There weren't many things he was good at really. He struggled with so much, caused his Professors grief here and there, recieved owls from home often giving him advice on how to be better and how to not shame the family futher...it was those owls which hurt the most really, although he tried not to show it. He always tried his best, his mind just seemed to jumble everything in his mind and made it all confusing! That was all...maybe if someone had been there to sit down with him and go through a few spells.
But he couldn't think like that, because he had no parents. It would be what they would have done for him, right? It wasn't like he could expect anyone else to do their job for them, as well as their own, whatever that may be. So he just had to continue on himself like always, and he would. He'd get better one day, be promised!

All it took was practise and lots of it. Nothing really came easily to him (except for Herbology) but once he had perfected something from practise he was usually not too bad. He was able to conduct spells and transfiguration well enough eventually...just a few weeks after everyone else. He could have been a slow learner perhaps, that's what his Grandmother said anyway, but at least he wasn't a Squib.
"You're as good as one sometimes." his grandmother moaned, "You're lucky your father isn't here to see this"
That was what hurt the most, admittedly. That he wasn't good enough for his parents, that he was a disgrace to their memory. He had to be good, he just had to so he could...at least make his parents proud of how he had been without them once they were better. Because they were going to get better you know, it was only a matter of time. He knew that seeing them every weekend helped, and soon Mum may even remember him from the day before one weekend...maybe Dad would actually talk to him as well. Oh, they had shared a few words, but no where near as much as what his mother liked to say to him...

Maybe if he was better as a wizard...his parents would want to get better. Maybe they'd try harder. Maybe they would realise the successful wizard that was coming to see them so often was their son, and they'd come back to him. He would have to...rid the world of Voldemort to become the worthy...but for now...

Neville checked his shoes one last time (a mark of preparing himself to do good work. Check, check and double check, the same as practice, practice and more practise) and then flicked his wand to begin the music. With closed eyes and hands raised as if to rest on a hip and with a clasped hand, Neville began to move once more, and dance perfectly.