Disclaimer: I own neither Neville Longbottom nor the Harry Potter series.
Author's Note: Written as a prompt from tumblr, the prompt being "Hannah Abbot and Neville Longbottom talk after the war."
Warning: Slightly angsty.
Through This Field
Neville sleeps in the common room. When McGonagall asks why, he just shrugs, says he prefers to sleep near the fire. Lies.
He doesn't sleep in the dorm room because he can't. He can't bear to lay there, heart pulsing and throbbing and incredibly alive against the cold silence of the room, against all those soft rectangular graves that line the walls.
Fifty five, he thinks. Fifty five people died. People who might've laid here. Next to me. Around me. People I passed every day, on the way to breakfast, to Potions, to the bathroom…
He shudders, rolls over in his thick blanket. Tries to sleep.
It doesn't work.
It never does.
Neville stays behind.
"Why?" Professor Sprout asks one morning as they clear the stairwell. So many rocks, so many things buried. A yellow headband peeks out from the rubble. Whose was it? Where were they now? Were they alive or… "Why not go home, Mr. Longbottom? See your family. Tell them you're alive."
He pauses then. He thinks of his family, his parents, balled up at St. Mungo's, as unaware of the outside world as a butterfly in its chrysalis.
"No," he says. "This is my home. I'm staying here."
And that is the end of that.
One day, as they move onto the Great Hall – so much blood here, too much, where have these children all gone? – someone falls into step with him. Bruises the size of plums; busted lip; a patch of missing hair behind her ear. Hannah Abbot has never looked more terrible.
He's no looker himself, though, especially not now, so he says nothing and keeps moving, expecting her to do the same.
To his surprise, she lays her hand on his shoulder – those fingers, so small and still – the weight nothing more than a butterfly kiss.
"Meet me by the lake."
And that's it. A five finger touch and a silent good bye.
He goes.
The walk there hurts. His ribs still burn from where he was kicked mercilessly by a Death Eater and the scars and burns of his left leg give him a jolting limp, but he refuses to let himself stop. Not now. Not ever again.
Hannah is already there, sitting against a tree, looking listlessly out over the water. Neville slowly edges himself onto the ground beside her. They are silent for a long time, and he's wondering if maybe he's supposed to say something when she whips her head around to him and says, quite clearly, "What next."
Her eyes are sharp against her weathered exterior, raking at him for answers he doesn't know. He's just as confused, just as lost in this world current as she is.
"I don't know," he whispers, but Hannah is already standing, whirling around to face him, blonde hair flying out around her.
"We can't just stay here forever, Neville. Soon the castle will be cleaned up and we'll have to leave. There's a whole nother world out there we haven't experienced. A whole nother place I'm going to have to experience without," she chokes up, presses on, "my parents. We've had our entire world destroyed by those monsters. Now that we have it back…what do we do? What do I do?" She turns away.
He stands and goes to her. Without thinking he takes her hand into his own and squeezes. "I don't know, Hannah," he repeats. "But…I know what it's like to be without parents. It's hard, especially right now. Hell, it will always be hard." He laughs weakly; squeezes her hand again, though if it's to comfort her or himself he has no idea. "I'll be here for you. I guess, I guess what we do next is try to get by. Can you do that?"
"I don't know." Is her answer. Her voice sounds thick, and a glance to the right confirms his suspicion; tears roll their way down her face, pale tracks in their wake. "But…I can try. I- I don't know how to do it alone though, Neville. Will you help me?" she looks up, into his eyes. Her eyes still glisten but her tears have stopped. Gone is the fear from her eyes, and in its stead is something stronger: Hope.
At this moment, Hannah Abbott had never looked more beautiful.
"Always, Hannah."