"What brings you to my door at this hour?" Snape asked silkily, motioning for the boy to enter his office. "I believe you know the consequences of breaking school rules."
Neville winced involuntarily, but accepted the invitation.
"I needed to talk to you, sir," Neville told him.
Snape saw the agitation in Neville's movements and the deep worry in his eyes. Snape had gotten to know him well enough to know his tells, and he could tell that something had happened. The small flecks of blood that were probably aspirated onto the boy's shirt cuffs only served to underline that fact. And the blood wasn't Neville's either, Snape decided. The gouges on his cheek were scabbed over, and the blood on his cuffs wasn't even dry yet. Someone else's blood, then, and that would be even harder on the brave youth.
"Drink this first," Snape told him, handing him a small vial.
"What is it?" Neville asked, looking at it.
"Slow acting poison," Snape replied, his eyebrow arching. "Drink it or I'll get the fast-acting one."
Neville quaffed it, knowing that if Snape really wanted him dead it would take the man a flick of his wand. And to have the conversation he wanted to have with the man he would have to trust him, so taking the potion felt like a good way to start. He recognized the taste of a calming draught, and nodded his head.
"Thank you, professor," he told Snape politely. "I guess I needed that."
"Now tell me what you came here to say," Snape told him, motioning for him to sit down at the chair in front of his desk. He knew this conversation had to happen at some point, and he had pondered as to how to defend himself to the Dark Lord should he be able to dredge these memories out of Neville's mind. He knew there was some risk, but he also realized that this was the time. The final battle was coming soon, he could feel it.
"I need your help," Neville told him.
"What makes you think I am an appropriate person?" Snape asked him, arching an eyebrow. "I don't think I have garnered the trust as, say, your head of house."
"McGonagall's alright," Neville admitted. "But she's rubbish at strategy and this kind of stuff. Ron was good at strategy, and even Ginny - but they're gone. And I also want someone that will tell me the truth rather than what they think they should say for the war effort and all."
"I see," Snape replied. "How is it I can be of help, then?"
"I need to know whether or not to give up," Neville said carefully. "I mean, it has just gotten so hard. If it was just me, then I wouldn't worry. But first it was kids starting to disappear, and then it was Luna. Now Ginny's gone, and more and more kids are being hurt. And now Michael Corner . . ."
"What happened to him?" Snape prompted, his lips thin. He found himself hoping that the dark-haired Ravenclaw hadn't actually met an early end.
"He's with Madame Pomfrey, and he's been beaten badly," Neville told him sadly, with a hint of guilt in his tone. "Internal bleeding, she said. But she said he will make it."
"I see," Snape nodded, feeling more relief than he was willing to show. "And you are wondering whether or not you should end your rebellion before someone gets killed. All the gestures that your group has made no longer feel like heroic gestures, but rather petty resistance that now seems far more dangerous than it felt yesterday. Am I correct?"
"You are," Neville agreed, relieved. The man always seemed to know what he wanted to say without saying it, and it was such a relief to not have to explain everything.
"But you also don't want to give up hope," Snape told him softly. "You know that your work has saved countless classmates, and inspired still others to not give up in the hope that this war will end, and that the Dark Lord will be defeated. You are afraid that giving up means that you fail."
"What do I do?" Neville asked, his voice raw. He really didn't know.
Snape wished he could simply be the boy's friend and tell him to run, to use whatever shred of self-preservation he had left to him and skip the country. Sighing, he realized he wished he could say it to himself as well. Just like Neville he was risking himself and everyone he held dear to bring down Voldemort, with no clear assurance that they would succeed.
"Perhaps a change of perspective might be helpful to you," Snape told him. "It wouldn't necessarily be failure for you to, well, change tactics. Think of it as a new phase of your rebellion. You don't have to stop everything, just things you deem as too great of a risk."
"No more graffiti," Neville nodded. "No more pranks. Just rescue, hide and get food."
"The room cannot provide food," Snape pondered. "But I wonder if it could, I don't know, tunnel to somewhere that could? Like somewhere in Hogsmeade?"
"That's a great idea!" Neville smiled a bit. "I'll have to try it."
"Really, Longbottom, you should learn to think out of the box," Snape told him with sarcasm. Then, softer, Snape said, "I need to discuss something with you of great import."
"What is it, sir?"
"You can sometimes be . . . shortsighted, Longbottom. There has been the tactic used for parents all year, that if they refuse to cooperate with the ministry then the ministry would take it out on the children. You've seen the results, undoubtedly."
"Yes, sir," Neville answered, paling. It hadn't been pretty.
"Then I would hope that you would understand when I say that that situation could be reversed," Snape told him carefully. "Right now children are being held responsible for what their parents might do. But at some point soon parents might be held responsible for their children."
"I don't really have parents, or at least not ones the big V will bother with," Neville told him. "I have an an uncle, but he can take care of himself. My cousins are mostly in hiding anyway. But Gran . . ."
"She would likely be their number one target," Snape agreed. "'Tis a pity that students have no access to the floo network nor owls anymore, or perhaps you might be able to warn her."
