A/N: In honour of Matt Lewis's beautiful portrayal of Neville in HPDH2 and just Neville as a character in general! Kudos to JK Rowling as everything belongs to her (including the first two line of this which is taken directly from the last book, except one word!)!
Bellatrix was still fighting too, fifty yards away from Voldemort, and like her master she duelled three at once: Hermione, Ginny and Luna, all battling their hardest, but Bellatrix was equal to them, and Neville's attention was diverted as a Killing Curse shot so close to Ginny that she missed death by an inch.
Neville paused in his fight, trying in vain to follow the complicated dance of the three battling women. Frustrated by Yaxley's continual onslaught of spells, distracting him from looking out for his friends, Neville shot a Stunner straight at the Death Eater's chest.
The man fell to the floor; Neville bound him with a flick of his wand as he stepped over his body towards the centre of the room where the four-way duels raged on.
He winced again, not because of the chunk Nagini had wrenched out of his leg at some blurred point in the fighting, not because of the scars marking his body serving as brutal reminders of his inspirational bravery under the Carrows's reign of terror. Neville flinched as a jet of green light raced past Luna's mane of blonde hair, missing her so narrowly.
His walk towards the fight scene turned into a run. His hard indifference to the bloody battle overflowed into an uncontainable rage.
Hermione Granger, Luna Lovegood and Ginny Weasley: three young women whose lives had been taken over by their fight for the triumph of good over evil. Three people who had shown him nothing but love and support. Three girls who were losing that struggle against her.
It came to the crux of the matter as their two faces flashed into the forefront of Neville's mind. Her round smiling face with those wide, trusting eyes, him with his arm across her shoulders and a comfortable grin on his face. And what were they now? Confused and lonely, unable to recognise their own son. Their lives, their soul, their very selves ripped away from them because of that mad crusader, obsessed with a creature barely even human, in an attempt to win his love and approval. In vain.
As Neville raised his right arm almost automatically to point his wand directly at Bellatrix Lestrange his left hand felt in his trouser pocket. His fist closed around the sweet wrapper, crackling so quietly only he could hear it. Because of her, it was the only way his parents would ever look to him with any slight semblance of affection. As he looked at her dark eyes and twisted smile, he knew he would never truly understand why.
His grandmother battling on the opposite side of what remained of the Great Hall swung around just as he opened his mouth to speak two words that he had never before uttered in his life. He wasn't sure if he imagined it but he thought he saw her nod. In his heart, Neville knew this was something he had to do.
"Avada Kedavra."
She looked up to meet his steady gaze as he spoke the last syllable. A lesser man might have enjoyed the look of utter surprise on her face that she had been killed by a Longbottom.
Neville just felt a wave of sadness because although he had finally avenged them, even that could never bring his parents back.
A/N: Hope you enjoyed! Please review, it means so, so much to me!
Elle xo
