"So," Neville said, awkwardly clearing his throat as he glanced down at the pouch of ten marbles in his hand, "that's rough, huh?"

The mood had certainly darkened somewhat since the cheery announcement was made, informing them that they would be competing against their partners to the death.

Next to him, his own partner, Nico, snorted. "Bit of an understatement, but yeah... whatever."

Neville gave a nervous chuckle before falling into an awkward silence. Nico continued to look disdainfully into the distance, giving off serious emo vibes.

"Well, this still beats the Battle of Hogwarts. Right?" Neville said, trying to lighten the atmosphere. "Although... maybe you weren't there? I don't recall-"

"I was there," Nico said abruptly, cutting him off. "Now cut the crap and let's just get on with this, shall we?"

Neville just stared at the boy whom he had agreed to partner up with. What was with him? He was so uptight, so fierce. He found he wanted to thaw him, to make one last human connection in this cold, dreadful world before he checked out for good.

"I have no idea how to play." Neville shrugged. "Marbles is the kind of game people like my gran used to play." He paused, swallowing down the lump in his throat. "Although they said we're free to create our own rules, so I guess it doesn't matter how we do it."

"Whatever." Nico muttered dully, his expression surlier than ever. "Just choose something, would you?"

A silence fell. Neville looked around at his surroundings, recognising this 'town' in which was supposed to be Harry's birth place. Godrics Hollow.

He wondered briefly how Harry was doing, his heart twisting when he recalled that he'd partnered up with Luna, dear sweet Luna who would rather die herself than be the cause of someone else's death.

Sighing heavily, he sat down on a nearby stone wall, one which overlooked the church cemetery. He couldn't help but note that it was a hauntingly beautiful place to spend the last moments of one's life - a lot nicer than that horrifying cornfield with the freaky old lady doll shooting at them, at any rate.

"Let's... end the game with a single round."

Nico just looked at him.

"Let's bet everything and just play one round." Neville repeated, nodding pointedly across the road to where two Hufflepuffs were playing a fraught game of marbles, both of them cursing and panicking. "Is that what you want to be doing until the clock runs out?"

"Fine." Nico bit, removing his marble pouch from his pocket. "Come on. What are we playing, then?"

"Why are you in such a hurry? Are you dying to kill me?" A playful smile curved at Neville's lips. "We're playing just one round. We have some time left. Let's do it last minute."

Nico's mouth fell open, a flash of impatience in his green eyes. "Then what are we going to do until then?"

"I dunno," Neville shrugged. "Talk?"

Nico blinked, staring back at him as though he'd just grown another head.

"Talk about what?"

"Things we couldn't tell other people." Neville said, the idea suddenly becoming more appealing to him by the minute. "One of us is going to die here, anyway. No matter what we tell each other, there's no chance of an awkward encounter. Don't you think?"

"I suppose..." Nico muttered, re-pocketing his marble pouch to lazily push back his sleek black fringe off his eyes.

And this time, Neville turned to look at his companion, to really look at him, wanting to see beyond the number 067 on his tracksuit.

"So tell me, friend. What's your story?"

*****

Nico surveyed his partner with some kind of trepidation. Was he really going to spend his last possible moments opening up to Neville Longbottom, of all people?

It had been bizarre enough that he'd formed a sort of kinship with the younger Patil sister, Nico having found her company oddly comforting. He'd always wanted a younger sibling himself, and found that Alia had fitted that description quite aptly.

He felt a flicker of apprehension on her behalf, and then quickly stemmed it. There was no room to get sentimental about anyone in this place.

But here was Neville Longbottom, offering him a last chance to open up and just talk. And Nico could already tell that this kindly Gryffindor would never judge him, unlike he himself had done to him once upon a time.

"There's not much to tell," Nico lied, choosing to tread carefully. "Just the usual textbook crap - I tried to be the person I thought my parents wanted me to be, not who I felt comfortable being. As a result, I never felt as though I fitted in at school, never truly felt like me."

"I hear ya," Neville said heavily, shoving his hands deep in his pockets as he scuffed his not-so white plimsolls on the ground. "Not quite the same, but everyone expected me to be like my parents from the off. However, I was an awkward, clumsy disappointment to everyone who had known them. First year, I even fell off my broomstick in front of the whole class. I could take the pain of a broken wrist, but not the humiliation of knowing I did not fit in."

