The Death Eaters were bastards.

That was Neville Longbottom's first thought when they had arrived at Gringott's. People were screaming and running from the doors. Panicked shouts of, "Death Eaters!", "Run!" and "Help!" plagued his ears. At just nineteen years old, their fearful voices still tugged at his heart.

Forty-five minutes earlier, Mad-Eye Moody had burst into Grimmauld Place, electric-blue eye rolling in his head and shouting that Death Eaters were in Diagon Alley. All at once the Order had fallen into a quick and practiced routine, Neville among them.

He'd been staying there for about two years. He'd moved into one of the spare rooms the day after his grandmother's funeral. A small group of escaped Death Eaters had broken into their home. They had been looking for a revenge that could only be satisfied through the torture and death of one of The-Boy-Who-Lived close friends.

Neville watched as Bellatrix Lestrange, giggling something about an entire set, instead tortured his grandmother before his eyes. He struggled against his magical restraints as the poor woman shrieked in pain, curses and deals of revenge raining from his mouth. The only rewards he received for his courage were blows to the stomach and rippling pains through his body, courtesy of the Cruciatus Curse.

They dealt the final blow on Augusta. Bellatrix whispered a promise of returning into Neville's ear, and they left him tied to wall so he could stare at the body. A faint green glow washed upon him, the light from the Dark Mark scarring the sky above his home. He could do nothing but weep, hanging his head as tears ran grooves in his face while waiting for someone to show up and release him.

Hours passed slowly, every one more unbearable than the previous, until the Order arrived.

The memory plagued him every day. As if he needed another reason to hate the Death Eaters, he'd gotten one handed to him on a silver platter.

It was incredible, he thought as he followed Remus and Tonks into Gringotts: the fact that Death Eaters were attacking such a public place. An offensive such as this hadn't been seen since they had descended upon Hogwarts all those years ago. Usually, they delighted in focused attacks on single families or stores. The wizard's bank was a big step up.

The scene before his eyes was horrible. Counters were shattered and chunks of marble were spread throughout the lobby, the air thick with their dust. People lay on the ground; bleeding, dying, dead. Children could be heard sobbing and screaming over the bodies of their parents and siblings. Neville's stomach tightened and he felt the sour taste of vomit in the back of his throat.

"It's a slaughter," someone whispered next to him. He looked over and saw Hermione, tears welling in her eyes and hands covering her mouth.

In the middle of the chaos were - at least – two dozen Death Eaters. Their faces masked and hoods pulled down, they threw curses and spells in every direction, sparing no one.

Moody stepped out in front of the group, raised his wand, and shouted "Stupefy!" A bolt of red light shot from the end of his wand and at the group of Death Eaters. It caught one of them in the back; he screamed and fell to the floor. Almost as one, they all looked to the entrance. They stood there for a moment, and then scattered.

In a practiced grace, the members of the Order began to spread out and began sending spells. The air soon thickened with shouts. A Death Eater stood before a mother and a crying boy, wand out. She was writhing in pain, and he was laughing at her. Anger burned in Neville's stomach, creeping up through his chest. He ran forward a few yards, planted his feet, pointed his own wand at the standing man, and shouted: "Relashio!"

The Death Eater was thrown sideways as the torrent of hot air from Neville's wand hit him. He slammed into a pillar and fell to the ground.

"Run!" he yelled to the little boy. He kept his wand pointed at the fallen man and positioned himself between him and the woman, who was lying on the floor apparently unconscious.

"But what about Mom?" the boy asked, his voice watery.

"I'll get her," Fred's voice said. Neville looked over and saw the twins. George stood at Fred's back, tossing spells at the enemy as his brother bent down to help the mother. Fred waved his wand over the woman, enchanting her feather-light, and picked her up. "C'mon," he said to the little boy, straightening up. The two of them turned and ran to the exit.

The Death Eater's mask had fallen off, revealing his face. It took a moment, but Neville soon recognized the man as Avery. He stirred slightly, moaning. Blood caked the side of his head, clinging to his hair.

"Incarcerous," Neville said. Ropes appeared and wrapped themselves around the semi-conscious man, binding his legs, arms, and shoulders.

