FIC: Small Kindness (HP, Neville, gen)
Oct. 15th, 2003 08:43 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
wickedwordsSummary: Neville visits an injured friend.
Small Kindness
By rachael sabotini
Thanks to millefiori for betaing this. I make no money, no profit, and no sense.
The wall was cold against Neville's back. He'd managed to wedge himself in the shadows just outside the infirmary, behind a statue of a Wizard with a huge handlebar mustache. He was certain no one could see him, but he couldn't help worrying about it. He wiped his hands against his robe, and wished that he knew some way to make sure he couldn't be seen.
Time dragged on. Neville shifted his weight from one foot to the other, and back again. He waited patiently -- he was good at waiting -- and let the cool darkness wrap him in its embrace. The low mutters of the worried professors provided a gentle music that he could relax into and enjoy. At last, he saw the Headmaster and Professor Snape sweep out of the room, leaving the infirmary in peace.
He crept in, and carefully walked over to the bedside, to stare at the golden-haired man lying there, eyes shut, covers tucked under his chin. "Professor?" Neville said quietly. "Professor Lockhart?"
His eyes fluttered open. Sharp and bright still, but without the energy he'd once had. Neville reached down and squeezed his hand. "I'm Neville, one of your students. I brought you something." He had to let go as he reached into his pocket, but he continued to stare as he fumbled to find his gift.
The man in the bed looked little like the man Neville remembered. What a force he'd been in the classroom, how he'd made Neville squirm with a combination of terror and a need to live up to expectations. Lockhart had been assured and cheerful, no matter what happened. Even when those pixies had gotten out, he'd been matter of fact about how easily the mess could easily be taken care of. Confident. He had faith that if he couldn't handle it, someone else could, so you could just leave the place and wait for the next one to come along.
Nothing in Neville's experience said that other people looked out for you like that. Yet when Lockhart was around, Neville could almost believe that someone would come and get him out of the mess he'd made, or even that he would be able to fix it on his own. He knew his skills were horrible, yet Lockhart had acted as if Neville could do anything the other students could, from writing an essay to banishing a pixie. It was odd to have a teacher confident in his skills. It was even odder that when Lockhart had been around, Neville had believed it too.
Thrusting his hand into the hole in his robe's inner lining, Neville finally found what he'd been looking for. "Here. I thought you might need this later." He placed it on the palm of the professor's hand, where it glowed red in the dim light.
"It's lovely." Lockhart's voice brought a lump to Neville's throat. There was no confidence in him now, just an ocean of wonder, and something within Neville felt like it cracked. "What is it?"
"It's a remembrall." Neville said softly, just as he spoke to his parents, picking the ball up and turning it. "It glows red when you've forgotten something."
Lockhart shifted in his bed, pulling himself up a bit so he could get a better look. "They say that I've forgotten a lot of things." He picked the ball up and held it to the light, so he could see it flicker and glow.
Neville nodded, the fragile hope within him shattering and turning to dust. "I forget things too."
Lockhart looked bemusedly at him, and Neville felt himself flush. "I won't need it," he said hurriedly. "I remember things a lot better now." He wanted to stammer and hide, just disappear into the floor from the force of that look. It was honest and trusting, and the weight of it bore down on Neville more than anything else could. He didn't deserve to have anyone look at him like that. He always made a mess of it. "I thought you might like it."
"I would. Thank you." Lockhart said and smiled, tucking the remembrall under his pillow again. He yawned and stretched, then settled back against the bed. "Good night."
Neville nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He wanted to cry out, to shake Lockhart and make him the man Neville remembered, but that would never happen. It was as useless as wishing his parents would remember him. Instead, he pulled the covers up to Lockhart's shoulders, patted him, and left.
Shutting the door behind him, Neville leaned against it, his heart pounding. He swallowed, and swallowed again, not believing what he'd done. He'd violated curfew and snuck into the infirmary by himself to give a present to a teacher. Not even Hermione would have dared that.
