Professor Neville Longbottom (![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} profplant) wrote in ![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} silverage, |
He'd thought he was mostly over that, after all this time. But seeing Ginny and having to explain those dead in the war were walking around as near teenagers- well, he hadn't thought any thing of it until he woke up from his third nightmare. And as he didn't have a job yet, he might as well just go drink his troubles away, right? It wasn't as though he had anything to do, or anywhere to go.
That probably wasn't helping his sour mood. He felt so- so useless here. He could barely work the most basic of these Muggle contraptions, he couldn't find a job to save his life, and he was- well, he was just tired. Tired and apparently old. All the people who had died, who he had looked up to, were children in this world, adn they all seemed to be faring better than he was.
He looked up as a boy walked in, calling for bottles of wine, and frowned. That scarf- Gryffindor colors. He wished he had a scarf- it was bloody past freezing in this place. Snow in August- the nerve of some places. He cleared his throat and looked at his empty glass- and then again at the scarf. He'd seen that man before...but where? He cleared his throat again, this time loud enough to be an attempt at getting the other man's attention. "Gryffindor?" If he didn't respond or didn't understand, then at least Neville might be able to find out where he could get a scarf like that. If he did-