Neville Longbottom (nevforthewin) wrote in plagued_logs, @ 2015-09-02 22:02:00 |
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Entry tags: | !grabme, 1998 september, dean thomas, harry potter, neville longbottom, rating pg, ron weasley, seamus finnigan |
WHO: Gryffindor 8th Year Boys (Grab Me!) (Ron isn't on GrabMe but he can totes join if he wants)
WHAT: Coming Home
WHEN: Tuesday Evening
WHERE: 8th Year Dormitory, Gryffindor Tower
RATING: PG probs / maybe swearing cos Seamus
STATUS: WIP
This roof keeps me dry when the rain falls
This door helps to keep the cold at bay
On this floor I can stand on my own two feet
And when it's cold outside, I feel no fear
Even in the winter storms, I am warmed
By a small but stubborn fire
And there is no where I would rather be
It isn't much, but it is enough for me.
Dinner in the Great Hall had been very strange, with no Sorting and so few people sitting at the tables. Everyone was more somber than usual, especially walking through areas where scorch marks and indentations were still visible on the walls. Neville had walked past the place where Colin had died without really taking it in. He knew it would hit him at some point later, but right now he was too tired from the long train journey and the excitement of seeing everyone again to process it. What felt good was climbing all the long staircases up to Gryffindor tower. The journey he knew so well and now - finally, after seven years - well enough that he could avoid the trick stairs and corridors that changed directions on different days of the week, and so on. There were visible changes that were somewhat startling, when they were so used to the castle as it had been, but when they got there, Gryffindor Tower was just the same, and their dormitory was there waiting for them, with their trunks sitting at the ends of the beds - five of them again, where there had only been two last year. It was a cheering sight. "There you are," Neville said with a happy sigh, and went over to fall - with some dramatic effect - onto his huge, pillowed four-poster, burrowing happily into the softness of the duvet. "I missed you most of all. A hammock has nothing on you." |