Mothers

"There is a lady all in white,
Holds me and sings a lullaby,
She's nice to see and she's soft to touch,
She says "Cosette, I love you very much.""

Les Miserables - Castle On A Cloud Lyrics

They heard things sometimes, about what went on outside of Hogwarts' walls.

It wasn't quite a war – the Ministry had already fallen, and though no one had quite come out and said it officially yet, everyone with the slightest bit of brains knew that You-Know-Who had won.

There was a resistance though. Neville wasn't sure he could live with what was happening around them, with the way their world was falling apart, if he didn't know that there was a resistance doing everything they could to topple down Voldemort's regime.

Still, that didn't make it easy when they saw people they knew were monsters being acclaimed as heroes in the Daily Prophet, or when the Carrows tortured a first year for 'speaking out of turn' or…

Well, nothing about this was easy.

But at least they could do something about what went on inside Hogwarts – they were useless to fight everything else.

And sometimes, to know that was just too much for Neville, and he had to just do something to vent his anger.

(Merlin, he hadn't used to be so angry all the time, but with this… with this going on it was so easy to be scared, to be angry – to be scared of his anger, to get angry because of the fear)

So he trained. He trained to make sure that he would be the best teacher the DA could possibly have so that they would survive this (and please, please let them survive this), and to make sure he was too exhausted for his anger to eat him from the inside out.

That was how Ginny found him: running through the obstacle course they had managed to get the Room to give them, dodging colored blurs of whatever the Room threw at him – it wasn't spells, per se, and it wasn't any kind of object either, rather an odd unsubstantial thing that somehow stuck to your clothes and marked you – sending blasting curses at the animated puppets set up by the Room.

Every time he downed one another took its place – he had been there for nearly an hour, and would have stopped soon anyway if Ginny hadn't come in.

"I thought I might find you here," she stated sympathetically as she entered the room, staying clear of the dueling area she knew from experience would spring up some kind of opponent for her to face should she step on it.

Dodging a dark red blur, Neville moved off the platform and dropped down next to her.

"Was there anything you wanted?" He asked, and then winced. His tone had come out much harsher than he had expected it to, and judging from Ginny's arched eyebrow, she wasn't very impressed.

"Sorry," he apologized with a sigh, moving to sit on a bench near the entrance of the room. "I didn't mean to-"

"I get it, Neville," Ginny replied, rolling her eyes. "It's fine, really. We're all a little tensed right now, what with…" She trailed off, a guilty look on her face.

This time, it was Neville's turn to roll his eyes. "You can say it, you know," he said bitterly. "I'm not going to break down or anything, if that's what you were wondering. I just needed some time to myself, to err, think."

"Clearly," Ginny stated drily, eyeing the pile of destroyed mannequins that laid in the far off corner of the room. She sat next to Neville though, resting a comforting hand on his thigh, her eyes softening. "That's good, though. We need you Neville, and I know it's hard, but we're here for you – I'm here for you, if you need someone to talk to."

Neville let out a bitter bark of laughter. He wanted to yell, to scream at her – how could she think that she understood the way he was feeling, the way his anger felt like it was eating everything up.

But Ginny wasn't the one he truly wasn't angry at, and it wouldn't be fair to her if he yelled at her, so he swallowed back his anger, letting himself lean on the wall tiredly.

"Thanks, Ginny," he replied with a smile he hoped didn't look too broken.

From the way her hand tightened on his thigh, he hadn't really succeeded.

Neville considered leaving but… Well, Ginny had come all this way to find him and she genuinely wanted to help, so maybe… Maybe talking to her might help.

"I just…" Neville sighed. "It was one thing to know she was still alive but in prison, and Merlin, I was so mad when I heard she escaped but at least she was still known as the criminal, as the monster she is," he spat out, "but now the Ministry's pardoned her. It's like none of it ever mattered, like none of what she did to my par-to people mattered, and I just can't believe people are going along with it!"

"I'm sorry Neville," Ginny said with emotion, her eyes soft and warm. "I couldn't believe it either when I read it. We knew that the Ministry had fallen but I never considered that they would do this. It's just – it's just despicable, that's what it is," Ginny continued, incensed.

