Courage {Neville Longbottom} (ON HOLD)

Chapter One Hundred

"Neville, I'm fine, I swear," Kefira attempted to swipe away Neville's hand gently as he continued to try and examine the wound on the back of her head to see if it was healing properly. "If Madam Pomfrey sees you trying to eyeball her work like that, she's going to take it as an insult."

Truthfully, Kefira was suffering from one of the biggest headaches of her life as she walked down the corridor with Neville at her side. It seemed the majority of the chaos had died down in the castle after the Death Eaters fled like the cowards they were. However, from where her hand had slammed against the wall, she was definitely feeling the after effects as she walked along. Between McGonagall and Pomfrey, she knew that she was going to be fine, but the pain subsiding was not happening at a rapid pace as she would have liked. 

But she knew she had to keep a strong face for Neville because, during those moments, he looked absolutely mortified at what had taken place that evening. It was one thing for Kefira and Snape to go back and forth, lashing insults at one another, but it was entirely different when it came to the man actually attacking her physically. The boy's blood was boiling to the point where if Harry hadn't been the one to go after the man he would have seen to it himself. In that moment though, his main concern was making sure that Kefira was alright.

She could put on all the brave faces that she wanted to, but when she thought he was looking away, he caught sight of her grimacing in pain, so he knew she was hurting. Whether it was physical pain or the actual pain of being attacked by someone she had put so much time and effort into trying to help, he couldn't be certain. He was sure it was more than likely a mixture of both. He didn't want her to play strong during those moments because if she was really hurting, he wanted to help her. 

"I don't care if anyone takes it as an insult," he said sternly, bringing the playful smile on her face to vanish. "I care if you're alright. I know you have to be experiencing some kind of pain."

"Well, of course, I am, but it's not important right now-"

"Yes, it is!" Neville said bringing them both to a stop. It was the last thing Kefira wanted to do, she didn't want to stop, she didn't want to rest, because she was sure if she did, she wouldn't be able to pick up again to move forward. "How can you say it's not important? You could have been really hurt tonight, far worse than what actually happened. In fact, he could have killed you and you're going to stand there and tell me that it's not important."

"I didn't mean it like-"

"Well, I think it's important. I think it's very important because...because...I can't lose you."

Kefira could see the distraught look on his face but as she took a step towards him, he took one back, not looking for a hug at that exact moment. "Neville, you're not going to lose me. I promise-"

"You can't promise something like that, Kefi. Don't you get it? If that promise could be kept, don't you think my parents would have been the one raising me? They didn't want to get hurt either, but it happened. Those Death Eaters don't care, they will hurt you, they will hurt anyone that stands in their way. Call me selfish, but I don't want anyone else taken away from me. I just built up enough courage to tell you that I love you and I don't want one of the first times to be one of the last times I get to tell you that."

Once again, Kefira realised that her impulsive actions had caused her to get hurt but at the same time, without wanting to, she had hurt Neville. She hurt him because she placed it in his mind that there was a strong possibility that she would get hurt or that he would lose her. After all the pain and suffering of losing his parents, despite the fact that he could see them, he really couldn't afford to have anything similar happen again. It would kill him internally and while Kefira was reassured that he meant every word when he said "I love you" he was showing it to her more than ever during the stolen moments of time in the corridor.