Neville Longbottom was used to taking discipline from Crabbe and Goyle. He was not, however, used to Malfoy jumping to his defence.

"You turned soft ever since you slimed your way out of killing Dumbledore," Crabbe sneered.

"Crabbe! I won't stand by and watch him die, not like this, not here!"

"Then don't look!"

There was a fire raging within Neville that gave him the strength to keep eye-contact with Draco Malfoy and wonder what his game was, even with the force being used upon him. The tip of Crabbe's wand was pressing further and further into his wind pipe, but he never blinked, not once, not even when Malfoy rounded on Goyle as a last resort.

Neville knew that he would have not moved even if his wrists and ankles had not been bound with chains. He refused to give Crabbe the gratification that he was ready to pass out. He was going to stare at Malfoy's back for the next ten years before he so much as even shuddered and cried uncle.

Finally, finally, Draco slipped, but when he caved and looked at the friend of Harry Potter with a mixture of hopelessness and fear, it was her eyes came to the front of Neville's mind. The sudden drop in his shoulders was so significant that it didn't go unnoticed, and that there was a peculiar air of serenity about him that was surprising given the circumstances.

"Don't give up, Neville," she said. Her eyes were blazing with the determination that was aroused every time somebody doubted her about Dirigible Plums and the Crumple-Horned Snorkack.

There was only so much you could take, day after day, but when you had somebody to keep your feet on the ground and heal you and pick you up and be everything a friend could be, all the shit you took in the end was worth it because you had that somebody to fight for. Neville had that somebody. Neville had Luna. Ginny had Harry. Harry had Ginny and Ron and Hermione. He probably hadn't acknowledged it, but Harry had Neville fighting his corner, too.

"Come back to Earth, Longbottom!" Crabbe jerked Neville's head up with his wand, so much so that he was now faced with the view of the dark ceiling of the dungeon. But anything, he concluded, was better than having Crabbe's flat nose in his face.

Vincent Crabbe's fist collided hard with Neville's jaw, and he fell lifelessly off the chair. "Or maybe not. Earth is full. Full with scum like you."

"You're a witty one, Crabbe. How long did it take you to come up with that?"

Neville paid hard for his retort, but he did not scream as the chair was thrown on top of him thrice over and still did not break. He did not shout as he felt another rib shatter instead of the chair. He did not cry as the Leg-Locker Curse was put on him for good measure. Neville Longbottom more or less asked for more. He had done since day one, ever since he had stepped onto the train in September.

"Why are you smiling?" Crabbe was becoming increasingly annoyed, and Neville hoped that the gorilla had hurt his toe from the kick he had just aimed at the side of the chair. "You can stand up to Carrow and Snape but not me?"

When Neville did not answer Crabbe shouted, "Crucio!"

But the pain did not come. Draco, out of nowhere, had thrown himself at Crabbe. It seemed that all the anger and frustration and fear for everything he stood for was being pounded senseless into Crabbe. Unfortunately, Crabbe appeared to feel nothing from skinny Draco Malfoy.

"I told you, I won't stand-by-and-watch-him-die!" The words rang through the dungeon with every punch.

"It's okay," Neville managed in a distant, distracted voice that Luna would have been proud of. "There's only so much pure blood even Crabbe is willing to waste. He'll be done soon."

He vaguely noted that Goyle had finally had the idea to wipe the smug look of his face and jump away from the door he was leaning against to restrain Draco. Neville wondered what he was so bothered about that he was ready to jump to a Gryffindor's defence for – especially a Gryffindor he had tormented relentlessly for nearly nigh on seven years straight.

"Get him out of here," Crabbe said to Goyle. "Now. This one's going the same way as his parents." He was pointing at Neville's broken body.

I won't, I won't, I won't.

Neville closed his eyes and Luna's radiance came floating back to him, leading him to his happy place. After the last three successful attempts at the Cruciatus Curse, he found that he'd bitten down on his bottom lip so hard in a struggle not to cry out that he was bleeding profusely and the side of his head was throbbing. His legs were still bound, as were his ankles, and his wrists. The chains were cutting into him again, and the Leg-Locker Curse was not helping.

As soon he acknowledged that he had a splitting headache, the pain of his shoulders hit him, and yet still, he made no sound.

"Crucio! Crucio! Crucio!" The pain subsided only to give Crabbe enough time to aim another kick in his groin."Know who you are, Longbottom! Crucio!"

Luna. Luna. Luna. Every burst of "Crucio!" and unheard jinxes came as packaged deal with Luna. Then Ginny. He thought of her courage as she stood by his side and led the DA through hardship, red hair flaming behind her as she refused to let people see the pain she was going through while she waited dutifully for her Chosen One. Then Harry came with everything that was Harry, and then Ron and Hermione.

"Crucio!" Mum. Dad. He would not go down like his parents, not today, but he couldn't deny that he would be damn proud if he did.

Gran. Uncle Algy. The DA. Hagrid.

Neville Longbottom always came back to Luna.

Sometime later or maybe in no time at all, Neville slipped into the oncoming darkness, and with the surrender came the relief that he would not feel a thing when Crabbe attacked his unconscious form. He'd made it. He would see his friends again. He would live another day to see their faces. Dumbledore's Army, defending their world one step at a time, together again.

With little effort, Neville slipped into the darkness.

Now, many of you won't agree with Malfoy being 'soft', but it is my belief that he just got tired. He got tired of all the fighting and being forced to take a side that he just wanted it all to end for his family. Imagine: Voldy is intruding in your mansion and using it as HQ, inviting deranged werewolves that want to eat you into your living room, and invading basically everything you own and your family name stands for. Your father has no wand, your mother is sick and scared, and your family's reputation is demolished. You'd want things safe for your family, too, whether you were a Slytherin or not. You'd want to be respected all over again.

If you want one exhibit, gladly turn to Chapter 23 of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. Draco could have easily given up Harry – he knew behind that Stinging Jinx Harry was there, yet he did nothing. He was as scared as his mother. Different, I think, than it would have been if we were discussing Year 5.

But that is my belief.

Disclaimer: I wish, and you wish, but this is J.K's world, not mine. I'm just messing with it.