Despite himself, Neville found his lips twitching up.

"Thanks," he replied, heartfelt.

"You're welcome," Ginny said with a smile.

"I thought my parents were dead until I was five, you know," Neville said suddenly. "I mean, I knew they weren't, but my grandmother refused to let me see them until then and to a kid I guess it just feel like a story, you know, when she told me that she was visiting my parents. They weren't there and I guess part of me thought that meant they couldn't be there, that they were truly gone.

"Turns out," he laughed bitterly, "I was only wrong about the dead part. Bellatrix Lestrange did that to them – did that to my family and she laughed about it, and now they're telling me that she's to be given medals for what, 'protecting the word against the mudblood threat'? How can anyone believe that when they know the kind of monster she is?"

"People are stupid when they're scared," Ginny replied softly.

"But we're not – we're scared but we're still fighting, and it's like almost everyone is just laying down, waiting to be rolled over. I just-I just don't understand. Do you?" He asked, his eyes pleading.

Ginny looked torn. "Sometimes it's easier to ignore the problem, to tell yourself that it doesn't truly concern you. I guess," she hesitated, "I guess that some people feel like that."

"It's no excuse though."

"No it's not," Ginny agreed, a sad smile on her lips. "But enough of this – why don't you tell me about your parents, about your mother. You never talk about them," her tone overly cheerful.

Despite himself, Neville smiled wistfully. "I don't really know them – they're not in any real state to communicate or do anything, and I was too young when they… Well, when what happened happened," he continued with a tight voice, "to really remember the people they were before, but I've heard the stories. They were brave, or they never backed down from a fight.

"My mom, err, she liked oranges – my grandmother says that my father had to go out at all times of day and night to get her some while she was pregnant. My dad always acted all serious-like, but in truth he had a mischievous streak a mile wide – grandmother said he got into this prank war once with some of his housemates, and that they never even once suspected him."

"They sound like amazing people," Ginny smiled softly.

"They were," Neville replied bitterly wishing he had something to do with his hands beside clench and unclench them.

"I used to dream about them. Well, my mother mostly, but sometimes, sometimes it felt like my dad was there too. It was like a safe place for whenever I felt too alone. It probably was part of the reason why I thought they were dead," he mused out loud with a bittersweet smile.

"What was it like?"

"What?" Neville asked, surprised, Ginny's voice having dragged him out of what the thoughts now realized he had said aloud.

"That safe place of yours, with your parents," she explained, leaning to rest against him. "I'd like to hear about it – but only if you don't mind, of course."

For the second time – or was it the third? Neville could never keep track – that evening, Neville was surprised to find himself smiling.

"I don't really mind," he admitted, and was amazed to find that he actually meant it. "It was… peaceful, I guess. All white, but somehow it wasn't blinding – everything felt soft there too, somehow, like I was floating on a cloud. I always felt safe there, and warm… It was like, like," and there Neville struggled to find the right words.

"Like you were loved?" Ginny suggested, her eyes awfully bright.

"Yeah, loved," Neville said in a quiet tone, almost entirely to himself. "Anyway, that's where I felt like I saw them, saw her. She'd come sometimes – not always, but often enough. She never talked, not exactly, but she didn't need to, you know? She just needed to smile, or hold me and it felt like, like everything would be right in the world. It didn't matter that I might be a squib, or that they were wherever they were – because in those moments, my mother was there for me."

Neville stopped talking, his voice too tight to continue. He blinked back tears, and once he felt he was enough in control of his voice, he told Ginny that this was all there was to the story.

Ginny hugged him for a long moment, and though she was silent, Neville could feel that she was thinking about something.

"What are you thinking about?" He finally asked when Ginny made no move to let go of him.

"I'm thinking I need to introduce you to my mother," Ginny replied, her voice choked with tears. "And that we'll send back those Death Eaters to whichever hell they came from with extreme prejudice," she added, already sounding more like herself.

Neville smiled – not exactly at the thought, but at her, this wonderful, strong woman who had chosen him out of everyone else.

"I'd like that," he said. "I'd like that."