Nico looked at him, recalling that event quite vividly. He'd called him a fat crybaby in a bid to impress Draco and the rest of the Slytherins.

"I'm sorry," Nico said hoarsely, suddenly feeling utterly ashamed. "You- you never deserved that."

Neville just looked at him, his burning gaze making him glance away uneasily.

"Tell me, Nico," Neville spoke quietly, his eyes still surveying him carefully. "If you leave here with that money, what will you do with it?"

Nico shrugged, wondering just how much more he was prepared to share with the Gryffindor. In the end, he decided there was nothing left to lose.

"Well, that's easy," Nico said, pausing to take a deep breath as he looked directly into Neville's eyes. "I'd use it to find my son."

*****

2nd May, 1998 - The Battle of Hogwarts (Four years earlier)

The noise above their heads was deafening. Pansy could not look at anyone, could not bear to see the accusation in their eyes.

Because it had all been her fault. She was the reason they were all locked up like animals inside a cage, wands confiscated so that they could not escape.

"Why did you say it?" Daphne whispered in her ear, her voice a frightened tremble. "Why could you not just have kept quiet?"

"Because I don't want to die!" Pansy hissed. "Is that so wrong?"

"And how's that working out for you?" Millicent bit nastily. "Now, thanks to you, we're all going to die in here!"

"All right, let her be," Blaise spoke in his calm, smooth voice, immediately silencing the angry murmurs of agreement in the cage. "Come on, if Pansy hadn't tried to turn Potter in then I would have. And don't pretend you weren't all thinking the same. This is his battle, not ours."

Pansy threw him a grateful look. She always liked Blaise. He had a way of calming any situation down. Everyone listened to him, his audience always entirely captivated by his silky tones and hypnotic beauty.

No one argued, but no one said anything else. Instead, the sounds of quiet weeping could be heard as the castle continued to dangerously shake above them whilst the likes of Crabbe and Goyle returned to trying to prise open the iron bars with their brute strength.

Only when two masked Death Eaters arrived at the scene, did everyone think they were saved.

Except they weren't. Far from it, in Pansy's case.

It was the taller one of the two who took her, plucked her from the cage like a fox picking a chicken for his tea.

The shock of what was happening rendered everyone speechless. Pansy never saw who the second Death Eater took, but she knew he took someone because there was another struggle behind her as a rough male voice ordered someone to keep still.

She was dragged to an empty classroom, thrown roughly down onto the cold hard floor. Pansy would never forget the coldness of the stone pressing against her cheek as she was pinned down by a suffocatingly heavy weight, never forget the tears and snot that pooled around her face on the ground, almost drowning her.

But most of all, she would never forget the act of evil that was bestowed upon her by the vile human being who had violated her body - a body she had been battling to accept all through her teenage life, a body she knew she would never be able to look at in the mirror again.

It was this final act of horror which had sealed it for him.

Because Pansy never came out of that empty classroom where she was brutally raped by a Death Eater.

Only Nico did.

*****

Neville found he was holding his breath, the horror of what Nico had just told him shocking him more than when Harry Potter had asked him to chop off a random snake's head.

"Did you- did you know who did that to you- I mean to Pansy, I mean- sorry..." Neville took a moment to stop tripping over his words. Now was not the time to start acting like his old bumbling idiot self. "I have to admit I'm finding what you went through a little difficult to wrap my head around, but I promise you, I am trying."

"It's okay," Nico said at once, his eyes listless as he folded his arms around himself, shivering slightly. "It's still something I'm dealing with myself, in all honesty. And yes... I knew exactly who it was. And no, I don't want to say who."

"Your child... what happened to him?"

A great wave of sadness appeared to wash over Nico's pale features, his face tense, as though he was trying hard not to cry.

"He was whisked away the moment I closed my eyes after his birth. My parents told me he had died in the night. I refused to believe it, hounding them for days, weeks, months afterwards, trying to get them to go over the events of his death. But they refused to talk about it, refused to act as though anything had even happened. It was as though my baby had simply never existed."

"Fuck." Neville breathed, not knowing what else there was to say.