"Watch out!"

Neville didn't have time to react before he was shoved from behind as "Crucio"rang from someone's mouth. George's agonized cry hit his ears as he hit the floor. Heart racing, he looked back and saw the ginger-haired boy on his knees, jaw clenched, body shuttering and fingers digging helplessly into the marble floor.

Heart racing, he scrambled to his feet. He pointed at the hooded figure who appeared to be torturing George. "Cr -" His voice caught in his throat. He swallowed harshly and shook his head. "Reducto!"

An indescribable sound erupted from the woman: a short scream over a disgusting crack-shatter-squish. She crumpled into a lifeless heap.

He didn't have to see if George was alright. A section of wall next to Neville burst into a cloud of debris and he threw himself down.

Bright jets of green and red flew in the air above Neville's head. He crouched lower behind a pile of rubble that was once a statue, white knuckles gripping his wand. The air was heavy with a mixture of maniacal laughter and tortured screams, ringing off the walls and melting into each other.

Every Crucio that fell from someone's lips sent a shiver up his spine. They were spoken from both sides, a fact that Neville wasn't exactly proud of. He knew it was necessary. When thrown from the wands of the D.A., it was effective in slowing the Death Eaters; the members of the Order were able to fully take them down.

Neville couldn't bring himself to use it. Staring into the sunken eyes of the opposition, wand out, he always faltered. Too many times in this battle, in this war, he'd been amidst the fighting and bloodshed and he'd stop, the Cruciatus Curse just on the tip of his tongue. And because of his hesitance, he'd end up on the wrong end. Pain rippling through his twitching body as screams tore from his throat. Every time, every time, his mind found itself thinking of his parents, in their beds at St. Mungo's, oblivious to the world around him. To the wall in his room where he pinned up all the Drooble gum wrappers.

It terrified him: the thought of losing his memories. He looked over at Harry, Hermione, and everyone else fighting. How could he ever survive not knowing them?

He was jolted out of his trance as another chunk of marble half a foot from his head erupted into pieces. He turned from the flying debris, eyes squeezed shut. Stupid, Longbottom, he thought. Let your mind wander.

He raised his head a few inches above the battered torso of some nameless wizard to size up the scene.

Luna let out a bone-rattling scream, her body lurching. She grabbed the counter for support, legs shaking. Almost instantly blood started to bloom from her shoulder, covering her arm and chest. She dropped her wand and clutched her shoulder with her left arm, falling to her knees, eyes screwed shut in pain. Another tortured cry tore from her throat.

"Oh no. Oh god. No." Neville whispered. Forgetting about the spells and curses dancing in the air above him, he scrambled to his feet and started running towards her. He felt some spell or another breathe on the back of his neck, but he ignored it. His eyes were filled with the sight of Luna on her side, writhing in pain, and it was all he cared about.

He let his wand fall to the ground as he dropped to his knees beside her. "No, Luna, please." He took her and laid her on the ground. He ripped apart the slashed fabric of her shirt and let out a short sob. A foot long gash ran across her chest, at least two inches deep. "Oh, God," he whispered again. He ran a trembling hand over her body, panic seeping into his head.

A section of the already crumbling counter burst into a cloud of dust a few feet away. Neville threw his body on top of Luna in hopes to protect her. A peal of high pitched laughter stung his ears. He recognized it immediately. He looked over his friend and saw Bellatrix Lestrange smiling at them.

"Well, if it isn't the Longbottom boy. How darling of you: protecting that poor girl." She giggled, the sound sending tremors up Neville's spine.

As best as he could, he gathered Luna into his arms and shuffled back behind an upright piece of marble counter. He clutched her to his chest, breathing heavily, his head resting back on the cold stone.

"It's useless, child," she cackled. "She's as good as dead."

Luna was trembling on his lap, her breathing ragged and shallow. A thin sheen of sweat coated her face and faintly bluing lips. "Oh m...my god, Neville," she coughed. "Oh, god, it hurts. I don't want to go. I don't want to leave." Drops of blood clung to the corners of her mouth.

