Draville: The Year After

»--»Neville's POV- unless otherwise marked«--«
Neville didn't mean to murder. It just... Happened.
When Malfoy shows up, just as dirty and cut-up as Neville, saying he understands, what will happen?
»--» Draville Ship BOYxBOY so you know the drill«--«


18. Eighteen

Ronald Weasley was dead.

His own brother murdered him.

Suddenly, I could take it any longer. I run out of the house, out into public areas. Where people didn't know of the murder that just occurred. Where people were in sweet oblivion.

I run as fast as I possibly can, my feet slapping the cement rhythmically.

I let my eyes close and let my instincts rather than my eyes lead me to the Burrow.

"Neville!" I hear Draco's voice behind me, wanting me to come back, but I keep moving forward. I put him in this. He nearly died because of me. And if I die now, or later today, or have whatever the Weasley's have in store for me done, fine. I'm slowly repaying him. I was a fool, thinking I could be protected. I was a fool, thinking that love was where your spouse protected you. I was a stupid fool.

I open my eyes, walking up to the Burrow.

I knock on the door.

I walk into the house.

I smile and make small conversation and give hugs.

I sit down in a chair.

I'm working like a robot, I know. But I'm about to die. Probably.

"So, Neville, dear," Mrs. Weasley tries to make conversation with the stone figure I have become. "It's been a while."

Not really, I think. You stabbed me less than a week ago. "Yeah." I say. "So what's new?"

"Arthur got promoted," she says happily.

I smile. "That's great!"

She beams, as if it was her achievement rather than her husband's. "Oh, dear, do excuse my manners. Are you hungry? I have dinner cooking... We'll eat when Ron and the others get back."

She doesn't know. I can't tell her. I just can't. So I instead smile. "I'm okay, thank you. Where are Hermione and the others?"

"Oh, they went to help George at- Neville, are you okay? You just went very pale. You look... Scared. Are you alright?"

I wasn't scared. I was terrified. If he is enlisting the help of Hermione, Luna, Ginny, and the others, they must know my secret. They might be killers soon. This is all my fault... What have I done? I try to smile. "Oh yeah, I'm fine. Sorry." I cough. "I did it," I whisper.

"I'm sorry, love, but I couldn't hear you."

"I killed Harry," I whisper into my hands, slightly louder than I was before.

"What was that about Harry, dear?"

I blush. "Oh, I said.... My arms are hairy. Yeah." I give an unconvincing smile. "Look, I gotta go."

"Aw, okay." Mrs. Weasley looked genuinely sad. "Bye, Neville."

"Bye, Mrs. Weasley. Thanks for having me over."

As I'm almost home, I realize something.

Molly Weasley was not the one who stabbed me.

Then who was it?

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