Gryffindor Family

The sun was setting outside the Hogwarts castle, casting long shadows through the windows of the Gryffindor common room. The usual hum of activity was subdued, as if the air itself was holding its breath. The fire crackled softly in the hearth, sending flickers of light dancing across the walls. But Neville Longbottom, sitting in one of the armchairs by the fire, seemed to be lost in his own world, his face ashen, his eyes unfocused. He sat in silence, his fingers clenched around a small, worn piece of parchment. It was an old photograph, one of his parents, the ones he'd lost when he was just a baby. The anniversary of their death was today.

It was a painful day for Neville every year, a day he never truly knew how to navigate. The memories were foggy, distant, but the grief was still sharp and unyielding, a constant ache that never truly dulled. He had learned, over the years, how to carry it with him, but on days like today, the weight felt unbearable. It was a weight that he had to bear alone, even though his friends never failed to offer their support. The truth was, Neville didn’t know how to let anyone in on a day like this. Grief, for him, was a solitary thing. But as the clock ticked on, the pain in his chest grew more pronounced, and the walls he’d built to protect himself from it began to crack.

Ginny Weasley noticed the shift in Neville almost immediately. She had always been attuned to the emotions of the people around her, and she could see that something was off. It wasn’t the typical brashness of his usual demeanor, nor was it his usual nervous energy. Today, Neville seemed quieter, withdrawn, his usual warmth replaced by a coldness that made her heart ache for him. Ginny had seen him struggle with his parents’ death before, but this felt different. There was something in the air—a heaviness—that told her he wasn’t just putting on his usual brave face. He was holding something back, something that he hadn’t yet found the strength to confront.

She glanced over at Harry, who was sitting with Ron and Hermione, but she knew she needed to talk to Neville first. Harry’s understanding of grief was deep, perhaps deeper than anyone’s, but Neville... Neville wasn’t the type to reach out for help. Ginny knew that if she didn’t take the first step, the silence would only grow between them.

Ginny stood up, brushing her fingers through her red hair as she walked over to Neville. She sat down beside him, her movements gentle, giving him space to acknowledge her presence or not, depending on how he felt.

“Hey,” she said softly, her voice laced with quiet concern. “You okay?”

Neville didn’t respond right away, his eyes still fixed on the photograph in his hands. For a moment, Ginny was uncertain whether he even heard her. But then, slowly, he lowered the photograph, his eyes shifting towards her. There was a vulnerability there that Ginny hadn’t seen before—a rawness that made her heart tighten.

“I... I’m fine,” Neville muttered, his voice a little too shaky to be convincing.

Ginny didn’t push him. Instead, she just stayed beside him, offering him the quiet space he needed. She wasn’t going to force him to speak, but she wasn’t going to let him bottle it all up, either. So she simply stayed there, letting the silence speak for her, her presence a constant reminder that she wasn’t going anywhere.

After a few moments, Harry, who had noticed Ginny’s subtle intervention, stood up quietly from his seat and made his way over to them. He wasn’t sure if Neville was ready to talk, but Harry knew firsthand the importance of simply being there for someone when they were grieving. He had learned that lesson the hard way, with his own grief over Sirius and his parents. There were times when talking helped, and there were times when just sitting in silence was enough. Today, Harry could see that Neville needed the latter.

“You know, Neville,” Harry said quietly as he approached, “I understand how you’re feeling.”

Neville’s gaze flickered to Harry, but he didn’t meet his eyes. He didn’t want to talk about it, not now. Not with anyone. But Harry wasn’t going to let him pull away this time.

“It’s okay to grieve differently, you know?” Harry continued, his voice gentle but firm. “You don’t have to go through it alone, and you don’t have to be strong every minute of the day. Some days are harder than others. And that’s okay.”

Ginny’s heart swelled at Harry’s words. He always knew the right thing to say when it came to matters of the heart. He had a way of making you feel like you weren’t broken, even when you felt like you were. Ginny reached over, her hand brushing against Neville’s arm, offering him a soft, understanding smile.

“You don’t have to put up a brave front with us, Neville,” Ginny added. “You can feel how you feel. We’re here for you.”

Neville swallowed hard, and for a moment, he thought he might break down right there. He had never been one to show his emotions easily, not after all these years of pretending to be fine. But there was something in Harry and Ginny’s eyes—something that made him feel like he didn’t have to keep everything locked inside anymore.

“I just...” Neville’s voice cracked. “I just miss them. I wish I had more time with them. I was too young to remember them, and sometimes I feel like I don’t have a right to miss them this much because I don’t even have memories of them.” He paused, his voice faltering. “But it still hurts. It still feels like a part of me is missing.”

Harry nodded, his expression softening with empathy. He had often felt the same way about his own parents, especially on days like today, the day that seemed to magnify everything he had lost. “You have every right to miss them, Neville. No matter how long ago it was, it’s okay to grieve. And it’s okay to feel like you didn’t get the time you deserved.”

Ginny squeezed Neville’s arm, offering him a small but sincere smile. “We’re your family, Neville. You don’t have to carry the grief alone. We’ve all lost something... or someone. But together, we can help carry it for you, even if it’s just a little bit.”

Neville’s eyes welled with tears as he looked from Harry to Ginny. He had always prided himself on being tough, on holding it all together, but now, in this moment of tenderness, he felt the weight of his grief become a little lighter, as if it wasn’t all on his shoulders anymore. There was solace in knowing that he wasn’t alone, that his grief didn’t isolate him from the people who cared about him.

“I don’t know what to say,” Neville murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “But... thank you.”

Harry gave him a small smile. “You don’t have to say anything, Neville. Sometimes, just being here is enough. We’re here for you.”

And for the first time that day, Neville allowed himself to lean into the support, to accept the comfort that had always been there, even when he hadn’t been ready to reach out for it. Ginny’s hand stayed on his arm, and Harry’s presence beside him was a quiet reassurance that grief, no matter how heavy, could be shared.

As the fire crackled softly in the hearth, the three of them sat together in the dimming light, united in their silence, yet bound by the unspoken understanding that grief didn’t have to be faced alone. The weight of the loss would never fully disappear, but in this moment, Neville realized that it didn’t have to carry all of it on his own.

The night grew darker, but the warmth of the fire and the strength of his friends kept the cold at bay. It wasn’t a cure, not by any means, but it was a beginning—a small step towards healing. And for Neville, that was enough.