"I know, I know. Its okay, you'll be okay. You're fine." He ran a hand through her golden hair, rusted with her own blood. "I'm just going to get my wand. I'll fix you. You'll be alright." He shifted to gently take her from his lap, but her hand weakly clasped the front of his shirt.

"No! No, please." She hacked again, speckling the front of his already stained shirt. "Don't leave me alone." She barely choked out the last word before she was taken by another bout of moist coughing.

Neville's heart raced. "Okay, okay." He grabbed her hand and took it in his. "I'll stay here." He looked around for help. "Remus!" he screamed, "help! Harry, Hermione, someone; please help!"

Her blue eyes were already dulling, melting from a shade of ocean blue to icy gray. The grip on his hand began to weaken.

"No Luna, you've got to stay here; stay with me. You've got to hold on a few more minutes. Some one's coming." He shifted to the side, trying to see if any one even could. Across the room, Neville saw Ginny across the lobby, ducking curses and throwing them back. "Ginny! Ginny, you've got to help me; Luna's hurt!"

For a moment their eyes locked, and she understood. With a small nod in his direction, she threw herself down as a stream of blue missed her head by inches.

"Do you think she's disappointed in me?"

Neville's head snapped back to the girl in his lap. "Who?" He bent his neck down, Luna's voice barely above a whisper.

"I heard her voice when we were in the Ministry my fourth year, behind that curtain. My mother's. I missed it; I miss the way it sounds so much." Her eyes rimmed with tears, her lips quivering. She let out a sob, her body shuddering in pain.

"No no no no. Don't get upset. Your mother loves you, you don't have to worry about that." His hand found her hair again and he slid his fingers through her golden locks.

She swallowed and looked him in his eyes. "I hope you're right. I don't want to get there and have her hate me," she said weakly.

He pulled her farther into his embrace and rested his cheek on the top of her head, closing his eyes. One arm supporting her; the other hand still winding through her hair. "Don't think that. She has no reason to hate you; to be disappointed in you. You're so strong, and you fight so hard. I don't think anything could maker her prouder of you."

"Oh my God. Neville, what happened?"

He opened his eyes and saw Ginny looking down at then. Her eyes widened as she took in the scene.

"Ginny, thank God. You've got to heal her. She was hit and it's so deep and I tried to get my wand but she didn't want me to leave her. You've got to help."

The red-head knelt down beside them. "Neville, she's gone."

"What?" He looked down at Luna. Her face was pale and relaxed; her eyes half open and looking at nothing. The blood around her mouth was tacky under his fingers.

"No." He shook her gently, gently tapping her cheeks; they were cool and dry.

Ginny put her hand on his wrist. "Neville, she's gone," she repeated.

The tears didn't come as he expected them to. His heart began to flutter in his chest, like a bat trapped in a church bell. He set the dead girl down on the floor, a knot tying itself around the pit in his stomach.

"Can you fix the gash, at least?"

Wordlessly, she flicked her wand and the wound closed itself, the flawless flesh still plastered with dried blood. Neville reached out and closed Luna's eyes. Had she not been covered in her own blood, he would have sworn she was sleeping.

"Could you get me my wand, too? Please."

"Accio wand." His wand glided through the air over the broken counter. Ginny grabbed it and handed it to him, handle out. The wood was cool in his palm.

"I'm not even twenty yet," he said quietly, looking at Ginny. "I've been here just shy of two decades and I've seen more death than most people see in their whole lives."

"I know." She chewed her lower lip, eyes glistening.

"It can't end like this."

"This isn't the end Neville."

"Yes, it is," he scoffed. "I know it is."

"How?"

"Because…" he lowered his eyes to stare at his blood-coated hands, "I don't care enough to be fighting. I've been fighting the battle for nearly five years now. Fighting with everything I have. And right now, I'm sitting here and everyone else is risking their lives, and I'm sitting here because I don't care if I die or not. This is the last stand."

Ginny shook her head. "No, we'll keep fighting. We'll keep fighting until Voldemort is gone."

"He's already won."