Trembling, he pulled himself away from the door, and headed back to the common room. It was even colder now than it had been when he hid outside the infirmary door, and he wrapped his arms around himself to keep warm as he walked. He'd overheard that Lockhart was being sent to St. Mungo's. Perhaps he would check on him when he visited his parents, and they could talk. Neville brightened a bit, thinking about how he would finally have someone to talk to about Hogwarts, his classes, and what subjects he wasn't passing. He knew Lockhart wouldn't judge him for his failures. He wouldn't even remember them.
-end-
I don't really have any place to put this, so if you know of someplace, please let me know. I'm also happy to correct any of the spelling and punctuation mistakes you find, so let me know those as well. Thanks!
This is the first story I've posted since I did the pirates one a few months ago. I wrote it initially as an outtake to the big unfinished Sn/H story that I was working on last year. The scene just wouldn't let me go, so I had to write it.
So this week, when I was desperately searching for something, anything, in close to postable shape, I realized that this one said something that I wanted to say. So I asked millefiori for help, and she read it through and gave me some good comments. I polished it up while E was working on homework and now I feel pretty successful. I still have the pirate stories that I need to work on, and the uncle one, and the shanghaii knights. And maybe someday I can face the rest of the HP stuff again. *g*
Small Kindness
By rachael sabotini
Thanks to millefiori for betaing this. I make no money, no profit, and no sense.
The wall was cold against Neville's back. He'd managed to wedge himself in the shadows just outside the infirmary, behind a statue of a Wizard with a huge handlebar mustache. He was certain no one could see him, but he couldn't help worrying about it. He wiped his hands against his robe, and wished that he knew some way to make sure he couldn't be seen.
Time dragged on. Neville shifted his weight from one foot to the other, and back again. He waited patiently -- he was good at waiting -- and let the cool darkness wrap him in its embrace. The low mutters of the worried professors provided a gentle music that he could relax into and enjoy. At last, he saw the Headmaster and Professor Snape sweep out of the room, leaving the infirmary in peace.
He crept in, and carefully walked over to the bedside, to stare at the golden-haired man lying there, eyes shut, covers tucked under his chin. "Professor?" Neville said quietly. "Professor Lockhart?"
His eyes fluttered open. Sharp and bright still, but without the energy he'd once had. Neville reached down and squeezed his hand. "I'm Neville, one of your students. I brought you something." He had to let go as he reached into his pocket, but he continued to stare as he fumbled to find his gift.
The man in the bed looked little like the man Neville remembered. What a force he'd been in the classroom, how he'd made Neville squirm with a combination of terror and a need to live up to expectations. Lockhart had been assured and cheerful, no matter what happened. Even when those pixies had gotten out, he'd been matter of fact about how easily the mess could easily be taken care of. Confident. He had faith that if he couldn't handle it, someone else could, so you could just leave the place and wait for the next one to come along.
Nothing in Neville's experience said that other people looked out for you like that. Yet when Lockhart was around, Neville could almost believe that someone would come and get him out of the mess he'd made, or even that he would be able to fix it on his own. He knew his skills were horrible, yet Lockhart had acted as if Neville could do anything the other students could, from writing an essay to banishing a pixie. It was odd to have a teacher confident in his skills. It was even odder that when Lockhart had been around, Neville had believed it too.
Thrusting his hand into the hole in his robe's inner lining, Neville finally found what he'd been looking for. "Here. I thought you might need this later." He placed it on the palm of the professor's hand, where it glowed red in the dim light.
"It's lovely." Lockhart's voice brought a lump to Neville's throat. There was no confidence in him now, just an ocean of wonder, and something within Neville felt like it cracked. "What is it?"
"It's a remembrall." Neville said softly, just as he spoke to his parents, picking the ball up and turning it. "It glows red when you've forgotten something."
Lockhart shifted in his bed, pulling himself up a bit so he could get a better look. "They say that I've forgotten a lot of things." He picked the ball up and held it to the light, so he could see it flicker and glow.
Neville nodded, the fragile hope within him shattering and turning to dust. "I forget things too."
Lockhart looked bemusedly at him, and Neville felt himself flush. "I won't need it," he said hurriedly. "I remember things a lot better now." He wanted to stammer and hide, just disappear into the floor from the force of that look. It was honest and trusting, and the weight of it bore down on Neville more than anything else could. He didn't deserve to have anyone look at him like that. He always made a mess of it. "I thought you might like it."
