Sep 12 2008
Something In Between
Title: Something In Between
Author: dorrie6
Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters: Neville and his Gran
Rated: G
Disclaimer: The characters and universe presented in this story belong to JK Rowling.
Note: Originally posted 11/16/04 for marginalia.
*****
Something In Between
Neville set down his trunk inside the door. The ride had been long, and the train was crowded. Nobody was apparating these days, not since the Death Eaters had started abducting people out of thin air. At least on the train one had a fighting chance. He’d said his few goodbyes at the platform. Luna had come as he somehow knew she would, and Hermione, he suspected, out of duty. Harry had run up at the last moment, looking oddly lost. He supposed it was strangest for Harry in some ways, who had called no other place home.
Most of them were taking flats in London, or camping out with Harry at Grimmauld Place. With war so imminent, nobody dared look past it. They were a generation interrupted, stalled at the gate. They’d finished their NEWTS in a sort of haze. Conversations about the future were free of the usual career talk, rarely venturing further than how to continue group Defence studies and where to go after the Leaving Feast. Neville had made his decision at Christmas, Gran’s suddenly frail hand touching his arm, eyes full of fear as he’d never seen them before. It was enough to make him realize where he belonged.
Now that he was here, it seemed like a mistake, like something not quite real or not quite in the present. He could feel it starting already, the timid awkwardness of his younger self settling in like always. He pushed it back and stepped in further, feet shuffling against the hardwood floor.
“Gran?” He poked his head into her sitting room. It was empty. “Gran?” He repeated a little louder, starting up the large, creaky staircase. A sound at the end of the second floor corridor caught his attention.
She sat at the edge of his bed, surrounded by photograph albums. Her hand hovered near her temple.
“Gran?”
Her face was so old. “Child,” she said, holding out her hand.
He walked forward to take it.
“Sit down, dear.” She was gripping his hand, hard.
“How are you doing, Gran?” He took the album from her lap. A young vision of his parents gazed up at him, holding a tiny baby. His mother waved. He smiled back at her. “I love looking at them like this, don’t you?” He looked back up at Gran.
“I should have–” She pursed her lips. “Well.”
“Should have what?” He brushed a stray hair away from her forehead.
She smiled faintly, in a way Neville hadn’t ever imagined. “I don’t know. Stopped them, I suppose.” The smile faded, her face hardening into something he was more accustomed to. “I should stop you.”
He touched her cheek. “You know you don’t mean that.”
“I do mean it, boy.” She took his hand away from her face and held it along with the other. “I only know I can’t.”
He looked back to the photograph. His mother waved at him again. “Well.” He closed the album. “I’m home now.”
“Yes you are.” She let go of his hands and smoothed her robes. “Let’s get you taken care of, shall we? Tea, perhaps?” She got up from the bed. “You’ve had a long day. I’m sure–”
Neville stood. “You sit, Gran. I’ll get it.”
“Nonsense.” She gathered up the photograph albums. Neville took them from her, carrying them back to their shelves. “You’re so grown up,” she said, her voice clearer than he’d heard it in ages. “So ready to make your way.” She took his hand again, leading him to the stairs. “What does it feel like, child? An ending or a beginning?”
“I don’t know.” Neville frowned. “Neither, really. I suppose it’s something in between.”
She stopped and turned, studying his face. She nodded. “Don’t worry,” she said. “Your beginning will arrive soon enough.”
He smiled. “Not too soon, I hope.” He squeezed her hand. “C’m on, then. I’m desperate for that tea.”