"Come out, children. Come out and accept your death." Bellatrix's taunts bit into his ears. "Come out, boy, and I'll reunite you with your dear grandmother."

"Bitch." The word was spit from Neville's mouth as he stood up, wand held in a white-knuckled grip. Before he could open his mouth, an "Avada Kedavra" was shouted from their left and a jet a green light hit the woman as she turned in surprise. She hit the marble floor with a sickening thud.

Ron stood next to a pillar, his whole body shaking. He fell to his knees and was sick. His retching was the only sound in the lobby, bouncing off the walls. Even after all these years, killing made him physically ill.

Neville helped Ginny to her feet and they made their way over to her brother. They sidestepped smashed counters and a vast number of bodies. Some he recognized as members of the Order or as the enemy; most, sadly, he didn't recognize at all.

When they reached him, Ron had his back to the pillar, breathing heavily and wiping the sweat from his face. "Oh good, you're okay."

Neville felt as though pure rage had replaced his blood and was now pumping through his veins. He reached down with his left hand, grabbed the front of Ron's robes and pulled him to his feet. His right arm pulled back, hand balled into a fist and still tightly clenching his wand. Before he could stop himself, Neville's fist connected neatly with the side of Ron's face. His head snapped back on his neck, accompanied by a sickening crack.

"Oh my God," Ginny gasped, "Neville, what the hell is the matter with you!"

"You had no right to kill her!" he nearly shouted. He pulled his arm back again, but Ron buried his own fist into Neville's stomach. With the wind knocked out of him, Neville let go of Ron's robes, doubling over and gasping for breath.

"I save your life, and you hit me?" Ron glowered down at him. "What the bloody hell is your problem?"

"She was mine. She was mine to deal with." He straightened, wincing. "She didn't torture your family."

"Oh, so next time, I'll just let someone kill you. Is that what you'd like?" Ron stepped in closer to the other boy, red creeping into his cheeks and ears.

Neville felt his hands clench into angry fists. "I'd like you to have the decency to let me deal with my own matters!"

"Hey!" Ginny yelled. "Stop fighting, the both of you." She shoved her way between them both and glared at each in turn.

"She wasn't yours to deal with," Neville growled over the top of Ginny's head.

"Grow up and get over it," Ron muttered, setting his jaw and rolling his eyes.

"You wouldn't say that to Harry if you'd just killed Voldemort," Neville shot back, his voice loudening.

"Shut your mouth!" He tried to push Ginny out of the way, his eyes flashing.

"I said stop it!" Ginny elbowed them with all her might, managing to push them apart.

The two boys stood silently glaring at for a moment, sizing the other up.

Neville inhaled deeply; shakily. He didn't want to deal with this. Not now. Not ever, really.

He looked down at his hands and saw he was still covered in Luna's blood. Swallowing against the urge to vomit, Neville pointed his wand at his left arm and murmured "Tergeo." The blood vanished from his skin. He did the same to his right.

"Where is everyone?" he asked, looking at Ron. He hadn't even noticed that they lobby had emptied itself; that there was silence instead of yells and screams.

"The Death Eaters ran into the back tunnels, so we went after them. Tonks noticed that you three weren't there, so she sent me back to get you." Ron made a face and turned his head, spitting out a blood-coated tooth. He shot Neville a look of displeasure.

"Where's Luna?"

Neville looked away, the grip on his wand tightening.

Ginny chewed her lower lip. "She was wounded: a deep gash in her chest. She didn't make it."

"No." Ron balled his hands into fists, his knuckles crackling. "God, I should have gotten here sooner."

"It's not your fault, it's mine," Neville interjected. "I didn't even realize that you guys had left, and I just sat and waited for help as she bled out in my arms."

"Stop feeling sorry for yourselves," Ginny snapped. "She died and it was no one's fault. There are casualties on both sides of a war and there's nothing you can do to stop it. We should go and help out in the back tunnels."

"But… what about Luna?" Neville turned as if to get her, but Ron stopped him.

"No, Ginny's right. We'll get her when we come back. Right now, the other members of the Order need our help more than she does."

And with that he turned and led the way back to the battle, the other two following close behind him.