A gloriously warm spring had spread across England and Neville was once again watching the weather through a window. The hospital ward was warm and the more lucid patients were building up energy as if they were absorbing the sunlight. Gilderoy Lockhart particularly seemed in a higher than usual mood and was showing it by running around the ward and showing his improved autographs to everyone in the room.
"Yeah, looks great," said Neville for the third time that afternoon as Lockhart once again shoved the signed photo beneath his nose.
"Of course it does," said Lockhart, smiling in that showy way of his that made Neville sure he was most suited to be a model in catalogues. "See how I've got those little flourishes on the ends? I've only just learned to do that last week. Looks quite smashing, doesn't it?" Before Neville could answer, he had laughed and hurried to show the photograph to the nurse who'd just entered.
Sighing and rolling his eyes, Neville turned back to the two beds he was sitting in between. On his left was the blank-faced man staring vacantly at the ceiling, and on his right was the round-faced woman whose expression was one of childish curiosity and innocence. She was folding and unfolding a scrap of parchment in her lap as though it was the most interesting thing in the world. Neither of them was paying much heed to their visitor but Neville was well used to it by now. He came to St. Mungo's every other Sunday to see his parents and even though he knew they weren't listening to anything he was saying, he would talk to them about everything that came to mind.
"Ginny is really showing now," he said, still looking out of the window. "It's another boy, like Jamie. They haven't been able to decide what to name him yet though. And Rose is getting so big; she's two months now. I saw them all last week over the Easter holiday; there was a big Sunday brunch at the Burrow. It's amazing how many people they can cram into that yard. The place is huge, but there are so many people it's starting to become a bit tight. Those Weasley kids have any more and they'll have to expand the yard.
"It's fun though, being with all those people. You both would've enjoyed it, they're all so kind and unexpected things seem to happen every few minutes. Mostly George's little twins to blame for that, but Teddy sure has a streak for trouble too. It's always a laugh to turn around and find he's changed his appearance in the last few seconds."
Neville sank into quiet laughter and he saw his mother looking up at him out of the corner of his eye. She was regarding him with interest and when he looked back at her she smiled before turning back to her parchment. He had given up hope of her recognizing him by now; after more than twenty years it was hard to think that things would ever go back to normal. Still that didn't stop his heart from jumping slightly whenever it seemed like she was studying his face very seriously. He wanted to think that maybe she was looking for the clues as to who her visitor was, trying to place where she knew him from.
There were also times when it seemed like she knew what he was saying. Maybe she was only reading his tone, but when he talked about things that were happy she would smile, occasionally even giggle, and when he talked about sad things she would pout. He had even seen her get a slight scowl on when he was talking about something that had made him angry before. She never really responded, but he liked to think that maybe she understood just a little of what he was telling her. It made him feel better to think that his mother wasn't completely removed from her son's life, even if she didn't know he was her child.
However it was times like today when he was really wishing she could grasp at what he was saying. He had come here today prepared to tell them something very important, something that he felt he couldn't actually do until he had informed them, as little good as it did. It had been put off so far because he wanted to say it at one of those points when his mother seemed to be paying attention to him, if only for the sake of his own belief.
"Work is getting crazier with the end of term coming up," said Neville, sighing and pulling a hand through his hair fretfully. "I never realized how much went into being Head of House or I wouldn't have taken the job. McGonagall says I'm doing fine, but I'm always afraid I'm going to bungle something. Every time I say so, Hannah just tells me I'm being silly and then bakes sweets for me. I swear it, if she keeps it up I'll be as round as Horace Slughorn by Christmastime."
Neville nearly laughed as his mother looked up, a curious light in her eye. He should have known that would be the way to get her attention. For reasons unknown, although they all supported his theory of Alice understanding at least some of what he said, nearly every time he said Hannah's name his mother would start to pay attention. She seemed to have completely forgotten about the parchment in her lap and her eyes were focused on him with a brightness that they rarely ever held.
"Still, I can't help but be grateful for her," he continued, taking advantage of the moment. "If it weren't for her I think I may have already told McGonagall I couldn't keep doing the position. It's amazing how much she believes in me, you know? And whenever she does, it makes me believe in myself too. I'm so much stronger then I was as a kid, I know that, but being with her makes me feel as strong and brave and determined as I did during the battle at Hogwarts. Like I have something worth fighting for again. I actually feel like I could be that hero everyone keeps saying I am. I don't know how she does it, but it's bloody brilliant."
