Disclaimer: I don't own anything Harry Potter related.
Inheritance
"Harry!"
As he descended from his third visit to the headmaster's office that evening, Harry Potter, the man who had been the Boy Who Lived, heard his name called. This was nothing unusual: all that time after the final battle, and Harry had gotten very few moments of peace. This voice that called him belonged to a stumbling figure heading up the hall. Neville Longbottom, the man who could've been the Boy Who Lived, stopped short before his old friend. Harry felt a grin come upon his face. The ragged, worn, beaten, burnt Neville's eyes were shining, with tears or joy, or both. "You were fantastic, Harry! I can't believe we did it, huh?"
"Me?" Harry laughed emptily. "Neville, you were so…" The words escaped him. Neville's already red face turned slightly redder, awkwardly pulling at the singed ends of his hair. "So, um… You wanted something?"
Neville shifted his weight, pulling on hand from behind his back. Clenched in his sweaty and bloodied hand was the sword of Gryffindor. Awkwardly, he held it out before him. The blood of Voldemort's snake still clung to the beautiful blade."Umm… Hermione told me… He left it to you, right?" He looked up expectantly, and it took Harry a moment to realize what he meant.
"Oh. Dumbledore? Yeah, I guess he did…" An uncomfortable silence followed these words.
"So, um… You gonna take it?" Neville finally spoke, urging the other boy to take the sword. With an "Oh! Um, I guess…" laid his hand on the hilt, drawing it from Neville's hand and into his own.
Beneath the blood, the sword still shone even in the dim lighting. And in its reflective surface, Harry found something. Perhaps it wasn't the sword; perhaps it wasn't Harry, but the look in Neville's eyes that brought on the thoughts.
Was the truly the boy who had lost his toad on the first day? Was Harry really the child who Hagrid had taken to the school? They had both changed so much. All of them- not just the two of them. A sudden rush of affection for them all coursed through his veins.
He smiled faintly, and slowly lowered the hilt into Neville's hand, closing the other boy's no longer chubby fingers around the cool metal. "There's something the Minister had right," Harry mused with a hollow laugh. "It was never his to give," Harry's eyes rose to meet Neville's, "Keep it."
Neville looked from the sword in his hand to Harry and back again. "Harry, I can't take…"
"Neville." Harry interrupted. "Keep it." Neville turned the sword over his hand, and slowly pulled at the end of his robe, dragging it along the sword until all the blood was gone from its perfect shine.
"…Thanks, Harry," Neville said finally, smiling at the other boy. Slowly, he began to walk away.
"Neville!" Harry called. The idea had struck him at Neville's retreating back. Neville turned. "When I first… Dumbledore told me," He skipped the story, his eyes flying to the Headmaster's door, "Only a true Gryffindor could've pulled that sword out of the hat."
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A/N: I'm not so happy with the ending, but, whatever. Review please, and constructive critiques.