The Lion and the Eagle |Neville Longbottom|

17. A Sweet Gesture Turns Sour

I was up semi-early. Today was the last day we'd spend here at the Forest of Dean.

I still couldn't believe Neville wouldn't let me take a risk of going back home. I wanted to see if I could scavenge for anything that would be useful. Yes, there was more than one purpose for going back to Godric's Hollow.

But you heard what Neville said, my conscience chimed, they know you want to come back. You'll fall right into their hands.

No, I won't. Neville will be there with me, ready to help me fight.

More like fight for you. You can't aim. My conscience was being evil on me this morning. It was supposed to tell me right from wrong, not things that I was in denial about.

I stretched very briefly only to wander around the tent to see Neville nowhere in sight.

I quickly bundled up and headed out, looking to the ground for fresh prints. I saw a lot, going in all sorts of directions, but not towards the woods. They were near trees that were closest to us and around the tent.

"Neville?" I called, circling the tent so many times I was a little dizzy afterwards. I tried to keep my ears open for footfall. "All right, come on, this isn't funny."

Slight fear shot my heart rate up. Was it possible that Death Eaters had come back for us and busted through the enchantments? Did they have Neville and were waiting to pounce on me next?

You would've heard a struggle. There's nothing to suggest one. No drag marks, no body imprint in the snow. The observations did prove that Neville being kidnapped was not a possibility.

The back of my head became wet. A snowball exploded in my hair. Neville.

I bent over to scoop up snow and mold it into a ball of my own. The moment I whipped around in the direction of the first snowball, another smacked me in the face. I yelped in shock, feeling the cold trying to numb my face. Neville chortled from behind the tent.

"That wasn't funny!" I exclaimed. "I thought somebody snatched you!"

"You should've seen your face," he snickered.

I charged, holding the snowball firmly in my hand. The moment I rounded the corner, Neville hammered me again, giving me a good palm of snow to my face. I spat out the snow while Neville laughed.

"Aw, don't be a poor sport, Jenelle," he said seriously, now helping me brush off the extra snow.

I slammed his face with my snowball, a small victory.

Neville shook his head, snow flew in various directions. "It's on," he growled playfully.

I couldn't match Neville's number of hits against my own, because he had gotten a head start. I got him a few times, snow plastered on him everywhere. He seemed to like my face since that's where most of his snowballs went. I eventually learned to raise my arms up and block the snow from attacking. Neville mimicked me when I would aim for his face.

Neville was restocking his snowballs when I nailed him—and it wasn't in a particularly nice spot. He winced, dropping his current snowball, dropping to his knees, hunching over in pain.

"Oh!" I gasped, rushing to him, kneeling down beside him. "I'm so sorry! I wasn't aiming for there, honest!"

"I'm...fine," Neville gasped, picking his head up to meet my eyes. "It'll pass in...a minute or two...Merlin..."