Enjoy!
We walked, his hand still rubbing mine, and took small steps toward the great hall. No one knew where Harry was, but Ron and Hermione were sitting together, alone, whispering secrets no one else knew.
Neville seemed quiet, as he usually was, and the night threatened to take him away still. I had to remind myself that we were only halfway through You-Know-Who's plight against the rebelling.
And then we heard another announcement from him, his awful voice echoing up and down the blank corridors, the people shrieking, falling against each other, but I couldn't even hear what the awful voice was saying.
When I was a little girl, my mother would put on old records and dance in the living room, the stereo rippling out songs that sounded like crying- with slow music and deep voices singing about heartbreak. These nights I would hide behind the doorframe and wish that my father were home to help her. She would be swaying and laughing a little to herself, and then would fall and sleep on the carpet. Once I was sure she was asleep, I would run across with my bare feet and curl up on her arm, gripping it to make sure she didn't leave. My father would find us there, and he would always cry when he did, as if he knew she had been listening to sad love songs without him. The songs themselves came to me standing in the Great Hall.
The sound of my mother crying; Harry's voice in the Hog's Head those years ago; determined to do something- the modesty and beauty of how simply he wanted to help us. I fell backwards into Neville to find that he was leaning onto me as well. We slid down the wall and sat there together, forbidding tears to fall lest we look weak when You-Know-Who was coming. Because coming he was.
People were walking quickly toward the entrance- to see our hero fallen where he was and I heard Neville murmuring about it being his fault.
"Neville." I clasped his hand and stood. "Don't. Please. You're leaving, don't try and pretend because I know you. I know you I know you I need you I need you. I need you."
He stood up, and numbness radiated from his skin- once so warm, it was now ghostly.
"Don't leave."
I walked with him to the entrance to see how awful and small Harry looked. And I didn't hear a word of the victory speech because Neville was tightening and he was going to shoot forward- so I concentrated on keeping him here. I hung to his arm, grounding him, standing against his leaning body. Until he righted himself and suddenly, I was left clutching air and he was standing before Voldemort. Nothing between them but air…
I let out a breath and started crying quietly. Neville was going to die right there. And his voice would be as ancient as Harry's was now. Too many young men.
And suddenly; my mother. A clear image of her was on my mind, blinding everything else- and I tried to get rid of her. No, I don't want to see you. You're dead. You're dead. You're dead.
Someone was gripping my hand so hard it hurt and I was wheeling, tears pouring from the eyes that could see nothing but her. Someone kept me steady until I stopped breathing too fast and then I turned to see their face. I was hoping that Susan would smile back at me but it wasn't her face there.
Seamus, his arms grasping my shoulders.
I bit my lip as hard as I could and looked back to where Neville was covered in something burning. Seamus's arms didn't go away until everyone was screaming and I didn't know if it was in my head or out of it.
When I looked back to where Neville had been, he was gone.