Neville waits, because that’s all he can do anymore.
“I wish you wouldn’t rush into things like this, Harry.”
“I have to, Neville. Please don’t worry.”
He recounts his earlier conversation with Harry over and over, and it is far from comforting.
Neville pulls Harry into a hug that lasts a bit too long to just be friendly. Harry pulls himself free from the other boy’s grasp, and Neville hangs his head to hide the tears that are forming.
He hates that he can’t stop his tears, and he hates the uncertainty in Harry’s eyes.
“I’ll be back tonight,” Harry reassures him.
“What if you’re not?” Neville asks in a broken whisper.
Harry never answers, and Neville isn’t even sure he heard.
He is alone in the dorm now, and probably will be until Harry and Ron stumble in late in the night, battered and exhausted from whatever battle they’re fighting today.
Harry leaves (hopefully not forever), and Neville winces as the door slams.
“I love you,” he says quietly to the closed door, knowing that as long as the war goes on, Harry won’t be able to return the sentiment.
Neville waits…
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