10
Neville
The bathroom stalls were full, and he was debating whether or not he should kip up to the men's loo on the floor above, or wait for one to empty. There was a science, he held, to how long one should wait. Stand there too long, and they'd joke that you were watching them, and call you a pervert, even if you were just waiting, minding your own business, wanting to have a leak. Move out of the room too fast to find an empty upstairs and the bastards would joke once you left that you were afraid of showing off your tiny prick. It was a lose-lose situation, one he knew all too well, having been the butt of jokes like this for years.
In his sixth year, though, things had started to adjust. By the beginning of sixth he'd seen a marked upturn in positive attention, and the teasing had become more agreeable, good-natured, instead of nasty. He only got pranked by a single bloke younger than him during the entire term, and most of his own class seemed to be backing off, with the exception of the Slytherins. He'd figured they'd likely never respect him, but it was still strange to see some of them stop making moves to pick on him, watch him with curious eyes, as if wondering what he was capable of. Then this year, he'd come back to school to be surrounded by idolizing second and third years, who showered him with questions like he was Harry Bloody Potter. Fourth years had asked him to tutor them in Herbology (at Professor Sprout's suggestion!) girls in fifth and sixth were twirling their hair and smiling at him, and the boys in his grade had been slapping him on the back in the halls after class. He hadn't had a single comment about his forgetfulness or a solitary trip jinx shot at him yet- and come to think of it, he hadn't run into any trees around Hannah Abbott (or any other girl for that matter) for months!
Yes, Seventh Year was turning out pretty good for Neville Longbottom. Except for the part where Death Eaters were in control of his school, torture was an everyday part of lectures, and he was the leader of an ultra-illegal revolutionary student fighting force. Him. Neville Longbottom. And he still had no idea how to ask Hannah Abbott out, or where, in the middle of a war, you could ask a girl to go out with you to, or how you were supposed to make a move on her when you might very well get attacked on said date . . .
Ok, so things weren't exactly peachy. He had some work to do.
Still, all in all, it was a fantastic start for a bloke who'd still never kissed a girl at seventeen and chose to coordinate his outfits before nightfall to make sure he never forgot to wear pants. He was pretty sure Hannah had been flirting with him last Tuesday during charms, too, when he'd sent a cheering charm at her by accident and she'd said she never needed one around him.
The rush that had given him had knocked him into heaven for the next three periods, with the result that by the time he got around to putting together his notes for the officer's meeting the next day, he'd spent his entire free period day dreaming about other things he could do to cheer Hannah up, and had to finish an entire Astronomy essay literally by moonlight. Then, after four hours of sleep and burnt toast, he'd had a double Dark Arts class, where his crankiness had led to mouthing off, and mouthing off had led to the lovely four-inch long cut he was now sporting on his shoulder.
Double Dark Arts had been followed by missing-lunch-to-get-dittany, after which he had to run to Herbology, and Hannah had panicked (to both his pleasure and his guilt) when he had been ten minutes late. And he still didn't have his full plans for the officer's meeting complete, which would be pretty hard to concentrate on while sharing a table with Hannah, as she had taken to wearing a vanilla-honey perfume that made him think of Jiggy's Christmas sugar cookies. But Ginny had once told him though that chicks loved scars- so he could only go wrong if he died in the process, right?
Neville crossed the Great Hall, noting with pride that was incredibly difficult to mask the graffiti was still up and blaringly bright on the stone walls. Parvati had taken five volunteers the second Saturday night of October and spray painted "Dumbledore's Army, Still Recruiting", "Snape's a Slimy Git", "Harry Potter is Fighting for Justice", and "Happy Halloween, Moldy-Warts!" to great success. Revealed by a glamour charm at breakfast the week before the Halloween feast, the messages had set the whole castle buzzing and Neville had been flooded with new members wishing to join the DA. The prospective recruits had dropped in number after the Carrows had rounded up Neville, Ginny, Seamus, and two sixth year Gryffindors and subjected them to Veritaserum and the Cruciatus curse. Their tea party hadn't gone as planned, however, since the Fidelius wouldn't let them name anyone involved in the graffiti and none of them had written the messages, so their handwriting didn't match. Ginny and Seamus had even been seen in the library the night before- a solid alibi- but this didn't stop the Carrows from chaining the lot of them in the dungeons without dinner or breakfast for the next day. They'd kicked them a bit, but nothing more, and the anger of the student population at their incarceration had been sweet to Neville's ears.
