He hated being useless. Sometimes he tried so hard, he felt like he was going to explode. How could someone try so hard, and still fail? How was that possible? What about all those books and films and talks and stuff about how you should always reach for the stars, that anything was possible if you wanted it bad enough?
But Neville was useless. He had no use or talent or skill or anything. That's what hurt him the most. The way that he was never going to improve. He was never going to be able to avenge his parents. He was never going to make Hermione see him as more than a charity. He was never going to be able to fight in the war, alongside warriors like Harry or Ron.
He was never going to amount to anything.
All he was ever going to do was disappoint his grandmother.
All he was ever going to do was build himself up false hope, and then disappoint himself.
He tried to laugh it off. He tried to not think about it that much. But how could he ignore Snape's silky mutterings in his ear? How could he ignore Ron's innocent sniggers? How could he pretend he didn't see the sympathy in Harry's expression? How could he feel good about himself, when he had no choice but to accept Hermione's help?
There was to be another Yule Ball in seventh year! Who was Neville going to bring? This wasn't like fourth year. Ginny's was grown up now, she wouldn't dare go with him again. Not one girl would go with him, for fear of their population. He was a joke. He'd never even kissed a girl before. When would he get the chance?
He wasn't pretty to look at, was he? Chubby, freckly, with wonky teeth and a goofy smile. He knew that looks were not everything but what else did he have to offer in their place? There was no sparking personality underneath the flab. Sometimes he struggled for something interesting to say, even to his friends. He knew no funny jokes, and he couldn't make them up on the spot.
Why? Why was he like this? Why did everything he do, say, experience have to be so damn awkward? How did some people have so much, and others so little? How was that fair?
All he had was plants. He knew all about them. But how many heroes did you know, that's biggest skill was gardening?
He had one flower he grew in a pot on his window still. Just one. His favourite. The flower was pink and pretty. It hadn't opened up yet. It hadn't bloomed. In his books, they told him that the flower had minimal chance of doing so, at this stage. Neville continued to live in hope. He'd called the unopened flower Angela. After his mum.
Because, despite everything, Neville still had hope.
He didn't know it yet, but that was his greatest talent.
When Hermione, Harry and Ron started to lose their hope, unwillingly Neville would help them find their hope again.
Sorry, i'm sick and bored. Please review.
