What up guys, I'm back with another random oneshot! But good news! I have found beta in my ACTUAL IRL FRIEND! Who is also called the/ravenclaw/writer on this here site! So check her out if she has anything up yet, and I would be like, life-debted to you for that. Ta. And as a side note. this could be a three part thing, so if anyone wants that, it can be arranged. Anyway, enough waffle form me, allonsy!
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or the Latin language.
Neville Longbottom And The Finer Points of Latin Grammar
As he searched for the right word to describe the green, writhing mass before him (his latest experiment), Neville Longbottom could not stop his eyes falling on this page of his Latin dictionary:
Imperfect Tense:
eram - I was
eras - you (s) were
erat - he/she/it was
eramus - we were
eratis - you (pl) were
erant - they were
As a Herbology professor, Neville knew a lot about the language of Ancient Rome but today, of all days, to see that? Fate truly had it out for him. All the words made him think of was her. Luna.
A year. A year since she shook her head and backed out the door into the pouring rain. And Neville still felt alone. Still felt sad. Still felt hurt.
"It's like," he thought, "the imperfect tense."
"I was too caught up in work, too stressed about my job to care for her. I was too quiet, never saying what was needing to be said, I was too scared of my heart being broke."
Another side of him said something else... "You were rude, selfish, cold, demanding, self-absorbed and ignorant."
Those were her words.
But then again, she wasn't perfect either. She was insane, she was desperate to prove her ideas right and she was preoccupied with keeping her father out of prison. She wasn't understanding, she was just absent and vague. He wasn't to blame for that. He wasn't responsible for her father's actions in the war and all he was wanting was someone to help him with his first year teaching.
It was circumstances' fault, Neville figured. It was the War that drove the wedge between them. It was her dad trying to save her that distracted her. It was work that distracted him. It was joint trauma, nationwide trauma, that shook them apart. It was rebuilding their lives again that demolished them. It certainly wasn't because he was scared of his emotions, or that she was crumbling at the edges. No, it was all the fault of the times, it was their inexperience at matters of the heart and over-qualification in destruction.
"We were good together," Neville thought sadly, "But we weren't going to happen. We were an impossible concept, we were not one, but two. We were never to work, not even in another universe where things were different." Neville's problem was accepting that.
"You two were unsuited for each other, flyway and rooted to the ground, polar opposites. You were both flawed people who weren't in the right position for such ridiculous things as love." Neville wasn't really enjoying his pessimistic inner voices, but there was truth in what they were saying.
Deciding to leave his new plant for that day, Neville packed in his dictionary and dragonhide gloves, Neville had one last thought.
Of Luna and himself, together, alone; now, then; tomorrow, today; at best, at worst, there was one truth.
They were imperfect.
