"Hi Mum," said Neville softly.

He sat down next to her bed and tried not to frown. The vacant expression he had known for so long was gone. Alice looked agitated. Restless. She rocked back and forth and shook her head repeatedly.

"What's wrong?" asked Neville automatically, completely forgetting that his mother was incapable of answering.

Alice lifted her hand to his face and lightly touched the scars that marred it. Neville immediately stiffened. The gesture was unfamiliar, worrisome and the most wonderful thing he had ever felt.

She was still distant. She was still broken beyond repair. But she cared, even if she didn't understand why or even remember him in the morning. It made him feel sickeningly hopeful and horrendously guilty. He was the one who was supposed to be looking after her, not the other way around.

"It's alright, Mum," said Neville quietly. "I'm fine. It's nothing." Nothing compared to you.

Alice didn't seem to hear or understand. She only laid her palm across his cheek and covered up the scars. For a moment, it looked like they weren't even there. For a moment, it seemed as though Neville hadn't been tortured at all.