lostatoad (lostatoad) wrote,
lostatoad
lostatoad


Neville walked gruffly down the hallway of the fourth floor of St. Mungo's, on his way to see his father one final time. The Healers had contacted him with updates as Neville recovered from his own encounter, and his father's case seemed even less promising than his mother's had. It didn't matter though, his mother was dead and he would soon see his father out of his misery.

"Neville, wait up!"

Damn.  He'd almost made it.

Emma had been near-stalking him for the last few days.  She seemed to be very interested in what had caused his breakdown.  He wasn't sure why, since she had a job of her own and Seamus had recently asked if she would like to take over his club, a matter she'd been considering in her spare, non-stalking time.  He'd not wished to talk about it, and had attempted to make it clear that when he did want to discuss it, it most likely would not be with her.

"I thought I told you to stay home," he said, his voice almost a growl.

"And you became my father... when?" she asked, putting her hands on her hips.

"Don't you have a job?"

"I'm worried about you, Neville," she said, her features softening, "You don't talk, you don't eat, you quit your job, and you broke up with your girlfriend of literal YEARS."

"I thought I told you I didn't care what your opinion of the matter was?"

"Are you sure you didn't recieve the kiss?" she asked, scowling, "because the Neville Longbottom I used to know had a soul."

Neville's face dropped in shock, before it was quickly replaced with rage, "Fine.  You want to know what's going on?  I'll show you."  He grabbed her by the upper arm and dragged her down the hall.  He stopped before a large door and pushed it open, revieling a man tied up to many machines in one bed and a vacant bed to his left.  Emma didn't have to look to far to find out who she was looking at, all she had to see was the 'Longbottom' written at the foot of his bed.

"Merlin, Neville... is that your-"

"It's my father," Neville cut in, stuffing his hands into his pockets.  "And he's dying."

"And this bed was-"

"My mother's.  She died a few weeks ago," Neville bit out, getting a little choked up, "They were tortured when I was a baby.  I've never known them in their sane minds," he informed her, "but it's alright.  Soon no one will be able to hurt them again."

"And that's why you were outside that day... your mum had died, and you were trying to think?"

Neville looked to the floor and nodded, "I'm an orphan."  He laughed a bit bitterly, "I've never known my parents, but I still don't want to lose them..."

"Oh," Emma said, walking around to hug him, holding him tight around his middle.  "I understand." She held him there for a few moments, before pulling away and flattening out his hair, trying to find something to do with herself so that she wouldn't have to look him in the eye, "So, um... when are they...?"

"Today," Neville said, stepping away from her and pulling up a chair, "and I'd really like it if you wouldn't stay."

"Alright."  She nodded, turning to leave.

"But... could you be home when I get back?"

Emma nodded, "Yeah," she held in a breath, "but could you, uh, come right home?  So you don't get sick again...?"

Neville rose from his chair and walked over by her, putting his hands on her shoulders, nodding his head.  Emma stood up on her tiptoes and kissed him gently on his cheek.  He grabbed the sides of her face and kissed her on the lips.

"Thanks."



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