Warm But Tainted Blood (Drarry)

chapter fifthteen

Neville is quiet. He is quiet because he's not so good at talking and he is quiet because of an old saying that goes "if you have nothing nice to say, don't say anything at all."

Neville hates Harry Potter. It is hate born of jealousy, of the "would've beens" and "should've beens," and the beens in-between. It's born of Frank and Alice Longbottom on the beds of St. Mungo's and the feeling that it should've been (could've been, would've been) he that gave them retribution.

Neville hates Harry Potter and he hates quietly. He'd probably stutter if he said the words, but he's thought the phrase "I dispise you" more than enough to prove his point. He's forgetful, that boy smelling of citrus and dirt, but he can never forget his strong distaste of Harry Potter.

Neville makes friends who are more loud about their hatred toward Harry-- Ron-- and supports them openly, skipping over his words all the while. It's subtle, his small displays of fuck you. He lets Ron do all the heavy lifting and knows even through that that Harry can feel his distaste.

Neville has bigger plans for the school that's mocked him, bigger than Harry and bigger than Ron. Hogwarts was supposed to be his home away from home. Hogwarts was supposed to accept him with open arms, embrace his many flaws instead of condemning them.

Hogwarts fell short.

Neville is not happy. He's not liked and he's not happy. He doesn't want to go back to the school that makes fun of him for talking to the point he doesn't want to do it at all anymore. So he'll try his best to make sure there is no place to return to. These thoughts are not entirely his own-- there is something subtle, always so subtle pushing at the back of his mind and encouraging his misdemeanor-- and he can tell. There's a compulsion at the back of his him that he can tell because it's his mind.

Neville can tell-- because how could he not-- and he does not care.

So Neville Longbottom watched Harry Potter try his best to enjoy himself at Hogwarts and Neville Longbottom hates him because he cannot do the same. He'll rip the school out from under him and he'll sink with it, too, if he has to. Just as a captain may drown with his ship, Neville knows he'll fail if he ploy does, too.

Neville knows he's not perfect, though. It's a fact that makes itself known with every stumble in his step, every awkward pause in his words, and it is a fact that refuses to be ignored. A part of him adknowledges that his ship will sink, and he'll sink with it.

He has a back up plan, because all antagonists do. It presents itself in the form of one Ronald Weasley.

Neville knows that he is a boy of hate and there is plenty to go around. He hates Hogwarts and hates Harry Potter. If he cannot destroy one, he will settle for the end of another. He hands a book on Muggle automatic shotguns to Ron Weasley one evening while watching the February Quidditch match.

Ron looked at him, puzzlement grazing his features, and even in a state of such confusion-- of such weakness-- Neville could not help but think that Ron's so much more of a lion than him, in all the ways that'll get his claws removed. It's exactly what he needs.

"What's 'is?" Ron voices, speaking slightly louder than normal as to combat the offensive wind.

I'll fail but you won't. You're lion in all the ways Harry is not.

"Guns," said Neville. "Muggles, er, use them to-- erm, k-kill things."

Ron snorts and turns the books over in his hands. "They're simply genius when they want to be, eh?"

I'll stutter when you won't.

"They are," Neville says, clapping along when the Gryffindor Chaser scores a goal. "Y-you should..." say it, spit it out, spit in their fucking faces, "You should learn to use one."

If Ron notices his sudden change in tone-- one now vengeful, hopeful, filled with malice not toward him-- then only the slight narrowing of his eyes could testify to such. "Why 'ould I do that?" he asks, and his voice shows he's curious and not dumb enough to be completely afraid.

Don't fuck this up like I will. Like I always will.

"Be-because Harry Potter would find them cool, wouldn't he?" Cool as the grip of ice in a non-rising chest six feet under.

Ron's stupid. But he's not stupid enough not to pick up on the stain of blood indebted in his words. "You want me to shoot Harry Potter?" he asks bluntly.

I want you to do the world a favour.

Neville shrugs and it's not exactly a casual gesture. It's full of tension and anticipation and screams this can go wrong, because it always does with him, it always does. "It's a, um, suggestion, Ron. You can take your time to think about it if you want. A month, two-- hell, even a year or more. Let it simmer. But don't forget."

Ron says nothing. It's maybe more expressive than if he had said anything at all-- because he's not outright condemning Neville wanting Harry dead. He's not saying anything, though, so Neville knows that he won't be on board with it quickly. It's an idea that'll simmer, one Ron will stay up thinking about, one that is being considered. He won't forget it. That's all Neville could ask for.

Maybe my plan will fail. Maybe my plot will be snuffed out long before there's only my allies not left wandering as dragons and maybe I'll fail. I'm still going to try, though, because it's easier to stick to a falling point than admit my follies. It's easier to watch the world burn than learn to burn with it.

You're my plan B, Ron. You're my plan B because I'm angry and quiet and you're all I am but loud.