Neville sat at the edge of his bed, his leg in a brace and bandages wrapped around his chest. He looked haggard, but his face brightened at the sight of her.

"Hermione!"

Her chest cracked open as she ran to his bedside, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. "I've missed you."

He gripped her back as tightly as he could.

"You too. I've been waiting to see your name in the papers. I had no idea you were here!"

The lump in her throat grew. She pulled back, dragging over a chair to sit beside him. "How are you? Ginny told me about Nagini, and then I read about you in the paper—"

"The Prophet was right, for once." He gave her a lopsided grin. "They were able to stop the poison from spreading, but I only got the antidote this week. But they failed to mention my leg." He lifted up the brace. "That was broken for a while, so they had to regrow it."

Hermione winced. "For a while?"

"Yeah. The Rookwoods, they… well, you don't have to hear it." He scratched his stubble. Two of his fingers were missing.

A twisting sickness churned her gut. She tore her eyes away.

"Sorry," he said quietly. "It's been like that for a while, so I forget that it'll shock some." Hermione shook her head, but he still slid his hand beneath the sheets. "How are you?"

She opened her mouth to speak, trying to find the words. None came.

"Never mind that. What matters is that you're here now. We both are." His throat bobbed. "I knew you were still in there when I saw you at Hogwarts, Hermione. I knew it."

Hermione blinked at him, her heart beginning to pound. He didn't know. They hadn't told him that she was "sick." That made the next part easier.

"Neville," she said carefully. "I want to tell you something. It's very important to me that you try to listen before you react."

His eyes flickered, but the wariness faded into something trusting and soft. "Alright."

She drew a sharp inhale. "I heard that you went to Hogwarts to finish the job that Harry started." Neville nodded, and she twisted her hands in her lap. "Before that, your magic returned and your tattoo disappeared. Did they tell you how?"

Frowning, Neville shook his head. "I've barely heard anything. Ginny only had a few minutes to say hello, and everyone else is out fighting right now. I assumed someone in the True Order broke the curse—"

"It wasn't a curse. It was a potion. An antidote for the tattoo, mixed with something to counter the effects of magic suppression." Hermione felt her voice grow steadier, her spine straighter. "I made that antidote, Neville. I spent a year on it. I brewed it, tested it on myself, and sent it out to Charlotte to give to the True Order."

Neville's lips parted, his eyes wide. "But how could—?"

"Because Narcissa Malfoy lent me her wand and gave me full use of the Malfoy library. Because I was never magic suppressed after I left the Palace Theatre. Because the Malfoys have their own agenda. They never supported Voldemort the way the world thought they did."