(KAI) Started writing this... a long, long time ago.

On a Battlefield

1

As tightly as he could, Neville shut his eyes. Outside, the dogs railed and howled, scratching against the outer wall. He huddled more tightly in his night-robe. By some twisted convenience, he had left it at the foot of his bed and had been able to grab it when the first fires lit in the higher towers.

Normally, he would have left it on top of the dresser, across the room. His dresser being close to the door... it only made sense. But would he have grabbed it, in that moment when Seamus had gripped his shoulder and the alarms went screaming? No... he'd been hustled so quickly... barely having time to put slippers on. Sitting on the bed for that two seconds: his hand alighted upon the soft flannel.

"God," he whispered, face buried against the fold of his arms. To his left, a first-year leaned against him, one hand clutched in the red fabric as tightly as she could.

"What?" she whispered back, having elected him some time ago to the position of their group's leader. When he looked up, eight young faces were staring at him. Looking to his other side, he saw a boy, the girl's twin, slowly looking up at him with wide, sleepy gray eyes.

He paused. "I was just thinking- about nothing," he amended, catching the mixed looks of hope and terror. "Well, about my housecoat. I'm sorry, my thoughts were wandering."

The girl nodded, "Mine, too."

"I was thinking of Mom's garden," her twin said slowly, rubbing his eyes and leaning heavily against Neville when an explosion rippled above them.

A slow rise of voices met Neville's exhausted ears as the other first years clumped nearer to him and added their thoughts to the ether. He nodded to each one, feeling oddly pleased to be at the center of so much attention. It had happened abruptly; beginning with the twins, and ending with the other six who had added themselves one by one according to whatever friendship or relation drew the last.

"When do you think it will be over?" she asked him, leaning her head on his soft shoulder. Occasionally, screams and shouts could be heard from above, and one section of the dungeon wall had been blasted at, but so far remained unbroken. Neville's heart thudded to think of what would happen if the enemy breached that flimsy protection between the school's students and the outside.

What a question. God. The sixth-year closed his eyes, gripped the fabric of his own robe a little bit more tightly. Over? No.

Neville knew the battle that waged on outside had only just begun. Word had traveled down from the teachers, aurors, and ministry military on the outside to those on the inside- a hodgepodge of the same. And that word had trickled down to the head boy and head girls, and the prefects, whose job it was to maintain the calm and quiet of the hundreds and hundreds of children holed up in the Hogwarts' dungeons. All of Snape's carefully arranged tables and work stations had been shoved and stacked along the chilly stone walls, and they rattled when especially violent attacks were employed above the school. Neville wasn't sure, but he had a terrible feeling that the Death Eaters and dark wizards were gaining the upper hand. He took a deep breath, clasped the girl's cool hand in his own, and said, "It will be over when someone wins. That's all I know."

Sometime in the early morning, between the time the twins had fallen asleep with the other first years, and the time Neville might have fallen asleep himself, a tremor went through the building, and an emergency portkey flashed wildly some meters away from where Neville was hunched. He saw heads turning- some slowly lifting from their places on the ground where they had finally found rest- and his was one of the quiet gasps that followed the new chaos.

Ten of the military hands were shuttling in the wounded, and their voices were loud and efficient.

"What now?" a small voice wafted from the pile that was Neville's adopted group. The sixth-year reached over as he uncurled himself from the wall, and he touched the child's head softly.

"It's nothing, love, just try and sleep through." He made his way up, achy and cold in his bones, and staggered over to the bustle that had resolved itself near the portkey- a nondescript book on Severus' desk. One of the voices he recognized. He shouted, "Harry!"

Harry Potter, all torn and sooty from God-knows, whirled to face him, and met Neville's stagger with a limp of his own, trailing flecks of blood as he went. "Neville, I thought you were on the outside- I thought you-"

"No," the other boy interrupted. "No, I was swept up with most everyone else. I had no idea what was going on. Harry, what is going on?"

Neville's hand clasped onto Harry's shoulder, and the shorter boy gave pause. "We- we came under attack by the Death Eaters around eleven, and their forces haven't let up since. We," he gestured vaguely at the wounded assembled around the area, "are losing more and more of our people. They think-"

A terrible crackling noise filled the dungeon, echoing horribly against the walls and flagstone. Neville winced, but did not relent, "What? What do 'they' think?"

