The regular disclaimer stays I only own the AU and OC, the rest is borrowed from JKR's world.(np)
Chapter 30
Why did life have to be so demanding? Had he not sacrificed enough? Neville had lived like an orphan, had endured the taunts and the tease of fellow school mates, had lived in fear of one of the most ferocious teachers of Hogwarts. In a way he had glad, he was not the chosen one! Had he been, he would have simply perished in his first year. Then suddenly he had become a hero, had taken the responsibility for an army of students, had earned the respect of elves, had been given Merlin's First Class.
Even Professor Snape had sort after him, ready to discuss his research on the lycanthropy healing remedies. What begun as a spare-time project to keep himself occupied, had now turned into a necessity? He had yearned for Hermione's presence. Even her bossy muttering would help him ease off the building tension. Looking down at his robes, he had realized, I won't be requiring these.
Walking up to the small bathroom down the wall, he had closed the door with a soft thud. Shrugging of the robes, he had hung it on one of the pegs, removing his tunic, mechanically, he had hung it as well. Turning back, he had caught sight of his mangled back. And had felt those tell-tale shudders, growling in pain, he had sat down on his knees and had got hold of a box from below the washbasin. Fetching a potion, a handy invention of Snape, he had downed that in one gulp. This would ease the burn and the sizzle but he had to keep his mind still, to see through tonight. Winching in lingering pain, he had stood up and had gingerly eased himself into his only bathrobe.
There was a knock at the door.
Instead of walking up to it, he had managed to speak aloud.
"Come in."
It was Zabini. "Pansy is..mate, you don't look well?"
"It will pass."
"The after-effects of the Cruciatus Curse…"
Chuckling dryly, Neville had murmured, "is there anything else, you don't know, Slytherin?"
"I don't know whether to pin you as a sadist or a romantic!"
Neville had laughed out loud. "You have a way with your words, Blaise, I will give you had, then his voice had dipped down to a whisper, "I will not hurt my wife, I can assure you of that with a Gringotts stamp."
"Pansy knows…I mean about Carrows."
"That is not surprising, I am glad she has more reason to have fun at my expense."
"I will leave that for you to judge. Now, how can I be of help, I mean, if you can instruct me thoroughly, I learn what needs to be done, in order to help…"
"There is a barrel next to the washbasin. Fetch those potion cakes from the glass box, you would need two, one you throw in the water of the tub. And the other inside that barrel. I have already charmed the pipelines. We need to ensure that Pansy must be both submerged and drenched with the mix. You…"
"I will be in the corridor, right outside…I think she has started undergoing the first effects of the scars."
"I…"
"Neville, I know, I should n't be the one to say this to you, but I am the only one here. Mate, forget everything for some time. Just imagine, here is someone, you have started loving, liking, caring for, and to you she is drop-down gorgeous. Make her see the caring side of you as you have been so far…Pansy is a spoiled brat, we all are mostly, but we are paupers in one criterion…love. Show us love, and we will be ready to kill for you."
"Blaise, will she ever love me…"
"This is a new world, Neville, we must change accordingly."
The door behind him had opened again, and Neville had caught the sight of Pansy standing behind the Slytherin man, he had come to consider as a comrade of sorts. She had been biting her lips, looking everywhere but him. He had shallowed once and had stood up.
"Blaise, she should step inside the tub, once it is filled up to the brim, and then you can put on the shower."
A little hurt that her new husband had been ignoring her, Pansy had walked in and had stood next to Blaise. Her friend had offered her an encouraging smile and had turned away to give her some privacy. It had felt odd to step inside a tub filled with a glistening liquid still dressed. But the moment she had lowered herself in the water, she had felt it. Every cell on her body had burnt, every nerve had jolted in surprise, she had tried to jump off the water when a burst of the same liquid had rained down on her from above. She had fought against the combined forces and had splashed away the tub, determined to run away from it all. Then she had felt someone tying her hands and legs apart.
Neville had sent those special body binding spells at her, letting those ropes tie her down. He had seen the first signs of the potion doing its work and had grabbed at Blaise's shoulders, shoving the baffled man out of the door, hurriedly whispering into his ears, "Look for those red scars to shine like the moon, always, always look for those scars to shine like full moon…"
Before he could slam the door on his face, Blaise had put a foot inside, his voice urgent, "How are you certain?"
"Rita Skeeter is dead; the world knows she died from werewolf assault. Cover up. I had healed her and had killed her. She was working for Greyback. And she had gone far too deep. We would all have died if she was left alive."
In utter shock, Blaise Zabini had walked back, letting Neville shut the door. He hadn't realized the other man had handed over his wand to him. A wizard without his wand. A wizard who would stop at nothing to ensure that the people he cared for are safe. This was a new Neville. A Gryffindor who will strike first and then ask questions. The war indeed was a nasty piece of work.
A/N: I know many of you will find it difficult to agree, but imagine a soldier, or the person having undergone unspeakable torture, will he flinch to kill in order to save the ones he loves and cares for?
