The Wand by blackhairedweasley
Epilogue -- Moving On
“So, Neville,” Harry said, wincing and holding his chest, “We think that the wand might be a Horcrux.”
It's been six days since Ron was killed. Seven since the attack on the Leaky Cauldron. Neville's mind was racing. He knew he wanted to be in the Order, but there was so much he never even imagined. The thought of splitting your soul into separate pieces was an idea too frightening for Neville to even imagine.
They were in the Hospital Wing. Before him was Harry, sitting up in his bed, next to Hermione, ever still puffy-eyed and silent.
“You knew this the whole time?” Neville asked. Harry nodded through a sigh.
“But you see,” Harry continued, “the diary, the ring and the locket have all been destroyed. If this is another one, all we have to find is Hufflepuff's cup, then all that's left is his snake, and then him!”
“Well, how can we tell if it is or not?” Neville asked.
“We usually ask Dumbledore,” Hermione said weakly. Neville's eyes went wide.
“Dumbledore?”
“Yes,” Harry said quickly, “there's a portrait of him hanging in the Headmaster's office.”
“And because a portrait can give information that its occupant knows, even if they're dead,” Hermione continued, “Dumbledore's portrait has been able to tell us how to test everything we find.”
Neville sighed and leaned back in his chair.
“What happened to the two Death Eaters?” Harry asked.
“One of them was the one who attacked the Leaky Cauldron,” Neville said, Hermione and Harry glancing at each other. “He's being held at Azkaban for questioning. The other one “ the one who... who killed Ron “ He's dead.”
Hermione let her tears fall silently from her face. Harry said nothing.
Ron's funeral would be in the next few days, though Neville had no idea where. He wasn't in a place to ask. Looking at the two of them, Neville could see how much the loss affected them. It was as if they were incomplete. It wasn't as if a friend had been lost; it wasn't even like someone they loved was gone. It was a part of themselves that had gone. Something had gone missing behind their eyes. Feeling a sharp jab in his abdomen, Neville wondered if something had gone missing from inside of him as well.
His Grandmother's funeral had been the day before. He thought he had been afraid of the woman for most of his life, but if there was one thing he felt for her, it was respect. She raised him, looked after him, and did so with as much love as she could. Looking back on it, he realized she knew the things that meant the most to him. The most obvious was the fact that every Christmas was spent at St. Mungo's, despite the fact that she hated to see her son in that way. She was proud, of course, but it caused her more pain than she would ever let on.
But she knew what it meant to me, he thought, to see them at Christmas.
He didn't notice when he had stood and began to walk from the Hospital Wing, but when his arm raised itself to open the door his mind found reality again. He slipped quickly out the door, leaned his back to the wall outside, and in the empty corridor slid the length of it down until he sat on the floor, his eyes burning.
He hadn't noticed the doors open after him, but not long after he left, Neville felt a pair of small arms surround him. He vaguely noticed that Hermione had pulled him into an embrace. He also felt a wet spot on his shirt as he realized his eyes had blurred and grown hot. He wrapped his arms around her as he felt his own tears fall into her wild bushy hair.
Neville wasn't sure how long they stayed that way. It wasn't until they heard the sounds of hushed sobs mingled with hurried footsteps down the next corridor that they stood. Hermione had just dried her eyes when the remaining Weasleys rounded the corner. The woman Neville guessed was Molly Weasley, Ron's mother rushed forward to Hermione, bursting to tears along the way. It surprised Neville, however, that Hermione was not crying with her. Perhaps she just didn't have any tears left.
Neville then looked at the amount of tear-streaked sullen faces. Two older brothers with noticeably scarred faces, one accompanied by a beautiful wife gasping tears. Beside them stood the twins Fred and George, both trying to support Ron's younger sister Ginny.
Mrs. Weasley was saying something to Hermione through her tears, Mr. Weasley doing his best to hold his wife “ and himself “ steady. Through this, Neville's mind stirred. He suddenly felt like he was intruding on something he shouldn't be a part of.
Without really thinking about it, Neville began to walk away. He wasn't sure where he was going; perhaps to the Gryffindor common room. Maybe the Astronomy Tower. Before he could even decide, he felt the arm of his robes pull back from him.
Neville turned and found Hermione again, this time she spoke in not a whisper, but a much stronger voice, albeit unsteady.
“Where are you going?” she asked. Neville couldn't answer. There was a small hole forming in the bottom of his abdomen.
“I just...” he began, “thought you lot wanted to be alone.” Hermione blinked, a confused look on her face. Neville sighed apologetically. He didn't know what to do at all.
“Neville,” Hermione said, “you don't have to do anything. You don't have to say anything at all if you don't want to.” She took his hand. “Would you please stay with us?”
Neville said nothing. He felt a long burn run from the hole in his stomach up his esophagus to his throat, then let it out in a long breath. He realized he was being led back to the Hospital Wing. Before he knew it, he was being pulled into the first hug Mrs. Weasley had ever given him.
He fell back into the chair he had vacated before, and felt Hermione's hand rest upon his shoulder as she handed him a glass of water before she resumed her place next to Harry. Neville knew he had a lot to do ahead of him. He needed to find a place to live, maybe a job. It would be a lot harder without Gran. But Neville resigned to the fact that all he needed right now was a drink of water.
Looking up, he met Hermione's eyes one last time, and took a sip.