Kairos: Mageia

There wasn’t time for love in war.

There wasn’t time for love in war.

There wasn’t time for love in war.

This was Neville’s mantra, the one which he tried to pound into his head every day.

You could love someone, as in wanting to keep them safe. As in, you could love the younger Gryffindors that didn’t know why they were being punished merely for a magical hat deciding they should pledge their loyalty to a lion. You could love them in the way your heart clenched and cried out whenever the Carrows chose someone under thirteen for target practice. You could love your friends like Jack Sloper, the ones who brought you another piece of carrot cake because they knew it was your favorite and because you’d helped him survive a night with a broken leg and he thought for sure he was dying as Padma tried to re-set the bones. 

But you couldn’t love someone, not intimately, not properly.

And you certainly couldn’t love the savior of the Wizarding World’s bird. 

No matter how her hair never seemed to lose her shine, even when everyone else’s had dulled from lack of food, sleep, or onset of stress. No matter how she still found things to giggle at, because it seemed impossible to even force a fake smile these days. No matter how fiercely she protected the little ones, putting herself as a shield in front of those that didn’t know how to even really hold a wand yet, and how she would not yell in pain as they tortured her, a few traitorous tears the only indication of her inner agony.

No, despite the fact that Ginny Weasley was the most incredible person he’d ever met, and despite how his heart got all clunky whenever he was around her, loving Ginny Weasley was incredibly, totally, entirely off-limits. 

But Great Godric...Gryffindors, at best, were shite with following directions. Rebellion might as well have been all their collective middle name. 

He almost kissed her in November. 

His willpower almost broke as he pushed her, not too hard, just gently enough to move her, against the wall of the hallway. She had some blood on her cheek; likely not hers, but even if it was, she wasn’t flinching. His fingers caressed down her freckles, trying to connect them like constellations. 

“Neville…” She whispered hoarsely, tilting her head upwards. They were so close that he could feel the way her heart was beating like a jackrabbit, matching his. How her skin was blushing as his fingers traced invisible patterns. How her tiny fists pulled him every so closer, and her warm eyes seemed to melt as he looked down at her.

His mouth came to her cheek, however, and he sighed, pressing his forehead to hers. 

“I can’t.” 

There was a long pause, then Ginny let him go. She licked her lips, nodding, and allowed Neville to pass by to Potions. 

Ginny almost kissed him in December. 

They were hiding out in the Quidditch pitch, praying that the Carrows were too dumb to see them. They’d ran all the way here from the Great Hall. Ginny had made some snarky comment under her breath, but they’d heard it. And Neville had realized it before she had. He’d grasped her hand and ran, never once looking back, only hearing the footsteps pounding behind them. 

The snow was up to their waists and it was freezing cold, but they sat, buried in the snow. If they found them, both of them, they’d be lucky if they were strung up for a day in punishment. The worst was an accidental death. It seemed like an overreaction over a comment, but hell, that’s the sort of time they were in. 

Ginny was shivering, her lips turning blue.

Neville took one arm out of his jacket and tugged it around her, pulling Ginny to his personal body warmth. Her bones were clattering and she was pressing her hands against her lips to keep from any noise coming out.

“Damn it! I knew they went towards that old loaf’s hut!” Alecto snapped, “You idiot!” 

“I thought I saw-,” Amycus began. 

“No matter, follow me. They could be halfway through the Forbidden Forest by now,” Alecto grouched. 

They waited another twenty minutes until they were sure that they were gone. And as they carefully unraveled themselves from the knot of shared body heat, Ginny inhaled, and when he looked down, it seemed like her lips were bee-lining for his.

But it stopped short, and Neville didn’t finish the distance.

By January they were sleeping together, but no, not like that. 

It was unsafe for anyone to sleep alone; blame it on night terrors, blame it on the Carrows pulling students left with no one on watch from their beds to do dastardly things, blame it on a need to feel that someone else was still alive and fighting with you, but everyone was pairing up.

They were not the first, but they were not the last to start curling in each other’s forms. Sometimes, most nights, they tried to take turns keeping watch. A few times, they were too tired and they’d put a charm on their fingers, locking them together. If one was going to be taken, they both were.

This is how they’d always sleep, facing each other, fingers enclosed as one, stealing a precious few hours that were not a living nightmare.

In February, the Carrows killed a 1st year. 

It wasn’t even a Gryffindor. 

Neville knew all the Slytherins had placed bets on which house the Carrows would have a caused casualty in first. Most money was on Gryffindors, and if it wasn’t so morbid, Neville would have bet that too.

The Carrows hated Gryffindors. If you were in Gryffindor, you were a target, no matter what. It was a fact of this year that was inescapable. And you were their favorite plaything. Whenever there weren’t any students actively doing something wrong, a Gryffindor would be pulled from class for whatever stupid reason they’d told Snape, and they’d always come back bloody.

But no...this time, this first time, it was a Hufflepuff. 

If you were from another house, you’d better watch yourself, but you weren’t a stress reliever for their rage or darker desires. You went under the radar…unless you were consorting with a Gryffindor.

