FAIRYTALE
Years ago, when I was younger ,
I kind of liked a boy I knew.
He was mine and we were sweethearts.
That was then, but then it's true.
Neville Longbottom was lying in his bed, in the flat he occupied the last few years. If he looked at them, he would be able to see that his ancestors' paintings were not happy listening to the muggle computer, playing the same song over and over again for the past days; the winning song at the Eurovision song contest. But Neville wasn't. He couldn't care less about his ancestors.
The asstray on top of his belly was full of finished cigarettes. He moved onto his side, rolled another and lit it.
I'm in love with a fairytale
even though it hurts.
'Cause I don't care if I loose my mind
I'm already cursed.
Cursed. Yes, that was the word. The Norwegian singer had it right. Neville stared at the ceiling but wasn't looking at it. He was looking at a boy. Slightly younger than him and way more beautiful. A boy with hope, dreams, ambition. A winner. It was this quality that made Neville fall in love with him in the first place.
Everyday we started fighting
every night we fell in love.
No one else could make me sadder,
but no one else could lift me high above.
He had loved him immediately, from the first time he saw him, sitting in the Great Hall. The boy seemed to had loved him too. He said he did, at least, and Neville believed him. They had a good time together. They talked of their dreams, their hopes, their needs. The boy's needs never involved Neville, and Neville knew it. Oh, he would sometimes say they did, just to make Neville feel better, but, well, he was no Ravenclaw but could put two and two together. Still, he hoped.
Oh, had they a great time. Neville almost laughed reminiscing a particular instance. They were by the lake, sitting on a bench. They were sharing a bar of chocolate, talking and laughing, claiming, in all honesty, to be one another's oxygen. They boy, his boy, acted impulsively and wrote on the wrapper For being the sweetest part of my life and given it to him.
I don't know what I was doing
but suddenly we fell apart.
Nowadays I cannot find him
but when I do we'll get a brand new start.
And then Hogwarts ended. The boy left, like he had said he would. He had never lied, never. He was honest from the first day to the last. But Neville couldn't live without him. And then his grandmother died. First the boy, then Augusta. Neville was left alone, abandoned.
Helpless.
Hopeless.
Gradually, he retreated from life. He got estranged from his friends, he quit his studies on Herbology, he quit his hobbies. He even stopped visiting the greenhouses in their family mansion. He didn't get a job, not being able to put any will to it. His money were over. He had to sell the mansion and move to a small flat.
He was grieving.
Oh, the healers in St. Mungo's tried to help. He went there every week, on Tuesdays. Because it was Tuesday when he last saw him, it was Tuesday when he last talked to his grandmother. But it was no good. Nothing could help.
I'm in love with a fairytale
even though it hurts.
'Cause I don't care if I loose my mind
I'm already cursed.
The cigarette was over. He sighed. There were only two things he could do now. Both required equal strength. Both consisted of a decision and two words. The first set of words would be 'Avada Kedavra', wand pointing at this forehead. The other needed to be owled.
He could do the former, he really could. It was no lack of courage that made him follow the latter solution, he was a Griffindor after all. There was a reason the Sorting Hat had given him of all people Godric's sword. But a war is different than life.
It was hope, once again. He did hope his would still love him. And he knew that if he only saw his face smiling to him again, he would be able to fix everything.
The chocolate wrapper was still in his desk drawer. Time after time during those seven excruciatingly painful years he had decided to throw it away, but never could. For being the sweetest part of my life.
He took a muggle pen and wrote two words in it. Then attached the paper in his owl's leg and send it its way. Looking at the owl as it fled, he took a deep breath and spoke the words aloud.
"Save me."
He's a fairytale
even though it hurts.
'Cause I don't care if I loose my mind
I'm already cursed.
Two days passed. Two long, miserable days, full of pain and despair. Full of hope and love. It was Tuesday again. The owl returned, carrying an envelope. Neville was glad. His boy, his man, had replied. He had decided. Neville would execute the decision, one way or another. But he would do it properly.
He took a shower and washed himself carefully. He put on his best clothes and combed his hair nicely. He tied his shoes, took his wand and sat on the armchair.
Then, and only then, did he open the envelope.
A smile formed in his face. A brand new chocolate bar was there. There was an inscription on the wrapper in his boy's handwritting.
"We'll eat it together, as soon as you're here."
Neville's smile turned to a grin. He needn't die, after all. Instead, he would be reborn, like a phoenix.
Using his wand, he gently tapped the chocolate bar. The portkey turned blue. A minute later, Neville disappeared, his face a sea of happiness.
THE END.
A/N: All right, so I wanted to write an one-shot. I was in the proper mood anyway. I hope you like it. Dedicated to Crazy4Moony, who listened to my rambling a few weeks ago. :-)