A/N: I had originally intended to write this in alternating POVs, like A Love Like Laughter and In Adoration, but decided not to so I could lengthen this out a bit more. It is from Neville's POV this time, so perhaps the next one I concoct will be from Luna's. Enjoy! DISCLAIMER: Unfortunately, Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood are not my creation, but JK Rowling's. I owe her all the credit.
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Your head tells you to let go and just allow yourself to feel the pain being inflicted upon you as you stand before a group of first years. The Carrows were showing them what happens when orders given were disobeyed. You had outright ignored their instructions and now you felt the consequences. But you can't show them how much you hurt. You can't. You are their only support and their leader. If you show weakness and give in, they will too. So you're forced to stand your ground as you are publicly Crucioed.
With a limp and an erect spine, you hobble back to the Room of Requirement, the one place where you can finally break down and let yourself go. It's late, so your best hope and calculations tell you that your peers and classmates, those loyal to Harry and his cause, are out cold and probably have been for hours. Unfortunately, upon entering the room, you quickly discover you're not the only one still awake.
Luna is awake and had been sitting on the far side of the room, but when she saw you, her usually perky expression quickly vanished and morphed into one of despair at the sight of the wreck you knew you were. She verbally expresses that she is awake because she has been far too worried about you to even imagine falling asleep at a time such as that. This makes you smile, knowing that, at least for a little while, you have been on her mind.
She studies you, pulling you over to her sleep-sack, and gently setting you down on the floor. You wince once as your shirt pulls on an open wound the wrong way. Luna is quite observant and notices your wince, skipping off to grab some extra cloths and a small cauldron. In a matter of a few moments, a liquid concoction is made and you spot steam rising from it. She dips a cloth into the water and lets it soak for a moment as she reaches out to unbutton your shirt.
Your eyes watch her, seeing them grow wider with each button she undoes and you realize that she is just as nervous as you are. Once entirely undone, she slipped it off your shoulders and removed the cloth from the bowl, gingerly placing it onto a wound on your chest. You bite your lip and seethe just once and she smiles at you while caring for your wound. Neither of you says a word as she continues on, tending to each wound on your chest and abdomen before moving to your back.
Without uttering a syllable, she gestures for you to lie down on your stomach so she can properly tend to your back. You oblige to her wishes and she places strips of cloth along the stripes running transverse on your back as though you had been flogged.
Finally, she speaks.
"You really shouldn't defy them anymore," she says lightly.
You are shocked at her words, though, silently, you know she is right. "Someone has to do it. They can't be allowed to get away with their 'punishments'. It isn't punishment—it is torture and I won't stand for it." You can't see her, but you can tell that she has nodded.
"Doesn't mean you have to be Harry's understudy," she wisely states, pressing the cloths into your wounds gently before placing both of her palms against your skin. "We all worry, Neville, and I worry more than most." You can hear the despair in her tone—this is the first time you have ever seen her strong disposition falter even in the slightest. "Don't go out there again, please. I…" She paused and you couldn't see her. Just then, sparks shot down your spine as you felt something warm and slightly wet against your back, and that's when you figured it out. She had placed her lips between your shoulder blades, and now you felt like sobbing, but you didn't. Instead, you sat up quickly, startling her for a moment as she withdrew from you. You weren't going to let her get away that easily, so you took hold of her, pulling her to you and embracing her tightly.
It took her a moment before she hugged you in return, her arms wrapping tightly around your neck. You weave your fingers through her beautiful, wavy locks and place a loving kiss on her neck. She is so warm and soft against you, malleable enough for her body to form to yours.
When you pull away, your hands remain on the sides of her face and you drench your eyes in the sight of her. "You are the reason I stand up to them, Luna," you tell her gently as she closes her eyes. "You are the drive I have to be Harry's understudy. I know I'm not him and I never will be, but I sure as hell can fight the good fight without him."
She opens those big, blue eyes that you adore and stares at you for a moment before nestling her face against your neck. "Just hold me," she pleads. "Hold me like it's the last time." You nod once, kissing the top of her forehead as you once more hold her tightly. Your arms encase her and a soft sigh rumbles in the back of her throat, her own way of letting you know that this is where she belongs. And you smile, knowing that you, as well, are right where you should be: fighting out the good fight with her at your side—or, better yet, in your arms.
