Becoming Neville

When Neville woke up the next morning there was no warm body pressed up against him. Worried, he rolled over and saw Harry, already dressed and seated at his desk, scribbling away on a piece of parchment while Hedwig looked on with her typical detachment.

Pulling the covers up to his chest, he lay in bed and watched Harry writing. He was still thin, but his shoulders were broadening, and the fabric of his t-shirt stretched across his back. Neville wished the sleeves were shorter so he could catch a glimpse of the muscles in Harry's upper arm. Ron was growing so fast that all his clothes were tight, but Harry still wore clothes that were too big for him, and Neville wondered if he were trying to hide himself in the extra folds.

Neville himself had finally started having growth spurts over the past year. After being short and dumpy all his life, he was starting to shoot up. He was already taller than Harry, though nowhere near as tall as Ron and Dean. But his parts didn't all seem to grow at the same rate. Some parts seemed abnormally long and skinny, while other parts remained as soft and pudgy as ever. He'd never been very athletic, so his frame lacked grace or balance or substance. It felt like he stuck out at all angles, and his arms and legs never had the chance to adapt to their constantly changing lengths and sizes, making him more clumsy than ever. Even his hair seemed to grow unevenly. No one was ever going to enjoy looking at him the way he enjoyed looking at Harry. He just hoped Harry wasn't mad at him for what had happened the previous night. Neville accepted the fact that sooner or later all this practicing would have to end, but he did hope it would end on good terms. He wanted to be able to continue looking at Harry.

Harry paused in his writing and reached up to rub Hedwig's neck. He glanced toward the bed and saw Neville watching him. "You're awake."

Caught, Neville sat up. "Yeah. Only just now."

"I didn't want to go downstairs without you. Safety in numbers, and all that."

"Right. So are you working on your last will and testament?"

Harry grinned. "It can't be *that* bad. This is a letter to Ron, telling him about yesterday."

Neville ran his hands through his hair to mask his embarrassment, wondering how much Harry had told Ron. "Like what?"

"I was just writing about boating on the lake, and those people who lost their oars."

"Oh, yeah." Neville forced himself to smile.

"Look, I think it's kinda late. Remus must be back by now. Why don't you get dressed, and we'll go down? Might as well get it over with."

"Right. Sure." He climbed out of bed and gathered up his clothes before retreating to his own room to change.

Ten minutes later, he and Harry stood in the hall outside the kitchen. They could hear voices speaking inside, but couldn't make out what they were saying. Neville wasn't about to go in first, and he glanced at Harry, who steeled his expression into a practiced indifference and pushed the door open.

Remus was indeed back, sitting at the table and looking tired, while Snape leaned against the wall opposite him, arms crossed over his chest.

Sneering at their entrance, Snape drawled, "At last our fugitives have deigned to put in an appearance. I can finally take this containment charm off your morning fan mail." He flicked his wand at a red envelope floating in the air over the table. Neville winced as the furious voice of Mrs. Weasley filled the room.

"Of all the reckless, irresponsible stunts! I've never heard anything like it! Really, Harry, you're too old for this kind of thing! And Neville, I expected much better behavior from you! What were the two of you thinking? I can't bear to consider all the horrible things that might have happened! The two of you in the city alone, where all manner of people could have -- and with You Know Who -- and if they had found you...." The voice faltered for a moment, and Neville glanced quickly at Harry. Then the voice regained its indignation. "All I can say is, if you two aren't back safe and sound, I'm going to kill you! Oh, and Remus, dear, I do hope you're eating enough. You need to regain your strength. I'll send some pies round. They're just for you, though. Don't let the boys have any: they don't deserve it."

And with that, the envelope burst into flames, the ashes fluttering down to the table. As bad as it had been, Neville was grateful the howler had been from Mrs. Weasley rather than his grandmother. It was nice to know Mrs. Weasley cared that much.

Remus cleared his throat. "Harry, Neville, I think you'd better sit down." He indicated the two empty chairs across from him and directly in front of Snape, who was scowling like a gargoyle.

