We'll Be Together

Neville exhaled, his nose wrinkling slightly as he entered St Mungo's Hospital through the main entrance. The bizarre smell of death and misery stung him, and it was clear by the hustling of many around him that more had come in since the end of the war, yesterday.

It was funny because it seemed only last week that Neville had broken his arm following that first flying lesson with Madame Hooch. And now? Now he wasn't really sure how to think of his professors anymore.

On one hand he had Professor McGonagall bidding he and Seamus to destroy something - and not just any something, but the castle itself!

On the other hand, he had Professor Snape, who it seemed only too recently that he had been hoping to poison Trevor with some awful concoction of Neville's during those pain-staking potions lessons. It was Snape he struggled with the most. Well, he and Professor Lupin. Lupin, of course, being the first professor to see Neville for somebody with a brain rather than simply the dunce of the class - even now, four years later, Neville was still grateful for the lesson with Lupin. It had, as he looks at it retrospectively, been the start of his confidence. But Snape?

How was he to feel about a professor he hated, and who hated him? Neville had gone to Harry almost immediately after the end of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named (because no matter what Hermione said, Neville was still cautious of the name) to find out what reason he had for telling Voldemort that Snape had not been on his side. There had never been a silence such as that in Neville's mind.

So, of course, Neville had got the briefing on why Snape had been as he was...but he still struggled with knowing where to put the professor. He hadn't been nice to Neville, ever. In fact, he had gone out his way to be anything but. And now he was dead, so Neville could never ask that all important question; Why?

"Are you struggling with that door?"

Neville turned suddenly, dropping the Witch Weekly magazine in his hands. As he collected it, his eyes remained on the nurse in front of him. She was clearly a nurse, but beyond that he didn't really recognise her.

"Erm, I was daydreaming. Sorry," he replied hurriedly, opening the door to a cool draught from the window beside the bed at the far end of the room. Neville was quite certain the room had been expanded since he had last visited, but since that had been a few months ago he couldn't be sure.

Still, the first two beds on the left still hosted his mother and father - both of whom appeared to have their eyes closed as peacefully as they always had been.

"Mum, dad," Neville began, and his heart swelled as it occurred to him that there was no longer anything going on in the world to keep him from visiting them whenever he wanted. But he wasn't sure if that was a good idea or not. Not yet, anyway. There were others to be lain to rest before he made that decision.

"I've been meaning to visit for a while but there's been a lot going on. I mean..." He glanced around him before whispering, "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is gone. And that...well, that is something that isn't done overnight. It's just a shame you weren't there to see it happen after everything you had done with the Order all those years back. But...I did something. Something good...something useful. For the first time, people are actually recognising me for doing something helpful instead of being the one to mess things up."

Neville continued, with a light smile on his face. His eyes glistened with tears as he told the tale of the Battle of Hogwarts to his parents, who remained ever the same.

"And afterwards I spoke to Harry. Did you know about Snape? He's...well. I don't know what to think."

Neville sighed.

"I still don't know how to make sense of everything, but Gran was there - your mum. She is just as strong as she ever was, but it was nice for it to be directed at someone other than me for a change," he went on with a soft chuckle.

It was then that he remembered the magazine in his possession, and he pulled it from under his arm before flicking to page seven.

"Oh, Witch Weekly put a photo in of the original Order. And the supposed new one, but it isn't really necessary anymore. You haven't aged much, you know, but then...I suppose not many in this picture have," he said, quieter as he stared at the picture of his parents waving at him. A stray team dripped from his cheek, though he hadn't realised he was crying. Wiping his eyes, he took a moment to look at the rest of the picture. Why was Harry t- "Oh!" He said aloud, "That's James. And then Harry's mum must be...you." He said to the photo, before looking back at both his parents, and then at Harry's parents. Beside them stood Sirius. Sirius, who Neville had fought alongside, but still knew little of. And Lupin. Of course.

"I have a lot to thank you for, Professor. And mum, dad. James and Lily too-"

As Neville's attention lay on the photo, he hadn't noticed the sudden movement in the bed before him.

"Lily!" A dry-throated woman's voice shouted. It rung in Neville's ears as he looked up.

Were his eyes deceiving him? He must have fallen asleep; dreaming. There was no way his mother could have just sat bolt upright in her bed.

"Mum-" Neville tried to speak, but couldn't.

Then his mother's eyes fell on him, though they lacked recognition.

"You, boy, get out of here," she instructed him, not unkindly; she was seeing, but...not really seeing him. "You need to warn Lily and James Potter. Dumbledore will be able to find them; they're in danger. Voldemort knows something about their child, he knows where to find them."

It was as his mother spoke, as though he wasn't there - in 1998 - he started shaking his head.

"Mum, stop. I...it's me, Neville. V-V- He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is dead. James and Lily's son survived the attack - they...they were attacked. You've been here for...years. Nearly two decades. But...the Order survived the first war. And the second, to an extent. But...mum. It's me."

It was clear to Neville that his words took a little while to sink in, as his mother stared vacantly at him, worry written into every line of her face.

"Neville?" He nodded, "But...you were just a baby."

Neville blushed, shaking his head slightly, before closing Witch Weekly and pointing to the front; the date.

"1998..." his mother said quietly, before saying, "What happened? I...I remember the door coming in. It was dark, I'd been going to bed and Frank was in the kitchen. I don't know what happened, but there was suddenly light everywhere - bright, painful light - and then this pain...everywhere. I could hear his cries and screams, and then he was silent but I could still feel it. I could feel it everywhere, no matter hp what I did and what I said it hurt... They were firing questions about my son - you - and then..."

Neville's mother stopped talking. Her son - as he certainly looked like him, just...aged - had tears falling continuously from his eyes as he listened to what she was saying, and it suddenly dawned on her.

"Where is Frank? Is he with you?"

Neville shook his head instantly, looking to where his father lay.

Alice turned to her right to see her husband sprawled beneath the hospital sheet just as she had been a moment earlier.

"Frank?" She turned to Neville, "Is he okay?"

"He's comatose," a new voice said, and Neville turned to see his gran coming up behind him.

"Gran! She's okay!" Neville cried again.

"I thought it was a possibility; Voldemort is dead, so his deeds - and that of his unholy followers may have been undone, but... I never truly imagined... Alice, darling."

And Neville's gran enveloped her daughter-in-law into a hug.

"You haven't half given an old lady her dues," she said into Alice's shoulder.

Neville, on the other hand, had gone to take her father's hand in his, murmuring softly, "Dad...I know you're in there somewhere. There's...there's a lot to tell you, but...for now you rest and get better. You will do, and then..."

Neville took a shaky breath.

"Then we'll be a family again."