Snape had been trickier, though, and was proving problematic when it came to planning their next event. They wanted to set off Halloween music celebrating Harry's triumph over Moldy Warts to play from the jack-o-lanterns and perhaps some suits of armor, but so far they'd had no luck finding a charm that the Ravenclaws couldn't find a quick counterjinx for. Wanting the song to last at least a single verse before the Carrows began to cut it off, Neville had set the entire DA to finding a recording device or charm that was sturdy enough and rare enough to withstand a full four minutes of cursing.
He knew it was pushing their luck, but with the disguises almost done, training sessions revealing marked improvement, and Luna's news of elf-help still on his mind, Neville was beginning to feel like being a leader was something he could be good at. Suddenly, the things that had scared him and towered over him were mere hurdles to be jumped as he ran, rather than mountains to huff and heave himself up over. They'd begun physical training, meeting in the room in small groups three mornings a week to do sit-ups, push-ups, pull-ups, and run sprints in the training room. Luna had braided each member their own tri-color jumping rope, which Neville found handy, though he suspected the smiles of thanks from the others might have been a bit less than genuine.
Quidditch had been cancelled when the school refused to back down. More graffiti appeared, this time without the DA's help. The messages were messier but no less creative; one Third year girl had been whipped for her "Alecto Shags Dead Blokes" sign near the fourth floor girl's loo, which had flashing red letters and copious amounts of silver glitter. Filch could often be seen scrubbing the walls while the Carrows walked behind him with their wands aimed at the stubborn paint. Some of the designs had faded, but Neville hoped that the new stunt would put real Halloween cheer in the students' steps. With three days left before Halloween on Friday, he was hard pressed to find a solution fast.
He strode past the Room thrice and walked through the door once the gold star appeared. The Room itself had been a big success, and Ginny, Luna, and Neville had found it challenging to talk most of their forty-eight members out of staying in the Room permanently. They argued that it risked the Room to overuse it, and the secret could be compromised before more recruits had joined. Luna had pointed out in song to the tune of "A Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love" that it wasn't fair to the other students, who had no safe haven to go to, if they stayed in the Room for the entire year. They also wouldn't be able to leave once they stayed full time. This took away the option to save other students. In the end, Seamus and the others had agreed to wait until at least Christmas before discussing full-time occupancy.
Neville realized it was already in use once he'd entered. It had become commonplace to disrobe and relax in the Room, and many students used it as a study in place of the library or their common rooms, since they could play music, bring snacks, and meet outside their house without fear of the Carrows. A bit of dueling to break up long study sessions was always a welcome addition. Susan Bones, Terry Boot, and Padma were studying Arithmancy on the big three-seat couch, with Terry's books spread across a huge table, and Parvati was lazing in an armchair, her legs over the head and her braids dangling down where her feet should be. Hannah sat in trousers with her white shirt partly unbuttoned and her shoes and socks off, painting her toenails, and talking to Ginny, who was sharing her turquoise pot and brush. Two sixth year boys from Hufflepuff and a girl from Ravenclaw played exploding snap over the balcony, and in the infirmary, Neville could hear Luna and two other voices singing as they painted. She had insisted upon decorating the walls opposite the beds to cheer up future patients, and several of the others had agreed to help. Currently, the theme was to be "Mythical Beasts," though Neville wondered how many beasts there were left that Luna thought were just mythical.
He heard muffled shots from spells and running in the training room, and looked at the blackboard. Once they'd each walked in to a simulation and gotten shot at by the dummies a handful of times, Ginny had suggested they add a blackboard to the door and ask the Room to list the participants inside if it was occupied. Currently, the board showed "Seamus, Elena, Romilda, Anthony, Veroniqua, and Quentin" were "healthy but losing". Neville chuckled and reminded himself to ask Romilda if she remembered the spell that made everlasting confetti, as she had been telling a story about her older sister jumping out of a professional Quidditch player's birthday cake the previous night. Neville was hoping she might know which charm they could use to make streamers and confetti join the unpoppable balloons Ginny had provided from her brothers' shop. The balloons could be spelled to change colors and the multiplied every time someone vanished, banished, or popped them. They would have to be popped by hand individually, and each one, thanks to Luna and Hannah, now flashed the words, "Happy Halloween Moldy-Warts!" in neon purple and yellow letters. They planned to release the music, party décor, and perhaps some good old dancing on Halloween night at the feast, though it was surely a risky move that would bring serious backlash from the Carrows.
Ginny looked up from her toenails and motioned him over, and Neville dropped his bookbag and slid down next to Hannah on the floor.