"And so," Nico continued, his words coming out like a helpless waterfall, "I began to put all my efforts into figuring out who I was, knowing it was the first step to finding my son. Needless to say, my parents were less than supportive of my choices, and they eventually rid of me just like they'd ridden of their own grandchild."

A profound silence fell between them as Neville took in the saddest story he'd ever heard, the silence only being broken when a loud gunshot echoed throughout the 'town', making them both flinch.

"Player 453, eliminated."

It was like a wrench in Neville's heart. Oliver Wood... his good friend. Dead. He looked away, knowing it was not the time to show Nico his own pain, not after what he had just told him.

"What about you?" Nico asked, his question almost surprising Neville. "What'll you do if you leave here with the money?"

Neville blinked, searching his brain for an answer. The sad truth was, he didn't have one. And he suddenly felt deeply ashamed for being there in the first place.

"I haven't thought about it," he said truthfully. "Gran is dead. My parents are as good as. I just came here because I had nowhere else to go. So I haven't thought about what I'd do if I get out."

The look of pity Nico gave him disconcerted him, as though Neville himself had been the one to tell the most tragic tale - not Nico.

Feeling his face heat with shame, Neville glanced at the clock. Less than five minutes to go.

It was time. And Neville knew what he was going to do. There was no question of it, of course.

So, rising to his feet, he glanced across at the graveyard one last time. "Are you ready?"

In his peripheral vision, he could see Nico nod. Neville attempted to swallow down the lump in his throat as he removed his pouch of marbles from his pocket.

"How shall we play?" Nico asked, looking unsure of himself.

Neville stood back from the wall he had been sat on, positioning himself next to Nico as they stood shoulder to shoulder.

"Whoever throws a marble closest to the wall wins. What do you think?"

Nico nodded. "Who should go first?"

"You can go first." Neville said at once, ignoring the tight feeling in his chest. "Your number is before mine, too."

Neville watched as Nico, with a trembling hand, removed a marble and threw it. It landed close, but equally easily beatable.

Not that it mattered.

When Neville took his turn, he closed his eyes and thought of his dear old gran, and his Trevor who perished only the year before. How he missed them both so much.

I'm on my way, guys.

And with that, he let the marble drop at his feet.

A beat.

"What are you doing?"

"I lost." Neville was surprised at how calm his words came out... how calm he felt.

Nico whirled around to face him, a mixture of anger and panic in his eyes as he grabbed the front of Neville's tracksuit and shook him, his voice shrill.

"What do you think you're doing?"

Neville gave a nonchalant lift of his shoulders. "The marble just slipped."

"I don't need your pity! You thought I'd be grateful? Throw it again. Throw it again!"

"Even if I did, I wouldn't be able to win anyway. Just let me lose in style."

"Stop acting cool and just throw it again!"

"No."

Nico let go, staggering a centimetre backwards, his face falling in utter disbelief at what Neville was doing. "What?"

"You have a reason to leave this place. But I don't.  Since you asked me... I've been thinking about what I'd do once I get out. But no matter how much I think, I can't think of one. Someone with a good reason should be the one to leave. That's the right thing. Make sure you leave this place alive. And... find your son. Get your son back, Nico. Get the life you finally deserve."

Neville fell silent, knowing his words were never truer. Because he knew what he was doing was the right thing. And for the first time in his life, he felt a peacefulness wash over him. He was never meant to win that money.

But maybe someone like Nico was.

"Neville-" Nico whispered, his eyes filling with tears as his voice trembled. "Please-"

"Goodbye, Nico," Neville said, firmly pressing his pouch of marbles into Nico's hand. "It was truly an honour to play my last game with you."

With tears spilling down his cheeks, Nico nodded. His mouth opened, but words did not come.

Neville understood - sometimes words were just not enough.

And, as Nico turned and walked away, Neville felt the cold tip of the gun press against his temple, and, just before the trigger was pulled, he saw his gran waving from between the graves in the churchyard with Trevor on her shoulder... waiting.

*****

Nico froze as the gunshot echoed loudly throughout the town and reverberated against his soul.

And, as a soft thud of a body landed heavily on the ground behind him, he squeezed shut his eyes, suppressing the sob which had caught in his throat.

"Player 240, eliminated."

*****