He stopped for a second and Alice tilted her head slightly, eyes round, as though she were begging him to continue. Neville smiled and leaned forward in his chair, placing his elbows on his knees. "Mum, Dad," he said and he thought he may have seen his father's eyes flick to him and then back to the ceiling. Alice simply continued to stare with youthful interest. "I'm gonna ask Hannah to marry me."
The reaction was not quite like what he'd gotten when he'd first confessed this desire to Ginny on Easter. Ginny had given a rather high-pitched squeal that had attracted them a lot of attention Neville had been trying to avoid, and then swept him into a crushing hug. She was almost teary-eyed when she finally let him go, although this he attributed to her hormones because Ginny Potter didn't just start crying willy-nilly.
Frank simply blinked. Alice had gotten a rather dazed smile on her face and then turned her attention to a loose string in the sleeve of her nightgown. Neville sighed, not having expected much more than that, and stood up. It was nearing suppertime now and he needed to get back to the castle before his absence at another meal was noted by the increasingly smug Slughorn. Neville couldn't bring himself to tell the Potions professor that half of his disappearances from the castle were to visit his parents instead of his 'lady friend,' not wanting to have to endure listening to the elderly man waffle on about his parents; dealing with the constant far-from-subtle jokes about his romance was bad enough.
"I have to go," he said to his parents wearily. "I still have a stack of essays in my office I need to have ready to hand back in the next few days." He approached his father's bedside and bent to kiss him on the cheek, and then did the same to his mother. Grabbing his jacket off the back of his chair, he straightened up to find Alice standing beside him, one of her hands held out in front of her.
Smiling sadly, Neville held his hand out, palm up, to accept her ritualistic gum wrapper. It was practically tradition and once he got back to his quarters it would be added to the small cedar box he kept inside his bedside table, enchanted with an Engorgement charm so it could hold two decades worth of crumpled blue and white papers. Alice placed her hand above his and uncurled her fingers, but instead of a square of sugary paper, something smooth and warm landed on his palm.
Brow furrowing, Neville lifted his hand closer to his face and something in his chest seized. There it was, a small golden circle glimmering against his skin, the minute diamond winking in the spring sunshine. That same simple, charming ring that Alice Longbottom had worn for thirty years, even after she could not remember why she had it or where it had come from; his mother's engagement ring.
Neville couldn't stop his lip from quivering as he looked up to meet his mother's face, where the resemblance was so severe even with the damages time had wrought on them both. She was smiling in a pleasantly dreamy way, not all there as usual, but there seemed to be something sharp and exact in her eyes that suggested only one thing: clarity. Choking back a sob, Neville pulled his mother into a hug and for a moment buried his face in her shoulder, wanting to believe for even a second that the scenario was as it should be. He tried to think that his mother, overwhelmed with pleasure that her little boy was in love and getting married, had just presented him with a priceless treasure and that they were now hugging and crying together.
But it wasn't; Alice was hugging him back but in that light way one used when being forced to be friendly with distant family. Although his cheeks were now shining with tears, he stepped back to see her eyes were dry and the light had gone from them again. The moment of burning reality was gone and she was once again only a patient with no memory or sanity or understanding of the fact that she had just given her only child the greatest gift he could have asked for.
Eyeing him curiously, Alice reached up and brushed her hand over his cheek and then stared at her fingers as if trying to reason what the strange wetness was. Neville took a heavy, shaking breath and tucked his mother's ring into his breast pocket. "Thanks, Mum," he said, his voice thick. He pressed another, firmer kiss against her cheek and then made for the door to the ward as he sought to control himself.
Just as his hand extended for the doorknob, his other hand was seized in a soft, weathered one. A second later he felt the grittiness and heard the crinkling as a wrapper for Droobles' Best Blowing Gum was pressed into his palm. Neville looked over his shoulder to see Alice smiling cheerfully. "Thanks, Mum," he said again, his saddened smile back again. Without any other reaction, she turned and walked back to her bed. Neville watched as she sat down and promptly snatched a piece of gum from her bedside table, popped it into her mouth, and then set about flattening the wrapper in her lap.
Taking deep, shuddery breaths to get his breathing back to normal, Neville slid the wrapper he held into his pocket and felt his fingers brush the little ring. He fought against the burning that rose in his eyes as he thought about it and put his jacket on. With one last check that both of his mother's gifts were tucked securely in his pocket, and one last glance over his shoulder, he left the hospital.