Neville followed Harry and sank down into the chair next to him.

"Boys, you must realize how foolish it was of you to sneak away yesterday."

"Don't mollycoddle them, Lupin," Snape rebuked, looming behind them.

Remus's eyes flicked up to Snape. "We agreed that I would handle this, Severus." He looked back down at Harry and Neville, and Neville cringed at the disappointment he saw there. "War could break out any minute now. The Death Eaters may not be able to find our headquarters, but they know we're in London. They could have found you."

"We're sorry," Harry interrupted. "We just wanted to get out of the house for a while."

"I understand that, but we have to be extremely cautious. You took an incredible risk --"

"A risk?" Snape burst in. He moved to the end of the table where he could see all three of them. "That's a serious understatement. It was sheer, irresponsible recklessness! Honestly, Potter, it's not enough for you to endanger yourself, you have to endanger Longbottom, too?"

"We just went to the park!" Harry growled, a flush of anger creeping up his neck.

"All day?" Snape thundered.

"You can't expect us to stay cooped up here with only you for company!"

Neville shrank back into his chair. Snape was going to kill them both.

The potions master sneered, his black eyes hard and cold. "How very like Black you are!"

"You're right, I am!" Harry shouted, shoving his chair back and standing up, fists clenched at his sides. "I'm *just* like Sirius, and I'm not going to let you keep me a prisoner!"

"And just like Black, you'll kill yourself with your own stubbornness!"

Stunned silence filled the room, then Harry shrieked, "HOW DARE YOU! How DARE you speak of him that way!"

"Black was a foolhardy, irresponsible menace, and he didn't care what danger he put himself or anyone else in. You're no better, Potter; you'll end just the same-"

"No!" Remus cried out, rising from his chair.

Snape turned to look at him, and to Neville's surprise his expression seemed almost sympathetic. "Lupin, you of anyone should be aware of the importance of restraining such recklessness-"

"I tried!" protested Remus. "I did try! I didn't want him to die. I tried to stop him, but he wouldn't listen to me." His voice faltered, and his gaze turned inward, as if he no longer saw any of the others in the room. "They would never listen to me, and now - now he's dead. I didn't try hard enough, and it's - it's my fault."

"It's not your fault!" Harry said. "Bellatrix Lestrange--."

Remus emphatically shook his head, as if he could shake the truth from his mind. "He should never have gone to the Ministry in the first place. They all told him he should stay, but he wanted to go after you, and--." His voice broke. "And I backed him. All those times he tried to leave the house, and I wouldn't let him. And that one time I backed him. I knew better, but I let him go." He squeezed his eyes shut.

"Lupin...," said Snape warily.

Remus swallowed hard, tried to rally himself. "No, you're right; I never stopped them when I should have. And now they're all dead, and it's my fault. But I didn't want him to die. I swear I didn't!"

He was struggling against tears now, choking, crumbling before them, clutching at the edge of the table as if he might collapse. But grief was getting the best of him. Neville glanced at Snape, who was staring at Remus in astonishment. He looked at Harry, and was shocked to see tears streaming silently down his face, his whole body trembling. This was not good. Neville knew neither of them would want to cry in front of Snape. He rose and skirted the table. "Remus, perhaps you should go lie down." He slung Remus's arm over his shoulders, but suddenly Remus's strength gave out on him and he collapsed back into his chair, dragging Neville with him.

A flicker of black, and Neville realized Snape had reached for Remus's other arm.

"Honestly, Lupin, this display is a trifle melodramatic," Snape rebuked.

Neville couldn't believe he would say such a thing. A flash of indignation shot through him, and he quietly said, "Maybe it would be better if you left, Professor."

Snape met his gaze, and Neville instinctively flinched, but he did not appear angry. In fact, Neville thought he saw a slight trace of uncertainty in Snape's eyes. Without a word, the potions master released Lupin's arm and quietly left the room.