"I would. Thank you." Lockhart said and smiled, tucking the remembrall under his pillow again. He yawned and stretched, then settled back against the bed. "Good night."
Neville nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He wanted to cry out, to shake Lockhart and make him the man Neville remembered, but that would never happen. It was as useless as wishing his parents would remember him. Instead, he pulled the covers up to Lockhart's shoulders, patted him, and left.
Shutting the door behind him, Neville leaned against it, his heart pounding. He swallowed, and swallowed again, not believing what he'd done. He'd violated curfew and snuck into the infirmary by himself to give a present to a teacher. Not even Hermione would have dared that.
Trembling, he pulled himself away from the door, and headed back to the common room. It was even colder now than it had been when he hid outside the infirmary door, and he wrapped his arms around himself to keep warm as he walked. He'd overheard that Lockhart was being sent to St. Mungo's. Perhaps he would check on him when he visited his parents, and they could talk. Neville brightened a bit, thinking about how he would finally have someone to talk to about Hogwarts, his classes, and what subjects he wasn't passing. He knew Lockhart wouldn't judge him for his failures. He wouldn't even remember them.
-end-
I don't really have any place to put this, so if you know of someplace, please let me know. I'm also happy to correct any of the spelling and punctuation mistakes you find, so let me know those as well. Thanks!
This is the first story I've posted since I did the pirates one a few months ago. I wrote it initially as an outtake to the big unfinished Sn/H story that I was working on last year. The scene just wouldn't let me go, so I had to write it.
So this week, when I was desperately searching for something, anything, in close to postable shape, I realized that this one said something that I wanted to say. So I asked millefiori for help, and she read it through and gave me some good comments. I polished it up while E was working on homework and now I feel pretty successful. I still have the pirate stories that I need to work on, and the uncle one, and the shanghaii knights. And maybe someday I can face the rest of the HP stuff again. *g*
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
lovely Neville story!
Date: 2003-10-16 12:40 am (UTC)Thanks!
Re: lovely Neville story!
Date: 2003-10-16 01:25 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-10-16 04:02 pm (UTC)I loved the way you gave Neville such an utterly different take on Lockhart, so in keeping with what Neville most desires. (In a way, as if Neville were himself writing a form of fanfiction about Lockhard, badly characterised but imbuing Lockhart with all the things he would most desire to find in himself.)
What a force he'd been in the classroom, how he'd made Neville squirm with a combination of terror and a need to live up to expectations.
Funny, because so many people have written this as Snape's motivation - the wish to push the children to higher goals through fear, because he knows they will need to be strong in the face of adversity - and that never sat right for me. I think the truth of Snape is that he is a pessimist, and doesn't believe the children will amount to anything at all. But Lockhart, for all his glibness and falsity, is an optimist: he'll always be able to squeeze himself out of any mess he might make, and see himself twinkling on the next rainbow along. Your empathy in working out how that might appear to Neville makes for a great story.
Lockhart's voice brought a lump to Neville's throat. There was no confidence in him now, just an ocean of wonder, and something within Neville felt like it cracked.
:) And oddly enough it was exactly that, the sense of wonder and looking outside himself for the first time, that I really enjoyed about amnesiac!Lockhart. As if always looking only at himself had stunted him enormously, and now he was a child again, open to the influences of the world. I don't remember feeling this about Lockhart in the book, so I think it might be something Brannagh brought to the character.
Either way, I liked this a lot. Gen Neville (sigh). Back to Sn/H for you, please!
Oh, and I did go and read all the Shanghai Knights archive. I liked, but remained unconverted. Write some more and convert me :)
no subject
Date: 2003-11-04 10:50 am (UTC)Couple notes: I think it's "remembrall," and this bit:
"I won't need it," He said hurriedly.
The "he" shouldn't be capitalized.
This: It was even colder now than it had been when he had hid outside the infirmary door...
when he hid outside...
St. Mungo's, with an apostrophe, I think?