To be placed in Gryffindor was a tragedy, but just a cruel turn of fate. To not be placed in such a cursed house but still choose to actively protect or stand up for Gryffindors was like a personal offense to the Carrows.

The kid they killed wasn’t brave. He wasn’t foolhardy. He wasn’t daring.

He was just loyal, and this is what killed him. 

One of the first-year Gryffindors, back before things were really bad, had helped him on his first day in Potions. So when the Carrows were wailing on a first-year Gryffindor girl and slapped her to the ground with such a sound that Neville was sure this little one was the first casualty of the year, that same Hufflepuff boy stepped forward. He was no doubt remembering the kindness she’d paid to him. When you do that for a Hufflepuff, they never forget it, and they will always be your champion.

He didn’t scream at the Carrows. He didn’t turn his own wand on them.

He just, simply, offered her a hand to help her get to her feet.

This was enough to sign his death warrant. 

In the aftermath, the Carrows left him broken on the ground and pranced away to do whatever they did after committing atrocities. 

Everyone else stood in horrified silence, a wide bubble around the kid and the girl, who had crawled to his side. 

“Everyone, go...go-,” Ginny commanded.

When she spoke, people listened. 

Neville picked him up.

He wasn’t sure where to even bring him. He was so lightweight; it hardly felt like he was carrying anything at all.

“McGonagall,” Ginny murmured, and yes, of course, that was the logical option. McGonagall would know what to do, probably call the head of his house, and they’d coordinate it all. 

Neville didn’t cry until they’d left McGonagall’s office, but once he did, he couldn’t stop. His hands were stained and his shirt was ruined. 

“This is Hell. It is, it is,” Neville whispered, “I-,” 

Ginny’s kiss was quick, so quick he almost thought he was hallucinating. 

But it wasn’t. He knew it because of how her bottom lip glistened and how she had pulled back, a breath away from him. 

“Please. Let me help you.” 

She couldn’t find words to speak after that, and he was so rattled that he couldn’t find any strength to kiss her back, but she just twined her fingers in his, led him to the Prefect’s bath, and helped him wash off in all his clothes, her fingers gently shampooing his hair. 

After that, in March, Neville knew that no one was coming for them. They were trapped here and he was not going to let anyone else die.

So he moved everyone to the Room of Requirements. Damn their education; he’d rather they spend the rest of the year hiding in here, knowing that no one else would bleed out on the cobblestone floors. The Room gave him exactly what he needed, and for the first time, everyone gave a collective sigh of relief. 

Ginny still slept in Neville’s bed, even though things were safer, and even though almost no one slept with anyone else anymore. 

He didn’t know if he could vocalize it to her, but he hoped she’d never leave. 

April passed by long and slow.

They found many games to occupy their time. 

If they wanted it, the Room gave it.

The elves fed them and kept them well-satiated so that they could get their strength up.

The 7th and 6th years taught mini-lessons to those younger, with the hopes that this full year wouldn’t be a wash.

And time ticked, ticked, ticked away.

In here, in this Room, reality seemed to move and sway in a different way. In a way that he and Ginny were together, sorta, without saying it out loud.

He knew that everything would be different out there. 

In May, they got word that it was going to end. 

The night before the Battle, as they curled up as normal, Ginny drew the curtains and then, not like normal, cast a silencing charm. 

“Wha-,” 

Her heated kisses gave him pause.

At first, he just responded with what felt like the proper steps. His hands sought warm skin beneath her shirt, he pulled her close, and she spun them so he was on top, and her legs hooked. But as she was popping buttons on his shirt, Neville’s brain caught up with his limbs.

“We can’t.” 

Ginny shushed him, shaking her head, “We can. I’m not...I’m not with Harry. He broke up with me, knowing he was going off so that I wouldn’t be left waiting. And I’m not waiting for him, not like the way he feared I was.” 

“Ginny,” Neville moaned, but she had shimmied her shirt off, and he was losing fine motor function, like speaking, rapidly. 

“When he comes back, I’m not sure what’ll happen. He’s Harry Potter. Maybe he’ll be our savior. Maybe he’ll win. And I don’t know what happens after that,” Ginny whispered, a sort of tearful confession. 

“Do you love him?” Neville asked.

“I don’t...I’m not...how can I know in times of war?” She questioned, and really, that answered his next question too...well, did she love him? 

“I…” How could he do this, with his best friend’s girl? The girl he knew Harry was so besotted with? 

“I’m not with him, I’m not,” Ginny said, pulling Neville down, “And I want this. I’ve wanted it for longer than I care to admit. Do you?” 

His hands found her breasts, and he nodded, “I do. Very much so.” 

“Then, please,” Ginny begged, “For tonight. I don’t know how tomorrow will go. We might die and I...I want this.” She repeated. 

“Just for tonight,” Neville said, the expectation of tomorrow hanging heavily on everyone. By the time they were both unclothed, no more words were able to be said, but Neville’s mind was a broken record.

There’s no time for love in war.

There’s no time for love in war.

There’s no time for love in war, so take this moment outside of time, and remember that it all will be different tomorrow.