"Taking a day off, I see?" he teased them.
"We are enjoying a few well earned comforts, thank-you-very-much," Ginny snipped back, downing the rest of her butterbeer. She, like Seamus, was sporting a bruises, and three of the DA fifth years had been "interrogated" by Amycus earlier in the day and were likewise adorned.
"Celebrating something special, then? Got a new boyfriend, Ginny? Or maybe you've had good news from Snape, and he's agreed to sell you his own shampoo potion?"
Ginny smacked Neville lightly as Hannah giggled. "My hair is gorgeous just the way it is, and that's just the way it'll stay," she responded. No one commented on the boyfriend bit, knowing, as always, that Ginny would answer no questions about her relationship (or lack thereof) with Harry.
"We stayed up all night finishing those balloons, and then I had an essay due earlier. Hannah here had two assignments due- fourteen inches on "How to Properly Document Your Bloodline"! I thought after Alecto decided to hex me for asking if she'd doctored up her bloodline chart, I could use a little pick-me-up."
"And we don't have anything stronger, so nail polish and butterbeer will have to do," Hannah chuckled. She put her hands on Neville's and grabbed his notes. "What have you got planned for tonight? Anything new?"
Neville blushed. Touching her still did that to him. "I went through the notes from the last three training sessions, and I want us to start splitting people up into more varied groups. I want people using the simulator from different years together, so the younger ones watch how the older ones take on a challenge, and I want to schedule it a bit more like a class, so we're consistent- lately it's been more the sixth and seventh years who've been using it, and that's great, but we need to vary who we work with. We won't always have all one house or all another."
"That sounds good. Any news from Luna?"
"I expect she'll have more from the Quibbler today- she always does on Tuesday nights. And she was hinting about wanting to talk about accepting Slytherins, too- although I wasn't sure from her language. She could have meant we needed to eat them more often, I guess- she just said they'd go well with butter . . . I don't know if that means they're slippery or delicious," Ginny added, scratching her head, and the other two laughed. Lately the four of them, plus Michael, had been taking on the roles of not just leaders, but heads of entertainment. They encouraged the others to stay in the Room to study and relax, in hopes that it would become a second home and they would form closer ties with those outside of their year and house. Ginny had pointed out several times that if she and Luna hadn't been friends, Luna might never have been in the first DA, because no one else would have known her to invite her.
Neville stretched, casually angling closer to Hannah. He'd been trying to perfect his new idea of reaching around her as if to support himself, and wrapping an arm around her shoulder, to see how she'd take it. Ginny seemed to find his ploy entirely too amusing, however, and would usually start laughing and ruin it before he could get close enough. The three had contemplated having the other seventh and a few select sixth years join them in the Room after the Halloween feast for a late night officer's meeting and a slumber party of sorts, and though the dormitories were upstairs, Neville hoped he'd get a glimpse of Hannah in her pajamas. Or maybe, if he worked up the courage and no one else was around, giving her a goodnight kiss. If he was lucky.
Just then, the training room opened and six sweaty, frustrated students exited. Quentin was hopping on one foot and Veroniqua had a cut lip and a broken nose, but Seamus informed him that they had lasted longer than he'd thought they could on level three in the dark. "We were fightin' six on eight, an' at that rate, yeh'll have a few 'o them on your tail before yeh realize it," he shrugged. Veroniqua slumped out to the infirmary with an exasperated Romilda following her. Seamus wiped his forehead and then straightened suddenly, pointing to the Map hanging above the entrance to the Room.
Since the first day, the one thing that had not changed about the Room was the Map, thusly named, which Ginny had informed them came from a long line of troublemakers including her brothers. Neville had never asked her if Harry was involved, but from the way she'd sighed upon seeing it, he got the feeling there was more than sisterly affection behind the fantastic parchment. Ginny had described the Map (which she claimed she had never owned, but had on several occasions held) to the Room, and the Room, in all it's glory, had acquiesced. Now it hung fifteen feet wide across the wall above the entrance, showing all the rooms and levels of Hogwarts and tiny feet stepping where the people themselves walked. Seamus stepped off towards the Map and the Room grew silent, talking ceasing, as the pair of feet labeled Amycus Carrow slowed to a halt right outside their door.
"Mate, the Room is soundproof, right?" Seamus whispered, as Ginny assured two girls that no one without a DA coin and the password could enter or see inside, or even know if it was being occupied. Neville nodded, wondering if this would be the first time his wards and the Room's loopholes would be tested. Everyone had gathered by now in the front of the Common Room, Luna's music silenced, and she and her two fellow painters were splattered with purples and greens.