Neville understood, Snape knew about the floo in the Room of Requirement. He had to warn his Gran, she could be in danger by his activities. His Gran had always been somewhat . . . disappointed in Neville. She had wanted him to be better in Transfiguration and Potions and didn't understand his affinity for Charms and Herbology, but she had begun to back off a lot of that in the past two years. But he wasn't sure how she was going to take the fact that his activities would likely force her to go on the run.
"There is one more matter," Snape told him, his voice grave. "Have you noticed that there are certain . . . punishments that I tend not to use on you?"
"Yes," Neville replied, suddenly a little nervous. Is this when the man breaks down and uses the cruciatus on him?
"I know that you are being taught the cruciatus in your Dark Arts Class," Snape told him. "I also know that you pretended incompetence rather than use the cruciatus on a third year Ravenclaw. I believe her name to be Melodie Mitchell?"
"Something like that," Neville answered carefully.
"Such a frivolous name," Snape sneered. "Miss Mitchell hasn't been seen since then. Rumors are that she is hiding with many other half-bloods and purebloods that have been targeted."
"It's possible," Neville shrugged, knowing the man didn't believe his subterfuge. But he had to keep up appearances.
"If I should ever threaten to or use such a punishment on you, this is a sign of my extreme . . . aggravation," the man told him carefully. "It would be better for you to meet her fate than to have to submit to mine at that point. Do you understand?"
"I think so," Neville told him. Did they just set up a secret code?
"I will certainly be very cross with you should I make such a threat," Snape told him, hoping he was clear. "You would not want to see me then."
"Thank you for the warning, sir," Neville answered, understanding. "I will try my best to not earn such ire from you."
"See that you do," Snape nodded. "I will to see you at your evening detention tomorrow night."
"I will endeavor to be on time, sir," Neville replied.
"Neville, I . . ."
"Yes, sir?" Neville asked.
Snape wanted to say what he was thinking. He wanted to say how proud he was of the young man who went from melting cauldrons and being afraid of his own shadow to being the brave leader of the student rebellion. He wanted to tell the boy that his actions saved lives and limited the Carrows power, and that Snape had seen how he had paid for it with his blood. He wanted to say how much he regretted having to cane him, and how each time he had done it he had grown to hate the action even more. He wanted to say how . . . he had started to have fatherly feelings toward the boy; a far cry from the cruel distain he had shown the boy for most of his Hogwarts career. He wanted to apologize for the harm he had caused the lad, and also to say he had seen the young man he had become. But, of course, he couldn't say any of those things.
"Do get back without being seen," he told him. "I should hate to be interrupted again this evening in order to apply the cane once more to your backside."
"I understand, sir," Neville answered, nodding. "I should hate that as well."
"Then get to bed," Snape told him. "And remember what I said."
"I will, sir," Neville nodded. "I promise."
. . .
Ten minutes later, Neville knelt down by the floo in the Room of Requirement and called his Gran. It had taken him a moment to work up the courage, she was a formidable person and rarely had anything good to say to Neville. But, the thought of not warning her was just too horrible to contemplate.
"Gran, this is Neville," he called into the fire.
"Neville!" she exclaimed happily. "Are you hurt? Held prisoner?"
"I'm fine, Gran," he told her. "I just needed to warn you. I've been, well, I've been sort of one of the leaders for the rebellion at Hogwarts. We've been giving the Carrows and Snape a bad time and trying our best to protect and rescue the half-bloods."
"You have been?" she asked blankly.
"I have," Neville confirmed. "I'm really sorry, Gran, but I wanted to warn you that it's possible they might come after you to try and . . . well, get me under control. You can't let them take you."
"I'm in danger because you're subverting the ministry and the Dark Lord?" she asked, incredulous.
"I'm really sorry about it," Neville apologized.
"You should be!" his Gran snapped at him. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"
"Well, I was trying to keep it a secret . . ."
"Of course, of course, I understand," she answered. "But let me tell you that it was simply horrid to listen to Lavender Brown's Grandpa brag about how his grand daughter is fighting, and I have no clue as to what you're up to. And you're leading it?"
"Yes, ma'am," Neville replied, confused.
"What has Snape done to you?"
"Well, I've gotten the cane more than any other student," Neville replied. "I've been in the infirmary several times as well . . ."
"Neville, I couldn't be more proud!" his Gran told him, her voice bubbling over with emotion. "Your parents would be so proud. My Grandson, the freedom fighter!"
"But Gran, you may be in danger . . ."
"Don't worry about me," she told him pertly. "I was a dueling champion in my own right, and I dare them to try something! But I shall pack a bag and be ready for them."
"Gran, you should just run . . ."
"I am not running from the likes of the death eaters," she told them, her voice blazing. "Let them try and come!"
"Promise me you'll be careful," he told her. "Please, Gran, I couldn't stand it if you were hurt on my account."
"I'll be careful," she promised, though her voice was still feisty.
"I have to go now, Gran," Neville told her. "Get me a message if you can."
"I will!" she answered, practically singing in joy.
After he hung up, Neville looked at the fire in the floo for a few moments, trying to make sense of that conversation. He had thought his grandma would be irate at him, and instead she acted like he'd gotten O's on all his NEWTS.
"She's nuts, mate," Seamus told him. People couldn't help overhearing, the room wasn't that big.
"I thought she'd shout at me," Neville admitted. "I never imagined she'd be this happy."