"They think Voldemort-" terrible moans broke through Harry's speech, and he clenched his fists, "They think he's got some kind of dark spell that makes the wizards and witches tied to him almost impervious to damage."

Neville nodded and released his grip as Harry's gaze went somewhat wistful, "It must work through the mark, because Severus has been right on the frontline, just- just going all night, defending us-"

"Potter!" both Harry and Neville jumped at the voice, and turned to meet it with entirely separate expressions. Harry pressed his lips into a fine line, tired but understanding Percy's haste. Neville simply stared, shocked worse than when the Hufflepuff prefects had wandered by, informing everyone of the current school damages.

Percy Weasley looked worse for wear- his dark red hair was falling in his eyes, which were also red, and shot through with strained blood vessels. His glasses were nearly askance, and he reeked of smoke. Neville had never seen him unwound from his clean, presentable countenance, and had in fact not seen him since his brief visit to the school on ministry business. God, he had been handsome. Neville was startled from his stare when Percy blinked sharply at him, and returned his attention to Harry, "They got Oliver, and Ginny. Foxdread, Tonks, Baleroot, and the Goyles, all dead. McGonagall is... gone, too."

Percy looked down, his teeth firm around his upper lip, biting as his hands came up to his own waist helplessly. "But, Snape's got the confirmation- it's all tied in to You-Know-Who. The Death Eaters can't go down unless he does first. Once he dies, that's it."

Harry also hung his head, "I see."

Neville's heart had stuck in his throat and stayed there as soon as Percy had begun to speak- his normally collected voice was strained and raspy, and the fear that the strange voice and its words struck in Neville was overpowering. Oliver and Ginny? The Goyles? These were people he had known... In passing, but somehow known. Good God, Ginny had been nice enough to dance with him-

Percy's dark stare brought him back to the present, along with a high-pitched wail of pain, and the growing cacophony of sound that was those hundreds of students all beginning to panic. "Shit," Percy muttered, and Neville was sure he could not handle any more surprises. He was freezing in his nightclothes and slippers, and just seeing his former housemate in this state was disjointing, to say the least.

And- no, no, if he even tried to focus on what was going on outside, he wouldn't be able to function- it would just be Neville Longbottom, the Boy Who Cried Himself Stupid in a Corner While the Dark Lord Destroyed Everything Everyone Had Ever Known.

The redhead grasped his shoulder much as he had grasped Harry's, and looked him solidly in the eyes. "Neville," he said gently, "I know you must be frightened, but I remember how wonderful you were in Herbology."

Neville nodded, and he saw Harry nodding somewhat along. "Yes, Percy?"

"We could really use your help," he said slowly, the sounds of pain and misery of those wounded turning through the air like dead leaves. Neville nodded.

"I'll do anything I can."

Walking away was the hardest thing Percy had ever done.

The hours of battle and fear had vanished from his mind as soon as the bright light and nausea had faded. Percy hated traveling by portkey, but apparating had quickly proved to be dangerous, and for some, fatal. He could still hear the tortured groan of Sandra Beetle as some Death Eater trash had hexed her into the afterlife. Even that lasting image of his colleague had faded, however, when he saw his former housemate.

Neville Longbottom had not much changed from the last time Percy had seen him; some months ago, huddled at the table in his winter robes, while Percy interviewed the top seventh years, who were looking at their graduations in only a few short months. As it was, even in his housecoat and slippers, Neville was positively wonderful.

If he had had the time to think on it, Percy would have been able to name the feelings that the younger boy stirred in him- some latent affection from when they attended school together, some attraction that had to do with the soft, round lines of his body, some soft, blooming feeling that started in his stomach and filled him with a lasting, peculiar good mood. Of course, Percy had never had the time, and now was quite possibly the worst time to begin reflections. Instead, he savored the moment he was able to touch Neville's shoulders with his tired hands, and held on that moment too long while the young man gathered his wits. The ministry lackey felt as rotten as they came, asking the disheveled Longbottom for help when it was clear Neville was the one in need of rescue. From the faraway, dull worry in his grayish eyes, to the pale, miserable line of his mouth- Percy squeezed his thumbs into the sides of Neville's neck, and tried a weak smile, before drawing Harry away and returning to business.

