Work Text:
He'd been on his way back from the greenhouses. She'd been on her way back from detention. The back of her hand sang in agony from several hours use of Umbridge's blood quill, but she refused to succumb to it. She was no stranger to pain, and she was not about to give that sanctimonious toad the satisfaction of seeing her break.
It was hard, by Merlin it was hard – especially considering how gentle he was administering the poultice he'd made for her upon discovery of her injury. It was strange being the one tended to, the one looked after… admitting her weakness was a terrifying thing.
"You are not weak, Harri," Neville told her firmly as he escorted her back to Gryffindor tower. There was anger mixed in with worry in his eyes; at Umbridge's treatment of her, along with her refusal to report her misconduct. "You're stubborn… but hell, you're one of the strongest people I know!"
Harri had no response, she was too stunned by this different Neville Longbottom before her. He'd asserted himself a few times before, but it was always a bit startling to see. Although…
As they approached the Fat Lady's portrait, Harri noted that he still held her hand securely in his.
…despite the strangeness of the situation, Harri found that it really didn't bother her that much at all.
~end