Next to Hermione, Neville was as motionless as Harry at Enola's side. She looked determined, purposeful, even in her deep sleep. But Neville was pale with worry, his head bowed and lips pressed firmly to his wife's hands, which he clasped firmly between his own. Hermione's heart bled for him, she ached from her worry for him. It was the first time she'd seen the new, strong him break down like this.