The Courtship of Neville Longbottom

Sweat dripped from Neville's brow and slowly trickled down his face. The urge to wipe the droplet away was the last thing to cross Neville's mind as he stood, frozen. He could see Harry talking. Harry's face looked confused but there was an eerie calm in his green eyes. Neville watched Harry's lips move; however he was unable to hear what he was saying because of a dull roaring in Neville's ears. The roar grew louder and louder, a screaming silence in Neville's head. Still, he remained frozen, a statue with his wand at the ready. His body began to tense, like a coiled spring. Neville's attention was focused on one heavy-lidded woman. He wasn't frozen in fear, he was frozen with rage.

A hissing sound filled his ears. Reluctantly, Neville tore his attention away from the woman and began to turn his head towards the sound's origin. A foot quickly stomped on his own and he winced. The pain snapped him out of his trance as Neville realized that the hissing was actually Hermione whispering.

"...Harry's signal," Neville heard her saying. "Smash shelves." Out of the corner of his eye Neville could see Luna nodding slightly. Neville began to nod his head as well and was rewarded with another kick from Hermione. He blushed in pain. Luckily, whatever Harry was saying was keeping the Death Eaters occupied.

"So he wanted me to come and get it, did he? Why?" Neville heard Harry ask Lucius Malfoy. Neville never heard Lucius's reply, for at that moment, Luna Lovegood began to whisper to him.

"Psst," she said softly. Neville strained his eyes to look in Luna's direction. He didn't want to risk moving and catching the Death Eater's attention, or worse, Hermione's.

"Smash the shelves on Harry's signal, right?" Luna said in the smallest whisper.

"Yes," Neville managed to softly say.

"Good luck, Neville," Luna whispered. Neville began to wonder why Luna would risk jeopardizing what was possibly their only chance to escape just to wish him luck.

"NOW!!" Harry bellowed, and Neville did have any more time to think about anything. The rushing roaring sound filled his ears. He heard Ron, Hermione, Luna, and Ginny scream out reductor curses, which hit the shelves on either side of the two groups. Neville watched as his own wand, unbidden leveled at the heavy-lidded woman. He felt his mouth form two very different words as the rushing sound was accompanied by her maniacal laughter.

"AVADA KEDAaaaa..." Neville's breath came out in a whoosh. He sat up in his bed, breathing heavily and sweating profusely, his arm outstretched in front of him.

"Avada....avada..." he gasped as tears streamed from his eyes.

Slowly, the cool night air of the dormitory began to hit his face, Neville began to wake up, realizing that he was not in the bowels of the Department of Mysteries, but in his own dormitory in Gryffindor Tower. As he became more aware, he could hear Ron's soft snoring and Seamus's loud wheezing. Breathing out, Neville wiped his errant locks of damp hair from his forehead.

"Bellatrix Lestrange," Neville whispered into the dark air. His body began to tremble with emotion. Bellatrix was responsible for the condition of his parents. She had ruined his family. She was ultimately loyal to You-Know-Who and this was what made her more terrifying than any other Death Eater. Anyone who understood his situation would feel that Neville was completely justified in wanting to see her dead, and would even understand Neville's desire to kill her himself.

Neville began to shake harder. Bellatrix scared him, but what scared him more was his own capacity for anger, for emotion. He had wanted to kill someone. He had woken up with the Unforgivable Curse on his lips and his arm outstretched.

Tremors of feat continued to wrack his body. Neville frowned and scowled, sitting up straighter in his bed. His grandmother was right to be forever disappointed in him. He couldn't even muster the courage to talk to a girl he liked, never mind take on Bellatrix Lestrange.

Neville sighed, disgusted with himself. He was afraid, always. He didn't want to hurt anyone, didn't want to upset anybody. If Neville hadn't been in such a rush to judge himself, he would have realized that maybe not being so eager to commit murder might be a good quality. As it was, Neville was too angry, too disgusted, and too repulsed. He groped around in the dark for the nearest projectile, which happened to be one of his empty planters, and threw it, with all of his strength, against a wall. He sat, staring and breathing heavily, at the broken pieces of pottery on the floor.

"Wasgoin' on?" Seamus Finnigan woke with a start. Dean Thomas also sat up, rubbing his eyes.

"Nothing," Neville mumbled. "I just knocked over a Herbology planter."

"Blimey!" exclaimed Seamus. "Why the hell do you have to be so clumsy all the time!?" Dean too, glowered at Neville before turning over to fall back asleep.

Neville sighed and began to pick up the broken pieces of pottery. The mess would have bothered him too much to fall asleep anyway.