Genre – General/Angst
Format – 3rd person personal
Couplings – Implied Neville/Hermione, unrequited
Warnings – implied sex, bad language, cynicism, character death
Summary – Neville ponders all the things he's never been good at
Useless
Neville was never very good at… well, anything really.
He was never very good at being a wizard.
When he'd bounced down the driveway at home and his family leaped for joy Neville felt ashamed that he hadn't been able to do that naturally, like the Weasley children, or Laura Jones from next door. After believing for a few days that Neville was just a late developer and soon a cascading avalanche of magical powers would pour out from this temporary set-back, there was general realisation amongst his family that Neville's body wasn't hiding incredible powers, he just didn't have any real magical gift, and would never be the wizard his father was, or so his Grandmother said to his Uncle when Neville was eleven and just ready to start at Hogwarts, in the kitchen when she thought he couldn't hear. And even though he set out to prove himself under Dumbledore he never really did, the only thing he could sort-of-be-alright-at was Herbology, and that was only because it involved very little actual magic.
He was never very good at making friends.
He knew the others didn't exactly ignore him, and they certainly didn't hate him, but he was the odd one out. Harry and Ron, Seamus and Dean, Neville and… He had to pair with Hermione in lessontime, which he didn't mind so much as she scraped him through his OWLs but still, when they left the classroom and he'd turn to smile at her and start off a conversation about how much homework Professor McGonagall had given them, she'd give him an affirmative 'mm' and run off to be with Harry and Ron who'd be waiting for her. Like real friends. Anyway, Harry, Ron, Seamus, Dean or even Hermione didn't stop the smirks and sniggers as he walked past people in the corridors, alone and usually with a colour changing 'kick me, I'm a squib!' left on his back by Peeves or Malfoy
He was never very good at getting a date.
He knew that Ginny Weasley had only gone to the Yule Ball with him because Harry hadn't asked her, and because she desperately wanted to go, not because she liked him or anything. And when he asked out Hermione and she went red and looked at the floor and painstakingly told him that she had a boyfriend, whilst sneaking an embarrassed glance at Harry, Neville knew that even if she hadn't been making love to the Boy-Who-Lived she would have made up another excuse about timetables and homework and saving the world. Neville just assumed he'd end up sad and bitter like Professor Snape, just less scary. Or in fact, good at potions.
He was never even very good at standing up for himself.
When Snape bullied him or Malfoy laughed at him or Slytherins tripped him up on the stairs he never said anything, just took it all to heart whilst pretending it washed over him. Even when he found out Harry and Hermione were dating, and he desperately wanted to write 'the Boy-Who-Fucks' on Harry's headboard, he didn't, because he knew he didn't have it in him, and he could still have a chance with Hermione, right? And she still told Snape to back off him because he couldn't do it himself, and she still told Malfoy to get lost and give him his quills back and sew up his bag, and she still glared at Ron when he'd have a sarcastic snigger about Neville behind his back, even though Neville wished he were doing all of this for her, and not the other way around.
So as Malfoy pushed him to the floor in front of a ring of Death Eaters, alone as always and fighting for a side who didn't really care about him, and Malfoy pointed his wand at him, smirking in that familiar way as he muttered 'Avada Kedavra' languidly, because Neville wasn't really worth shouting it, as he cried like a child and begged for mercy, and knew he would have betrayed anybody, even Hermione, to make the pain stop, Neville wasn't really surprised that he couldn't even die properly either.
Fin