Disclaimer: I own nothing, except a collection of (dog-eared) Harry Potter books.
An Old Friend
It was Friday, a day that, to Hermione, was one of the most important and saddest days of her week. It was the day she visited Neville.
She had sworn to herself that she would come, every week she could, to visit an old friend and one of the first casualties of the war. Many people had died that night, Hermione remembered. She still believed that the prophecy should have been fulfilled that night – it seemed to fit. But, as she had learnt, life turns out as you least expect it. She could remember a feeling that she could have died that night, that maybe she should have. In her minds eye she could picture the scene. Death Eaters and Dementors, goblins and giants, had attacked Hogwarts. Hermione remembered the shouts of fear, the harsh, cold voices of the Death Eaters, Dumbledore's commanding voice that could be heard throughout the grounds, blasting out spell after spell. And she remembered the pain afterwards, as the remaining students picked through the corpses and casualties, hoping with little hope that their friends would be alive.
Hermione had been the one who had eventually found Neville. He was unmarked and when he looked up at her, he had smiled in a distant sort of way, and then proceeded to pull thread out of his robes. At first, Hermione had thought him merely shell-shocked, and she was overjoyed at seeing him well.
But he wasn't just shell-shocked.
He, like his parents, had been tortured to insanity. Hermione regarded this as one of the most evil acts ever committed, and her vindictiveness had increased considerably when she had heard the final diagnosis. Incurable insanity. If it were not for Ron's strong arms encircling her, strengthening her, she was sure she would have fainted. It was hard – to have a friend who had no idea who you were. It was at that moment that Hermione understood Neville's life-long agony. His parents didn't recognise him.
Neville had been brought to St. Mungo's, and though at this stage it was filling up fairly quickly, they had kept the long-term ward unchanged. He lay there, ignorant of the world and of the war, beside his parents. Hermione visited the hospital regularly, and her hatred of the building increased with each step inside the door she took.
To keep herself from dwelling on the awfulness of the things that went on here – she herself had spent weeks lying in a trolley here – she concentrated on work, namely the runes she was still attempting to translate, even after four days of putting everything else on hold. The staff knew Hermione and many nodded to her on the way up to Neville's ward, but so consumed in her work, she barely noticed. Finally, she reached correct door, took a deep breath, tried to forget about work and entered the room. The nurse on duty looked up and smiled at Hermione.
"He's just awake, love. I think he knew you were coming."
Hermione severely doubted this statement, and much as she longed for it to be true. It was unlikely that Neville would ever remember any of his life again, but Hermione would never give up hope.
Hermione walked over to a bed on the right-hand side and smiled brightly at the occupant.
"Hello Neville! How are you today?" Hermione asked, much more happily than she felt. The young man in the bed, with his round, pink face looked over at her. Instantly, Hermione's eyes filled with tears, but she suppressed them. How much he looked like the young boy she had first met on the train! And how different too.
"I'm Hermione. Do you remember me?" Hermione asked, but already knew that Neville didn't.
"Well, Neville, I just thought I'd come and have a chat with you. I even brought you some Chocolate Frogs!" Hermione sat down, and took the bars out of her bag. She laid them on the bedside table, next to the many plants, all from friends, which had been perfectly cared for.
"Harry and Ron are doing well – I'll ask them to visit you when they come home. Harry is the short, skinny one with black hair, and a lightening scar. Ron is the tall one with red hair. And Ginny – do you remember her? – she is perfectly fine, but she has a new cut on her right cheek…" Hermione continued to chatter away. Sometimes she wondered why she even came, to talk to someone who barely knew she existed. But then she would see him gazing up at her from his bed as she spoke, and her heart would break, thinking of the life Neville could have lead.
"… Look at the time! My lunch-break is nearly up. I have to go, alright?" Hermione rose, twenty minutes later, after running out of topics of interest.
"Goodbye, Neville, I hope to see you next week!" She reached for her purse and then took hold of Neville's hand, gently squeezing it. Neville's blissfully carefree face moved to look at Hermione's hand.
"See you soon, Neville," Hermione said, and exited the room. She always had to almost run from the room so that Neville wouldn't see her cry.
As she hurried down the corridor, her mind full of Neville's face, she heard a voice calling her. When she turned, she saw the nurse from the ward asking her to return. Hermione quickly rubbed her tears away with the back of her hand, and returned, slightly unsure, to the ward once again.
"He wanted to give you something."
Neville stood at the door in a blue dressing gown and shyly handed something to Hermione. It was a Chocolate Frog card. Whoever knew such a small token could give so much joy and so much pain. Suppressing her tears again, Hermione thanked Neville and kissed him chastely on the cheek.
It was only after she apperated back to her office that she looked at the card. It was Dumbledore. Her finger traced the outline of the card that was blurred by her tears. Sniffing, Hermione read the card, smiling at Flamel's name. And suddenly, like a ton of bricks, Hermione knew where she had seen the runes that puzzled her so much. She dropped the card, grabbed her cloak and disapperated.
A/N: To all of you Neville lovers – I'm sorry. And before anybody asks me, Hermione is not now, and never was, in love with him. She just feels very strongly towards him. And by the way, this is by no means the only casualty. Start guessing now!