"If you're goin' to apologise I don't want t'hear it," said Jo soon as Neville tried to open his mouth, hopping a bit to test how much weight she could put on her freshly healed ankle. "How high d'you think you were when you fell, Nev?" She asked, lifted her head and sharply raised a brow.
"Uh," the wizard hesitated, glancing at Hermione. "I-I don't know."
"About twenty meters," she saw Madam Pomfrey pause in the corner of her eye. "Twenty," the brunette stressed. "Do you know the worst of what could've happened? If I hadn't been there?"
"N-no," Neville shook his head, voice quiet. "I don't understand. Couldn't I have just broken my bone?"
"You could have snapped your neck, Mr. Longbottom," Madam Pomfrey spoke cuttingly, taking the words right out of Jo's mouth.
"I thought Madam Hooch would spongify her robes for you to land on or something," she confessed softly.
"But she didn't," Hermione murmured.
"Yeah, she didn't, but you're worth more than a fractured ankle," Jo's fierce voice had some steel. "You, Neville, your life is priceless. So, don't you even think about apologisin', alright? I mean it. Don't even think about it."
Later that night, she would wonder exactly what Neville had gone through to look like he had never had someone believe in his worth before.