When the door swung shut, Neville dragged a chair closer to Remus and sat down. He wasn't sure what to do.

Remus's chest heaved with the effort to keep from crying, to keep breathing. "Sirius," Remus gasped. "Sirius - I killed him."

"No!"

This from Harry, who had knelt at Remus's side. "You didn't kill him! He was your friend! It was Bellatrix Lestrange --."

"I should have stopped him, and I didn't. Now he's gone." Remus buried his face in his hands, shuddering. "God, I just want him back. I want him back."

Harry's expression crumbled, and he wrapped his arms around Remus, burying his face in Remus's shoulder. "Me too. I want him back, too."

The two of them clung together, weeping, and Neville could only watch. He'd never seen an adult cry before. It was a frightening thing, to see a grown man so helpless and broken.

It wasn't fair that Sirius Black was dead, when Harry and Remus loved him so much. He wanted to help them, but there was nothing he could do, because he couldn't bring Sirius back.

Some things even magic couldn't fix.

*****

Neville had no idea how long they remained in the kitchen like that. In the end, Harry and Remus didn't stop crying so much as they just grew exhausted. Neville somehow managed to get the two of them on their feet, and he shuffled them slowly out the door.

Snape was pacing restlessly in the hallway, his face twisted in a scowl. But he had no sharp words for them when they appeared. He merely stepped forward and slid Remus's arm around his neck. "I'll see to Lupin," he said to Neville. "You take care of Potter."

Harry managed a weak glare, but Remus said, "It's all right."

Neville and Harry followed as Snape helped Remus up the stairs. At the first floor, they stopped and watched the two men continue upward, listening to the slow footsteps until they heard a door upstairs open and close.

Harry's eyes remained fixed overhead, and Neville took his arm. "Come on," he said gently. "You should lie down."

He led Harry into his room and laid him out on the bed. He pulled off Harry's shoes, and Harry rolled over onto his side, away from Neville. Harry sniffled a bit, and Neville decided he should pretend he hadn't heard it. "I think I'll go downstairs and do some reading on my parents' medical files." He hesitated. "That's where I'll be if you need anything."

Harry nodded against the pillow, and Neville left him alone.

He'd been reading in the library for an hour or so when the door slowly entered and Harry shuffled in. His face was puffy and swollen, and his hair stuck out in all directions, but his eyes were dry.

"It wasn't Remus's fault," Harry said crossly, as if Neville had been arguing with him.

"I know."

Harry bit his lip and scowled at the stack of files on the table. Then he sighed, and his shoulders drooped. "Let me help you with that." He snagged one of the files and curled up in a chair near the window.

Neville bent his head over the file he'd been reading, but he studied Harry out of the corner of his eyes. Before long, Harry lay the file down in his lap and sat staring blankly at the covered windows. Neville turned his attention back to his work, but he glanced up every now and then to check on Harry. Harry never moved.

With Harry present, Neville found his thoughts kept drifting from his reading. His eyes moved across the pages, but he scarcely comprehended the words. Of course with all the medical terminology, not to mention the mediwizards' atrocious handwriting, Neville scarcely comprehended the files anyway. But now it seemed like so much gibberish. His eyes finally snagged on a line and didn't move for the longest time. He stared and stared at the letters, thinking that they ought to mean something to him. They seemed to keep rearranging themselves on the page, DROFITWOD, WIRD FOOD, FOR TWO DID. At last they resolved themselves into a word. A name.

Dr. Otis B. Driftwood.

His stupor vanished instantly, and he bolted upright. "Here it is!" he exclaimed, shoving the file under Harry's nose. "Look! It's not a potions ingredient. Driftwood is a person! Dr. Otis B. Driftwood. He started treating my parents in 1991."

Harry uncurled himself from his chair. "I can't believe we didn't think of that," he said as he scanned the records. "It says he specializes in the treatment of severe spell damage."

"But what do you think it means?" Neville asked. "Why would my mom have written his name?"

Harry looked up from the file and shrugged. "I don't know. But at least it gives us a place to start."