Sleeping Dogs Lie

It was Neville that lifted the head of the fallen Bellatrix Lestrange. He had a furrowed, far-off look in his eye as her matted black hair bunched between his fists. Her eyes were wide and opaque, afraid now of death, that which she had doled out so quickly and fervently. No one was watching him. He could have done whatever he wanted to that woman, she who tortured his parents into madness without remorse. Neville Longbottom looked straight into the dead eyes of that Death Eater, eyebrows knotted in deep thought.

Then, raising one hand from his side, he moved it to her face and closed those wide-open eyelids. He sighed audibly from the effort of the gesture, and nearly bit his lower lip raw. A light touch on his shoulder signaled that his solitude was broken. The boy glanced up to see a curtain of blond hair hanging into the bright eyes of Luna Lovegood. She smiled encouragingly. Neville silently hoped that the blood on her robes was not hers. He turned back to face the still, lifeless body of Bellatrix Lestrange, and an aching sigh left him.

"I thought of so many things to do when I met her again," he admitted, not rising from his knees. He sagged like a beaten doll. "What I'd say. I thought..."

"Revenge," Luna mused, dropping to her knees beside him with ease. Her spacey eyes met his in a strangely endearing way. "Completely understandable, Neville. A lot of people wanted her dead. You probably wanted her dead most, though." She released his shoulder, looking at Bellatrix and cocking her head. "She's very pretty."

"I was thinking," Neville said at last, standing and helping Luna to her feet as he surveyed the room. "The Death Eaters. They deserve... y'know... A proper burial." He dusted off his hands, as if they still had blood on them. "I don't reckon they'd do the same for us, but--"

"What separates man from beast is how we treat our dead," she finished, looking distant and vacant. She squeezed his hand comfortingly. "I think I'll go tell Professor Flitwick."

"And I'll get McGonagall," Neville said quickly, a ghost of a smirk coming to his lips. Luna nodded, a grin curling on her lips, and she bobbed off toward the tiny Charms teacher.

Neville looked again down on the woman who had killed Sirius Black, tortured Alice and Frank Longbottom, and who-knew how many others. His molars ground against each other as he simply imagined her cackling face. But he leaned down carefully, pulled her nearly weightless body across his shoulders, and adjusted her weight as he stood completely.

What separated man and beast. He wasn't a monster, like Fenrir Greyback, like Bellatrix Lestrange. He was going to bury these Death Eaters, whether they liked it or not. He grimaced at a pain in his shoulder, and began his trudge to Professor McGonagall.

The Forbidden Forest was the site of the burial. Once Harry had recovered from his battle with Voldemort and had his time alone with his thoughts, he'd led them to the Death Eaters' camp in Aragog's abandoned home. Whatever forces had been left had run through and cleared out, judging by the mess. A few large spiders scuttled out of sight. Fires lit around the freshly covered graves danced in the breeze. It was crisp, fresh, promising.

Neville was kneeling beside the grave of Bellatrix. She lay between Dolohov and an unnamed man whose mask had been magically welded to his face. Neville had been the leader of this expedition and he hadn't even known it, not even when the semi-circle of friends sat and watched as he battled with his inner turmoil. He dug a filthy hand into his eye as he stood. The tried-and-true DA stood beside him--Hermione with her head cradled against Ron's shoulder; Harry holding Ginny's hand tightly, almost unnervingly so; Luna directly beside him, staring with searching eyes at the dirt he'd collected on his hands.

"I hate you," Neville spat finally, staring down at the grave at his feet. He looked about at the mounds of earth. "But here we are. You and me. Lestrange and Longbottom again." He took a shaky breath, and Hermione flinched as if she felt his pain. "You don't deserve it. None of you do. But that's what makes us different. We look out for what's not ours." He didn't want to show his pain, but his arm involuntarily reached up to his cheek to wipe at something he didn't want everyone else to see.

"Neville--" Harry tried to say something.

"I'm not done!" Neville protested. He glared straight down at the grave, as if she was grinning maliciously back up at him. "Bellatrix Lestrange tortured my mother and father. I hate her. And I buried her. I carried her here and I buried her. Because... 'Cause maybe someone loved her, and I'd want someone to bury my folks if they died like this." He dug the heel of his hand into his eye, trying so hard. "I wanted to kill her," he said with a breaking voice at last, "but I knew I couldn't. I'm not a Death Eater. I'm Neville Longbottom. I'm a Gryffindor. And I'm a bloody good human being."

He caught his bottom lip again, just as Luna linked her arm carefully in his. She raised her wand in her free hand, and a burst of bright silver sparks issued from the tip of her new wand.

"Nunc et in hora mortis nostrae," she muttered as the sparks fell to the earth and disappeared into nothingness. "Well-spoken, Neville."

"Thanks," he murmured in return, eyes still locked on the spot of Bellatrix's final resting place. He turned his back suddenly, facing the rest of the DA, and all others who had gathered near. Harry nodded knowingly. Ginny smiled encouragingly. Hermione's eyes were full of tears. Ron was blanched, but his eyes were steady. They were all still with him. Finally, Neville's features broke, and as the smile curled over his lips, the tears fell.

"Let's get back," he said finally.

Surrounded by the warm bodies of his dearest friends, he didn't once feel the urge to turn back and glower at the woman who had caused him so much pain.