Luck was never really something that was on his side.
He tried to stay as optimistic as he could, but sometimes, he was just miserably unlucky.
Neville felt sick. Six years and a new teacher later and he still couldn't make a proper potion to save his life. Slughorn was much more helpful than Snape ever was, and in his own defense, he'd actually improved, but not noticeably. To anyone else, he was just ever so slightly less apt to melt his cauldron. Bless Hermione, helping him as often as she could granted that they were at the same workdesk, but his admiration tended to fall elsewhere.
Elspeth Halloway.
Ellie was a pretty, petite little Gryffindor of the same year. She had bright blue eyes and beautiful brown curls that framed her sweet cheeks and draped themselves over her shoulders, straight bangs barring over her pale, white forehead, grazing long eyelashes. She was the star potions student, her talents even surpassing Hermione's. He'd been friends with her since they were first years. She was always kind to him and protected him. She protected him like a teenage girl protects their kid brother.
But that wasn't what Neville wanted. He didn't want to be the sympathetic, weak, brother-figure to Ellie. He wanted to be the one that she could lean on, the one that protected her. He wanted to be everything to her. Neville had always loved Ellie; he'd realized it when she stood up to Snape for him. He could vividly remember her saying, "shove off!" and "he doesn't deserve the way you treat him!"
She was promptly sent to McGonagall, who merely administered an extremely light punishment of an apologetic letter to Snape.
Neville couldn't help but remember this every time he walked into potions class on days like today.
He sat down at his workdesk next to Hermione. She stared at her book, almost as if hoping that every word in the text would somehow fly off the pages and into her head. Slughorn had prewarned the students that he planned on administering another little competition, stating that whoever could successfully brew a batch of the Draught Of Peace would win a prize. As usual, Neville was unprepared to cook, but prepared to fail. The Draught Of Peace was very difficult. The ingredients have to be added in a very certain order, the mixture has to be stirred exactly the right number of times and the heat of the flames on which it is simmering has to be lowered to exactly the right level for the right number of minutes before the final ingredient is added. He knew he couldn't make this potion, but he knew Ellie could. He remembered a month earlier, Slughorn had assigned them to make a batch of Amortentia, and Ellie's was perfect. Slughorn then proceeded to carry the cauldron around the classroom, asking each student what they smelled in order to prove her proficiency. Neville had barely muttered something that sounded like cinnamon (what Ellie smelled like) and licorice wands (her favourite treat), and he recalled Ellie saying she smelled the lush aroma of a bloomed garden and a hint of smoke.
He didn't quite understand it.
But as class progressed, his heart started to hurt even more. He absently stirred the cauldron as he peered up to watch Ellie. He watched her lips as she counted every stir, and she kept peering to her watch. She suddenly placed down the ladle, scurrying over to the ingredients cabinet, giving Parvati Patil a playful bump to the hip. The two girls giggled, and Neville looked down at his cauldron. It wasn't even simmering. He heard Hermione let out a frustrated grumble, seeing her run her hands through her hair, grabbing two fistfuls and groaning again. Ellie returned to her cauldron, carefully prepping the next ingredient.
He couldn't quite explain it, but she made potions beautiful.
Ellie ended up winning, which didn't really seem to be a surprise to everyone. And to make sure that the potion was perfect, Slughorn served a dose to the emotionally stressed Hermione, who quickly calmed down. Satisfied with the reaction, Slughorn presented upon Ellie a small flask of Felix Felicis.
Neville stared at the flask that she held between her finger, the gold potion gleaming. He was jealous. He wondered what would happen if he'd come upon one of his own. He wondered what it would be like, just for an hour or so, to have all the luck in the world. To, for once, not be bullied, to be able to pass Snape's classes, or if he would be able to tell Ellie how he felt.
He gathered his things as class ended, wanting to leave as quickly as possible. He was afraid that the heat flushing to his face was hot enough to make all the cauldrons boil.
"Neville!" Ellie called on the staircase, catching up to him. He turned around quickly, seeing her scurry to him, her curls waving along. He noticed the vial hanging from a gold chain around her neck. He quickly looked away, straining away the red flush.
"O-oh, hi, Ellie…" he stuttered, trying to avert his eyes.
"Are you okay, Nev? You haven't spoken to me all day…"
"Y-yeah! I'm fine… congrats on winning," he said as she stood next to him as the staircase moved.
"Oh…" she said under her breath. "Yeah, thanks…"
"What are you going to use the potion for?" he asked immediately, still thinking about all the 'what ifs'. Ellie paused, tucking hair behind her ear.
"I don't know…" she said softly. "I… I actually don't really think I need it."
Neville tilted his head at her as the staircase hit the landing. "Wh-what do you-"
"Why don't you have it?" she offered.
"Wh-what?"
"I'm pretty okay with things right now," she said, smiling at him as she pulled the gold chain from around her neck. "Besides, a little luck never hurt anyone." She grabbed his hand gently at the wrist, holding it open. Neville blushed at the contact, feeling the cool metal hit his hot palm as she dropped it in his hand. She closed his hand, holding his hand with both of hers.
"Th-thanks," he said, smiling weakly.
"Good luck."