Predictably, Neville was left partnerless.

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Hullo, this is Neville Longbottom, I think I've done this right.
Erm, you can leave me a voiceletter. If you'd like.

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[ honestly, she's a bit thrown off by the question, simply because- ] Of course it bothers me. It bothers me every time I think about him. [ which makes it sound like she sits around grumping about the way things turned out, but it's not like that. it's disappointment mixed with sadness mixed with anger for not being able to change things, to be there. the idea that her friendship wasn't enough to keep Severus away from that life, from making those choices, is one of her true soft spots, it's a weakness. ]

I'm- I'm not sure what exactly you've heard, but I don't approve of the things he's done, between the time when I knew him back home and the time we've spent here. I do believe he's changed, that he's trying to at least, but I'm certainly not turning a blind eye to what he's done in the past. What I know of it, at least. [ which isn't anything about what kind of professor he was, no. but Neville's body language, his tone, his expression, it all paints a pretty clear picture of the way he treated at least one of his students ] I wasn't apologizing on his behalf, I was apologizing because I know how hurtful he can be.

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[Neville's brow furrows. It certainly doesn't sound like Lily had made an informed character assessment and found Snape a selfless hero worthy of Harry's sudden and bizarre adulation. What had he been playing at? What is even going on here? Neville frowns, trying to put together the puzzle with missing pieces and just growing more and more frustrated for it.

He shifts on his feet, fingers twisting in the hems of his own shirt.]

He made a lot of people think he had changed, I think. Professor Dumbledore, too. [Because Neville outright refuses to believe that Dumbledore would have ordered him to let Death Eaters torture the students, to have the muggleborns thrown into Azkaban when they arrived at the start of the school year. No matter what Harry and Hermione say on the matter. And then, suddenly, it occurs to him how she had phrased that: between when I knew him back home and the time we've spent here.

Mouth dry, he finally manages to look up into her face.] Has no one told you, what he did when he became Headmaster last time?

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[ and there it is, that sinking, cold feeling she always gets when the future is being held up in front of her like some kind of threat. not that it is, technically, but the way her chest twists makes her feel threatened, and it's probably written all over her face. it's humiliating, feeling so afraid of something that ultimately can't touch her here, but she is. she shakes her head, just this little tiny movement, looking just as embarrassed as she is afraid ]

I can't know. Not yet. [ she's looking somewhere past him for a second, shaking her head again before her eyes find his again, brow furrowed ] I know it makes me weak, like I'm trying to bury my head in the sand, but I can't- know those things. Not when I know I wasn't there to help, or fix things, or stop them. [ it's all guilt and responsibility and- yeah. but. ] I'm sorry.

I've been trying very hard to focus on what we all have here, you know? Because it's technically all I really do have. James and me. [ and she pauses there, hoping he sees that that's really what scares her. not the actual information, but the fact that she won't be there for any of it, she's still dealing with that. ] Not to say I'll just excuse what people did at home, who they are or what they've done, but I'm not- ready yet. To know.

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[It takes Neville a solid ten seconds, it seems like, to process that. At some point during her reply his mouth had even dropped open an infinitesimal amount.

He'd gotten so used to the extraordinary courage of his fellow students, over the last year - and especially over the last few weeks, when he'd been driven into hiding and only had contact with other members of Dumbledore's Army - that it floors him for a moment to hear anybody refuse to hear him out, on account of the information being unpleasant.

Which is, in fact, what he thinks is happening. After all, he's never had a mother, himself (at least, not one that can still feel and recognize dread or worry for the future), and the only time his grandmother had ever expressed pride in him was when he was throwing himself headlong into mortal danger, so the whole thing is treading a bit outside his scope of empathy. He blinks at her, mouth closing again.]

... Right. [He doesn't look like he has any idea where to go from there.] Well, I'm sorry for. For bothering you. Then.

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[ ow ]

You're not bothering me. I wouldn't have come in here if you were a bother. I was worried, you sounded- [ that's not the point. her voice is too quiet, like she's trying too hard to keep her temper under control. not that she really has one, but sometimes it flares, times like this. when she's not expecting it. ] If telling me about the future will help you feel better, then- you should, I suppose. I only came in here to make sure you were alright. I mean that.

[ her face is hot though, embarrassed and ashamed and a number of other emotions she's not used to feeling, wasn't expecting to right now, talking to Neville. which is why, even though she should stop, she kind of- sets off. still quiet, but her brow's furrowed up, jaw tight ]

Though, since we're on the subject, please let me know the next time someone tells you that you, and the person you love most, will be dead within two years time, because two different people that you've considered a best friends at some point in your life betrayed you. And that even though things seemed impossible for you and your friends, right before your death of course, everything you know falls apart after you're gone. Everything. When someone tells you that you're not around to see your son grow up, or to help him through the hell that came as the result of a blood prophecy, or to even fight in a war that you've been too close to from the start of it, please, let me know. Because then I would understand why you're looking at me like that right now.

[ oh godric she needs to shut up. she knows she's gone too far, it's obvious by how bright her eyes are, how she kind of isn't letting herself blink because she knows she'd get all- teary. but- ]

But since you must already know what that's like, going by your judgment here, you should go ahead and let me know. No harm done, right, since I won't be around to experience any of it anyway. Shame on me, being so selfish, when I took the easy way out of everything, taking a Killing Curse instead of living long enough to know what everyone is talking about of the future.

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[Neville looks quite like he'd just been slapped across the face.

He hadn't thought of that. Any of it, really. Not with Lily, and not with any of his other housemates (or Professor Dumbledore.) How hard it must be to come from the past and be unable to do anything to prepare for the future. It would probably drive him up a wall if a stranger walked in and told him that something terrible was going to happen a decade or two from now and ruin the lives of his friends and family, and that he couldn't do anything about it. Since coming here he's been so laser-focused on Snape, on how nobody is doing anything about Snape, that he'd let everything else get kicked right to the wayside.

Which is just-- well, he shouldn't be this much of a tosser. He isn't this much of a tosser, and he's letting a couple of Death Eaters turn him into one. That alone manages to make him feel even worse now than he had when Lily first walked in - and that's saying something.

In direct contrast to her relative restraint, Neville is blinking rapidly because there are definitely tears in his eyes. He's always been what one might charitably refer to as a bit emotional.]

I didn't say- I didn't mean-- [Well, he hadn't said but he had meant, which is the problem here. The war was all he lived and breathed and thought about for the past year, it was the only thing he'd ever done worth doing, and now he can't even talk about it. It's such a profoundly isolating feeling that he's lashing out at people who don't deserve it - he really doesn't want to be the kind of guy who does that. Miserably, ashamed, he ducks his head and fights back the urge to palm at his eyes.] I'm sorry.