"They can't breach it, Nev, don't worry," Hannah said softly from his side. Neville realized he was shaking with worry, and sat on top of a table, continuing to point his wand at the entrance. The feet labeled "Amycus" were pacing back and forth outside the Room, stopping occasionally. When seven minutes passed and nothing changed, Seamus and Terry began to get antsy.
"What if he stays out there all night? What if he posts someone to watch the corridor?"
"If they knew about the Room and thought we were using it, Snape would have done so by now- he'd have found a way to seal it shut, or put a picture to guard it. There's nothing on the walls to report back to him that we're anywhere near here," Neville assured. Inside, however, his intestines squirmed, and he felt his stomach turn over violently. What if Snape had told Amycus to check it out? If Amycus couldn't get in, they would know someone was using the Room, wouldn't they?
Amycus's feet were suddenly joined on the map by Argus Filch, who had run from the floor below. At once, the two pairs of feet took off to the stairs, and Neville breathed a sigh of relief alongside everyone else present.
"Oh! Look! Look what pulled them away!" Susan Bones nearly screamed, gesturing to their terminus. At the bottom of the stairs were the feet labeled Michael Corner, next to Sylvia Whipple, a first year. Sylvia, Neville knew, had been pulled out of Muggle Studies the day before by an irate Alecto, who had taken her to the dungeons after she'd defended her Muggle father. They hadn't heard anything about the little girl since. The stairs immediately to the left of their feet led to the dungeons, and in an instant Neville knew that Michael had done something foolish- brave, but stupid- and now he was going to pay. Neville had scarcely felt so helpless in his life. It was daylight still, and Amycus was staying to punish Michael himself instead of insisting some Slytherins do it for him. Voices behind Neville begged to free Michael, to set up a rescue team, to alert others and take out Amycus, but Neville set his mouth and turned.
"I will not rescue anyone- and I mean ANYONE- who attempts a rescue without alerting the others and getting approval by this team. Michael went in without knowing anything about those dungeons- he's never been locked up in there!- without calling for backup or asking for lookouts. He ran into things without thinking. It sucks, but we can't let that become habit. It endangers us all. We can't put together a rescue team for one impetuous act every time someone becomes overwhelmed and tries to go off on their own, and I want everyone to know that this team works for fighting evil- not just stopping pain. I'm sorry, but that's my order."
Terry and Anthony looked at him coldly, and Padma whimpered before sitting down. The rest of the members, save Ginny and Hannah, looked at him with mixes of confusion, anger, and regret. Ginny stared at him before nodding approvingly and quietly retaking her seat, and Hannah grimaced understandingly. She loped her arm around his, tugging him into an armchair, and Neville sagged into it.
"I just don't see what else we can do in this kind of situation," he mumbled with his hands on his face. Anthony and Terry were watching the feet on the Map as Michael's went flying across the dungeons, smacking into the stone wall twice. The feet moved sporadically, jerking across the floor for a few more minutes, before they went still. Amycus's feet moved to chain Michael to the wall, and Slyvia was placed in a cell towards the back. Terry let out an audible growl and Padma turned to him, whispering furiously, clearly pleading with him to see reason. Terry shook his head and disappeared up to the dormitory, followed by a shaking Anthony, who looked back at Neville in grim acceptance before mounting the stairs. Neville hung his head. What else was he supposed to do? Their hands were tied.
"This does give us some time to come up with a solution for when Amycus decides to try the Room again," Ginny spoke softly. Neville shrugged. The feet of Amycus Carrow were resting in his office, and Neville hoped it would stay that way for a long time.
He felt warmth on his knee and looked up to see Hannah's hand cupping his kneecap. She was leaning over, looking at him worryingly, and Neville met her gaze with sorrow. Hannah's hands slid up his thigh and Neville almost jumped as her soft legs and hips curled up on his lap, her back against the arm rest and his bicep. "I'm sorry, Nev. We'll heal him up. You couldn't have stopped it."
