parents flooded into his head, making him bite his lip in order to suppress a wet sob. This always happened when he looked at his sister too long; she held a close resemblance to both her parents. Natalie possessed the bodily frame and face of their mother-small and thin with pixie-like features. Her eye color was that of their father, with a slight shine that both of their parents had in their own. Natalie's smile was her father's, her kindness was both of theirs, her laugh was their mother's-so many attributes that reminded Neville of their dead parents, and it hurt him every moment.
Inside her room, Natalie continued staring at the doorway, a slight weight pressing onto her chest. She knew that Neville hated looking at her-sadly, Natalie had gained most of the attributes that her parents had, while Neville was only a vague outline of their mad-driven parents.
There was no fixing this issue, and going after him would only make it worse, but Natalie slipped out of her room to see Neville crying silently in the hall before the stairs. She padded toward him with her bare feet and slid her arms around her brother's neck, pressing her cheek to his shaking shoulder. He grasped one of her hands with his, clinging to her like a life line. They were close, because of the accident-close enough to where they could practically read one another's minds. Natalie could feel the pain and loneliness radiating off her brother, evident almost always but even more so at this moment, with the memory of their parents stuck to his mind like an overly persistent leech.
"They'd be proud of you, Neville," she whispered to him gently. "I know they would. You've grown up so much."
Neville snorted, unable to meet her eyes out of pure, raw shame.
"They would be proud of you," he corrected. "You're the smartest person in your year, you've nearly single-handedly raised me, you're funny, sweet, hands-down the prettiest girl in the whole school...You've achieved everything, Nat, but I've achieved nothing..They'd be proud of you, not me."
Natalie was shaking her head by the end of her brother's short speech.
"Neville, I know them," she whispered. "They would be just as proud of you, probably even more so. That's because you're everything that they were: you're kind and loving and generous and brave. So what you're not the best in your year? There's so much more to a person-to the world really-than the knowledge in the classroom. They would be just as proud of you, for everything you've done in your life and everything you will do, because they loved you so much, Neville, they really did."
Neville looked at her through teary eyes. "You really think so?" he murmured. Natalie gave her little brother a weak smile, pressing a hand to his face and stroking away his tears with her thumb. "I know so, Nev," she responded surely.
The two smiled at one another, a brother and sister bonded closer than any other, with the pain they have endured along with the love they share.
"NEVILLE! NATALIE!"
The Longbottom siblings winced together at the sound of their grandmother's voice.
"You think we should go?" Neville asked nervously, his nervous eyes trained on his sister.
Natalie stared at him carefully, gaze calm and collected.
"Well," she replied slowly, dropping her head onto her brother's shoulder and shutting her eyes. "She can't really hurt her two grandchildren that witnessed the torture of their parents, now can she?"
She felt rather than saw Neville chuckle as his strong arm came around her shoulders.
"No she can't," he whispered back.