Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction set in the Harry Potter universe – all recognisable characters and settings are the property of J. K. Rowling and her associates. No copyright infringement is intended. No profit is made from this work. Please observe your local laws with regards to the age-limit and content of this work
Author's Notes: A thousand thanks to my emergency beta hazycrazy on LiveJournal.
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Throughout the school year and the summer, Neville would fall under what he called 'The Woes'. When this happened, he would draw into himself, becoming quite lonely and more than a bit sad, if not depressed, in the process. His usual trials for cheering himself up (for his grandmother frowned on Neville relying on others for his own happiness) produced no results. When this occurred, Neville would become even more upset.
He was now in his fifth year at Hogwarts and found himself becoming tired of the daily grind of being a student. The black ink, uncomfortable seating for those long classes and being made fun of (be it behind his back or while he was in the room) were starting to strain him.
It was a Thursday when he realized that things were starting to change. Well, not really things, but rather one thing. While hastily filling out the essay for his History class, Neville realized that his ink had changed from black to pink in mid-sentence. He picked up his quill, shook it off the side of his desk, dipped it back into the inkwell and continued to write. Now it was orange. Biting his lip, he continued on with the exam. Having only that inkwell with him, he could not replace it with a more normal ink color. Professor Binns called for the papers and Neville had a fleeting moment to not turn it in. He handed it over anyway, his face turning red as he saw the wide variety of colors that was now his essay.
Confused over what had just happened and also a bit weary for any other surprises, Neville filled his plate with food and was relieved when nothing else happened that day.
Or that week. Indeed, it was three weeks later that he opened the curtains around his bed and made his way to the dungeons for Potions class, late.
His usual bench in the back of the room was empty as always and as he sat down he realized that it was soft. Poking it, he cast a weary glance at Professor Snape who merely glared back as he droned on about the potion they were making.
Neville saved the color-changing inkwell for his class notes, labeling the little pot accordingly. As for the cushion, he now felt somewhat comfortable in a place that he often had nightmares about (although only Trevor knew of this) and felt that he could even stand up against Snape's remarks and glares.
"I'm very sorry about your class schedule, Neville."
Luna was watching him as he dug in a hole for a flower he was planting.
"What?"
"Well, I couldn't change that. I could fix the benches and the black ink though."
Neville stopped what he was doing; spade in hand as he stared at her. "You did all that, Luna?"
"Of course. I get quite tired of the routine of things and figured you would too. Did it help any?"
"Y-yes. But, why?"
Luna shrugged. "It's very simple, Neville. You just have to take as much care of yourself as you do your plants."
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Author's Notes: Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed it!