This is in the hope that Jo will write more… anything more…

Hope and Hannah Abbott

Neville Longbottom stood at the window, gazing out into the clear, moonlit sky. He leaned his forehead against the cool glass, thinking. Memories flashed across his mind- of Death, of destruction, of curses flying, of evil grimaces, of sweat, of blood, of tears, of sorrow, of terror. Interspersed were rare memories of joy, of sudden surges of hope, of missing heart beats, of butterflies in his stomach, of shy smiles, of embarrassing blushes…

Hope- that Harry, Hermione and Ron would succeed at whatever it was that they were off doing; that they'd survive; that the Snatchers wouldn't get them; that they'd elude Tom and his Death Eaters, that they'd find a way to finish him off for good, to end the darkness.

And Hannah Abbott's brown eyes- determined courageous kind; boiling with anger at the Carrows and their corporal punishment, coming alive with indignation at hearing about their new DADA syllabus.

Hope- that Snape wouldn't Avada the whole lot of them; that he was just keeping up pretences to hoodwink Tom; that the rare and masked moments of compassion, of love, of bravery were reflections of the hero underneath the greasy hair and thin scowl.

And Hannah Abbott's warm smile, that seemed to widen when she saw him, spoke to him, placed a reassuring hand on his arm, looking deep into his eyes, like she could read his soul.

Hope- that the Room of Requirement would remain a secret; that they wouldn't be found out by the new Hogwarts 'administration'; that it would prove a safe haven for all those who were terrorised, disgusted, horrified and sick of the new regime and its ideas; that a repeat of fifth year wouldn't happen.

And Hannah Abbott's long brown hair that she'd gather up in a high ponytail, a messy bun, a simple plait- anything to keep it out of her eyes; the way she's twirl the locks between her fingers as she poured over new patrol routes around the school for the DA.

Hope- (terrified) that his Grandmum was safe; that the Death Eaters hadn't got to her yet to try and squeeze out information from her; that she still managed to visit his Mum and Dad and tell them that he loved him, that he was proud to be their son, that he'd make them proud of him; that she didn't worry herself sick about him; that she was finally sure that he's a true Gryffindor.

And Hannah Abbott's soft, yet commanding voice, the way she helped him gather the student resistance against the Death Eaters, the way she taught the few rebel first years- strict, yet helpful; the way she spoke inspiring calm in all the DA.

Hope- (determined) that all the pain, the sorrow, the fear, the terror, the evil, the destruction, the death would finally, someday soon come to an end, never to darken their lives again; that blood prejudices wouldn't manifest themselves for generations to come; that the world would be peaceful and safe again.

And Hannah Abbott's tears, they fell steadily in a torrent when she thought she was alone; but seeing the hopelessness in her eyes he was all the more determined to put an end to the suffering around.

Hope- that future generations of Muggles and Wizards alike would live in harmony, without wars clouding the horizon, tearing families apart, ruining friendships, shattering relationships, marring childhoods- robbing children of their innocence.

And Hannah Abbott's-

"Neville, dear are you feeling all right? I woke up and you weren't there beside me and I was worried. It isn't the Battle again, is it?" the slim woman asked, coming to stand next to Neville, laying her head on his shoulder and twining her arms around his waist.

Neville turned, smiling slightly and kissed the woman's brown locks. "It's alright, love. Just thinking. I find that letting the memories come is easier than blocking them out. Less painful…"

"Mmm… I'm here if you want to talk, alright? It was a part of our lives, it brought us together, it defined us, it shaped our world. You're right to keep the memories coming" she replied softly.

Neville just nodded, pulling her from his side and pressing her against his chest. The woman raised her brown eyes to look deep into his, and giggled when she saw him blush like he had when she first smiled at him so many years ago.

"I still make you blush?" she asked, smiling lovingly.

"Only you. Always." Neville replied, kissing her softly. The feel of her soft lips against his reminded him of the most powerful thing that sustained him through seventh year- Hannah Abbott's kisses.

She pulled back and rested her head on his chest and murmured, "Neville, you were the reason I lasted through the Battle. I don't know what I would have done without you in my life. I love you"

"I love you too Hannah, I love you too."

The woman pulled back and her eyes glistened with tears, to once again look into his. "You still mean it!"

"Of course I do, which is why I asked you to marry me the day after the Battle. I knew even then that I wanted to love you forever, have you love me forever, live with you, start a family with you, grow old with you. Hannah, you saved my life that year, with your eyes, your smile, your hair, your touches, your kisses, your tears. You saved my life. I did nothing for you and you still fell in love with me. You gave me hope, and hope gave me the courage to ask you to be mine."

Tears flowed freely down Hannah's face. "You never told me that Nev." She captured Neville's hands in her own and kissed them before bringing them to rest on her slightly rounded belly. "Let's call her 'Hope' Neville, that's what brought us out of the war, and brought us together."

"Let's call her Hope" he agreed, his daughter, Hannah's daughter, their daughter- she'd forever be a proof of their love. He kissed his wife once more and chuckled as she struggled to supress a yawn. "Bedtime, love. You need your rest, as does little Hope!"

Hannah laughed and nodded as he swept her off the ground and carried her to bed.

She was asleep by the time he laid her on the bed. He sighed and pushed a stray brown curl away from her soft face. He loved her. He pulled her slippers off her feet and tucked her under the covers.

"Goodnight Hannah, my love and goodnight Hope!" he whispered to the silent room as he lay down next to his wife. He stretched and breathed deeply, realising two things at once—first, that the Battle would always be a part of who he was, defining him, giving his existence a third dimension- that of a hero, of a brave man, of a loyal friend and Gryffindor; and second, that only two things had seen him through his seventh year- hope and Hannah Abbott…

~littlegirlgonemad~

Happy (belated) Birthday to JKR, Neville and Harry!