Neville looked down at her hands touching his. They were tiny, with long, delicate fingers, half-moon cuticles. They were free of dirt. Her palms felt soft, warm- lovely- in his hand. He took a gulp and squeezed them once, feeling a pulse of something shoot through his other arm that was now up against her back. She fit perfectly. Hannah's hands began to rub his own, and her fingers traced a callus from using his garden trowel. Her thumb gently loped around his, and he wondered what she was thinking about as she stared at his hand. Her body was a wonderful weight in his lap, with her long legs folded at the knees and her calves and feet dangling off the chair. He met her eyes, and couldn't look away. Hannah's grey-green were fluid, like sea water after it begins to foam, and her blonde hair was curling in tiny ringlets from her pony tail. He felt an inexplicable pull to hold her close, and without thinking, he wrapped his arms around her, closing the gap between them and cuddling her face to his shoulder. Her arms went around his midsection, and fingers palmed over his back, gliding up and down in a soothing stroke. He felt a bit of wetness on his shirt, and realized tears had slipped out of her tightly closed eyes.
"Shh," he whispered, holding her arms. A memory, vague and long forgotten, of being cradled this way before came to him, and he did the only thing he could think of to comfort her. He rocked a bit forward on his hips and then sunk into the chair, and as though the Room had heard his silent request, the chair pivoted slightly forward and then inches back, gently swaying the two of them. His heart rate had quickened, but this was not so bad- and he put his free hand on her head, pulling some of the escaped hairs back towards her pony tail, out of her face. "Shh, Hannah. It's ok." He whispered again.
"I'm not upset about Michael," came her hoarse whisper. Neville looked around, but the Room was empty, and no one was paying them any attention. Luna, Ginny and the others were in the meeting room or the training room, getting in one last simulation.
"What is it, then?" he asked, hoping she'd look at him so he could see if she was ok.
"I can heal Michael, when we can get him out. I can heal anyone they bring in here. I know how to make pain stop and I can fix broken bones, mend arteries . . . mix up antidotes. I've been practicing with Susan and Madam Pomfrey. But when they found Mum, she . . . s-she was all broken-n, a-a-and"
Neville closed his eyes, trying not to picture what Hannah may have seen. "How bad was it?" he asked softly, wondering for a moment where his courage was coming from. "How did she die?"
Hannah hiccupped and another sob slipped out. Neville pulled her closer and rocked her, waiting, and then her answer came so quietly he had to stop rocking to hear it,
"The Aurors said she couldn't have known it was coming. Somebody w-waited until she was going for her evening w-walk, they must h-have known her r-route. She got hit by a c-cutting spell that severed her calves. They silenced her, and s-she was in pain . . . lots of pain. They cut her chest, right through her clothes- a-and they wouldn't show her to me, a-and I was g-glad, b-because it mean-meant I could p-pretend she had a h-heart at-attack!"
Neville pulled her in to his chest, rocking her back and forth, and his own tears slipped out without thought. He had imagined far too many times just how much pain his parents must have been in to go mad the way they had. Having never known them as they had been before, it was tough to imagine what they would have yelled at their captors, whether they would have begged, how they would have moved, spoken, cried . . . but pain seemed the same in any language, and pain was something Neville had experienced for the majority of his life. He cradled Hannah to him, stroking her hair, which had fallen out of its ponytail, rubbing her arms and back, and then he reached down and kissed her forehead without thinking.
"I'm sorry, Hannah. I'm s-sorry they hurt her. And I'm glad you didn't have to see her. She probably would like it better if you remembered her happy, the way you made her feel. Don't think about it, just think about- think about something that reminds you of a time she smiled at you," he paused. He had no such memories to comfort himself with. "Think of what her laugh sounded like. You couldn't have stopped them and they might have killed you too. There wasn't anything you could have done."
Hannah's sobs had stopped, though she sniffled occasionally, and Neville felt her body stop shuddering as it had been. He placed another gentle kiss on her forehead, then hesitated as he looked down at her face and her closed eyes. His face drifted down, reddening slightly, and he pressed his lips softly, so softly, over her left eye, then over her right. They were wet, and tasted slightly salty, and felt supple and smooth under his lips. Hannah's eyes fluttered open after a few seconds, and Neville met her gaze with fear bouncing behind tentative desire.
She looked down, and Neville saw the corner of her lips drift upward ever so slightly, and her cheeks blushed the palest of roses. Neville thought his heart had burst. She ran her hand hesitantly over his, lacing her fingers in between his own, and Neville sat back into the armchair, pulling her form back against him. Right now, he wanted nothing more than to rest. To sit with Hannah curled up on him, to close his eyes, and to feel her breaths go in and out for hours. They had time left to find out what all this meant, and for right now, he'd had enough drama for the night. Tonight, he would make sure she was safe, and relaxed, and as happy as she could be. Tomorrow he'd find out how she felt.