Crazy
December, 1995
Neville wondered sometimes if his parents were still sane in there somewhere.
His parents, on all accounts, appeared to be perfectly crazy. Anyone who knew about it would decide that this fact probably explained his poor wizardry, why he couldn't learn anything properly. Maybe he was going crazy, too. Maybe the stories about their being tortured into insanity were all platitudes to mask him from the truth. Maybe they just went crazy naturally. Maybe he was doomed to go down the same path.
Maybe he already was crazy and was too crazy to know it. Like them.
But maybe they weren't that crazy after all. They glanced simultaneously at each other at certain intervals. Neville often thought he saw affection in their eyes. But then they'd flap their arms about wildly or do something else similarly irrelevant, and Neville would remember that they were in this ward for a reason.
"Neville's still doing wonderfully in Herbology," his grandmother was saying to his parents. "Although I daresay his other marks could be a slight better, his Defence Against the Dark Arts is going up a touch. Perhaps someday Neville will do well enough to... well. Time will tell, won't it, Neville?"
"Yeah," he said dully.
His grandmother's eyes burned a hole through him. He was expected to say more. He sighed and obliged.
"Harry, Ron and Hermione are doing well. We... we meet often. I've also made friends with a girl named Luna. She's quite odd, but she's... really nice." He glanced up from the floor. Frank was staring at him with wild eyes. Alice had cocked her head almost completely sideways. Suddenly she got out of her bed and wandered over to that of her husband's; she sat on the end and patted his leg affectionately. He reached forward and took her hand. Both of them stared at him expectantly.
Neville understood the indication and let his gaze return to the floor. "Ginny's good too, mum," he mumbled.
"Well, Happy Christmas," his grandmother proclaimed loudly. She thought he was silly to interpret his mother's actions as coherent, and generally ended the visit as soon as he did. He followed his grandmother's lead and kissed each of his parents on the cheek. Alice exchanged a glance with Frank and started after Neville as he and his grandmother headed toward the door.
"And--oh, Mrs. Longbottom, are you leaving already?" a Healer asked Alice as she passed, hastening toward her. Neville didn't look back until--
"Neville!"
Neville jumped and resisted the urge to obliterate a hole in the floor and step conveniently through it down to the next level. He felt like he may actually have been able to do it, too, given the chance. Instead he turned slowly to regard Ron, who was looking pleased to see him. Harry was beside him, and beside Harry were Hermione and Ginny, looking confused. Neville blushed under Ginny's gaze and tuned out of whatever conversation was going on.
I don't want to be here, he thought dully. I'm sure gran is going to make it sound like I belong here with them for all the talent I lack. Or perhaps here instead of them. I wish they were... no. No, that isn't right. I'm glad for who they are, and were, and I'm proud of what they stand for. I'm not ashamed.
"I'm not ashamed," he repeated out loud. His grandmother kept talking. Neville kept thinking. A soft tapping at his shoulder was the only thing to interrupt his thoughts.
"Again? Very well, Alice dear, very well... Neville, take it, whatever it is," his gran said.
Neville followed the odd indications his mother was giving. He glanced at her, then momentarily at Ginny before blushing again and letting Alice drop a gum wrapper into his hand. "Thanks, mum," he said quietly. She turned away and hummed the vague tune of one of Celestina Warbeck's Christmas songs as she returned to her bed.
---
As Frank chewed his daily dose of Droobles' the next day, he tottered over to Alice's bed, kissed her on the head, and handed her the wrapper, as was usual custom. She grabbed his hand affectionately as she took the paper and put it under her mattress with the rest.
---
Ginny was perplexed by the presence of a wrinkled sweet paper on her pillow when she returned to Hogwarts. She asked her nearest dormmates about it, but no one seemed to know why it was there. Shrugging and considering with a smile the notion of a house-elf Christmas party, she crumpled it into a ball and threw it in the trash.