Who: The D.A. When: Monday; 11am-ish Where: Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes - Backroom What: D.A. Meeting Rating: TBD, prolly no more than PG Open/Closed: Closed to D.A. members
Neville was beyond nervous. Take a regular young Gryffindor and shove him into some semblance of leadership, and he ought to shine. That didn't excuse his overly dry mouth, his sweaty palms (which he continuously rubbed against the sides of his trousers), and his inability to settle his voice into anything other than a squeak--
He took to arranging and rearranging the crates, taking full advantage of his coming of age to Accio the heavy boxes this way and that. And he tried to recall how many of them there used to be in the Room of Requirement to help in setting out enough crates for everyone to sit upon. It was probably too much to hope for for Harry to make an appearance, considering. He slipped a hand into his trouser pocket, idly fingering the fake galleon once used to call everyone to meetings, wondering if anyone else still had theirs, wondering if they still worked when people were miles and miles apart.
He ought to have asked Hermione about it. He ought to have asked Hermione a great number of things, but they all seemed less important than the news he had to share with the rest of the D.A. Here's hoping they'd all show up.