Before he could brief him, Harry was on Percy's arm, grip strong as iron, "Is Severus all right? I saw him go with Lupin, but I don't know where they went-"

Percy nodded sharply, "They're protecting the escape portkeys that are being set up right now." He glanced around the high-vaulted dungeon as if it would tell him what he wanted to know. "God knows they're fine. But you have a job to do. Before mademoiselle Beetle was struck down, she had pinpointed the Dark Lord's location. Everyone we can spare is going to join you to meet him."

"Draco?"

"Yes." Percy watched that same faraway look creep into Potter's countenance, making him pale and young-looking. There wasn't time for it. Green eyes bore into him, and he shook Harry carefully, "Harry?"

"Yes…" came the answer, after a pause that was as sharp as a knife, "Yes, I know. I'm ready."

"Then I have to return to the portkeys, they're going to need me when the lines open up."

Harry nodded, returned to the book, and left Percy to try and catch a final glimmer of Neville's robed form edging through the wailing crowd.

Neville had learned their names, now: The twins were Griselda and Grayson, the only third year who had attached to him was Iky, and the first years were Aesmi, Milelu, Kurt, Lenore, and Raymond. Milelu had been the one he'd patted before going to the chaos, and the tiny boy was currently helping to feed the giant roll of gauze through Neville's hands and around a terribly wounded Bertram Aubrey. The man hissed in pain, and Neville clucked sympathetically- a sound he had mastered quickly and felt almost no feeling in. "Milelu, not so fast," he followed the command with a quick swipe to his forehead. Things were warming up as the day outside wore on, and as the number of people crammed into the dungeon increased.

Spells flew wildly back and forth in an attempt to keep things ventilated and clear, but Neville's work pace left him little for cooling down, and God, the kids- they were so helpful, but so, so tired-

Neville was exhausted and nearing the place where he would either burn out or become separated from his body. He wasn't sure what would happen, as he had never experienced such sheer, painful tiredness before. Milelu adjusted his glasses in the interim, and nodded without speaking. Iky came up behind him and hugged the younger boy's waist before handing over a stack of aloe and ginseng sheets, which Grayson took without ceremony, before clambering back to help Griselda.

Iky cleared his throat, and Neville glanced at him, trimming Aubrey's dressings. "One of my prefects said that it's not going to be long before the dungeons are broke into. What will we do?"

Neville blinked rapidly, trying to work out several problems at once. He pulled Milelu away from his perch and called out to Aesmi, who tugged Lenore and Kurt from organizing the remainder of Snape's supplies. "Raymond! Raymond Ferncrest!" Neville shouted, and the boy appeared without ado.

Without preamble, the sixth-year said, "There's word from Ravenclaw that we might be attacked down here soon. That our defenses might give out soon."

Iky nodded, pulling Milelu under his arm. The Hufflepuff boy frowned deeply, his freckles stark against the enhanced paleness of his skin. Kurt and Lenore made a similar picture, while the twins went to hang on Neville's coat sleeves. "What will we do?" Raymond breathed, trying to appear to possess Gryffindor's renowned bravery.

Neville shook his head, "I don't know. I only know that we'll probably be herded without portkeys. There haven't been any set up except the one. We might end up anywhere."

Panic and motion swarmed around them as more of the wounded were tended and treated while the small group huddled closer. Aesmi looked close to tears, and Neville said firmly, "Wherever we end up, just... just listen right now." He tried to smile, but it was hard. "Let's stick together. Let's do whatever we have to do to stay together. I know it's not much, but-"

"It's perfect!" Grayson interrupted, Griselda voice following his in an echo. Neville smiled in earnest, his eyes inexplicably watering. "I'm glad we agree. So, until then, whether it comes or not, let's keep working hard, all right?"

"All right," Raymond said quietly, almost below the level of noise. It was difficult to have a group-hug with so many, but they managed, and it wasn't long before the assembly line of work had continued- long, long into the morning and afternoon.