There was cheering coming from the common room. It was quite loud and even some of the portraits hanging on the walls of the changing stairs were covering their ears. Who'd have thought you could hear THAT MUCH if you were sitting outside the Gryffindor Common Room portrait. Though, it was the Fat Lady. She had a tendency to keep her frame open. Wanted the other portraits to see how much fun students had with her guarding the entrance way. She had good reason, if you wanted to give credit when it was due; Gryffindor had just won their second Quidditch Cup in a row.
Whatever the reason, Dean Thomas had had quite enough. It was late, he had a Herbology test coming up and, to be honest, all his mates were annoying him in only the way that proper mates can annoy you when all you want is to be left alone. He took out his wand and waved it at a pile of dirt, causing the small particles to dance and take shape into various objects.
"Doesn't seem that hard," he muttered. He swished his wand to the left and the dirt specks formed into a broom. Another swish to the top and the broom transformed into frog.
"Well, that one sort of looks like Trevor."
Dean looked up and lost his concentration. The dust fell and he sighed a massive sigh. "Hullo, Nev."
Neville poked the rest of his body out from the Fat Lady's portrait and shut it behind him. Instantly, the noise died down to the point where Dean could have heard footsteps walking along the hallways. It was really hard to sneak around the castle sometimes...
"You alright, mate?" Neville was rubbing his neck and looking uncomfortable, like he didn't really want to be there asking Dean how his night was as everyone else was partying it up.
"Why wouldn't I be alright?"
"Well, I mean, we're celebrating another win...but you're out here moping about."
Dean glared, "I'm not mopey. It was just too loud for me." Who did Neville think he was anyway? Obviously, if Dean had wanted company, he would have waltzed back into the Common Room and chatted with loads of people. Obviously, he just felt like being alone. Obviously-Dean sighed-he looked pretty pathetic. Slouched on the floor, flinging his wand around, Quidditch robes still intact. The only thing missing was a bottle of strong Firewhiskey in hand to complete the look of a poor sod.
"I brought you a Butterbeer." Neville extended his hand and waved the bottle in front of Dean's head. The image was so absurd, with the thought he just had, that Dean managed to chuckle a bit and scoot over for his mate. Neville slid down the wall and together, they opened up their Butterbeers and drank in silence. Eventually, Neville spoke.
"Is this about Ginny?"
"Nah, man. Just feeling a bit overwhelmed."
Neville nodded and looked away. He was biting the inside of his cheek and fiddling with something only the Neville-eye could see. Dean sighed and closed his eyes.
"What."
"Huh?"
Dean groaned and waved his hands, "You've got something to say. Go ahead and say it. And don't try and lie, saying I don't know what I'm talking about. We've been in the same room for six years now, I think I know when you're wanting to talk. Merlin knows you don't do it enough anyway."
There was a chuckle as Neville turned pink and shrugged, "I was just thinking you're doing much better than I would be."
"What are you talking about?" Dean turned and furrowed his brows.
"I'm just saying," Neville wished he had brought another Butterbeer right about now. He felt awkward with nothing to play with, "That if it were me. I would be a mess after losing Ginny and seeing her kiss my mate after a Quidditch win. It's like my brain wouldn't know whether to be happy or jealous. Or sad or angry."
Dean was shocked as he looked at his friend. Neville had hit it right on the head. Who was Dean to pout and steal glances and take away from the moment at hand. Gryffindor had won again, for Merlin's sake. He should be over the moon, but instead all he could think about was Ginny running up and kissing Harry right in front of him.
Not that Harry cared at all. He barely said anything when he found out he and Ginny had broken up. Which, on the topic, was something Dean was still confused on. The breakup. He hadn't helped her into the portrait, no matter what that crazy red-head said. Maybe he should have just given in and lied. It seemed like nothing to Dean, but big enough to have Ginny break up with him. Why did it matter?
Why does it matter? They're done, she's moved on. It's not like he even liked her that much. Well, okay, he liked her a lot. Red-heads, man. But he didn't love her, not even close. The way that she just bounced back to Harry-He thought 'bounced back' because it was obvious from her first year Harry was hers, even though neither really knew it yet-that's what bothered him the most. Feeling second place all the time makes you act like it, too.
He mentioned this to Neville; seemed like a guy you could tell things too. More of a solid person than anyone would give credit.
"When else have you been runner-up?" Neville was almost laughing, which angered Dean, but he didn't say anything.
"Just, I mean, the whole Quidditch thing..." He regretted opening up to Neville now, but he thought that if he were to open up to anyone besides Seamus, it should be someone who is a decent bloke.
"What, because you replaced Katie Bell? If anyone was going to take her place, it should be you. You deserved it."
"I suppose. But it's just one thing after another, yeah? Not quite right for Ginny, not quite right for Quidditch. What else am I going to be 'not quite' for?"
There had been talk of You-Know-Who coming back for ages. Of war and fighting and terrible things. If something were to happen, whose tailcoats would he be riding? It was an odd feeling, knowing that you would never be a leader and waiting for someone else to make the first move.
"I think you're underestimating your worth. It's like you're forgetting there are other people in the world besides heroes. Heros aren't heroes unless they've got strong people to back them up." Neville was nodding, like he was telling himself to speak, "I bet your time to shine is sooner than you think. I know I'd want you to lead if it came to it."
Dean smiled and laughed, he was feeling better. "Thanks, Nev. You know, you're alright with words. I bet you could lead too, if you wanted."
"Someday, maybe if I have to. Something has to be important enough, you know?"
Dean and Neville sat in silence for a couple minutes before the portrait opened up and Seamus stuck his head out. His cheeks were rosy and his hair was tousled. Dean had a feeling there was more than Butterbeer in the Commons.
"Mate! There ye are! Been lookin' everywhere fer ye." His Irish drawl was always more pronounced when he drank, "Oi, they're askin' fer all the players to gather fer a picture. What are ye doin' out here? 'Ello, Neville!" Seamus smiled brightly, not knowing that he had stepped into a conversation that was far from light.
"Tell them we're coming, Seamus." Dean stood up and extended a friendly hand to Neville. They walked into the Commons together and both thought that Harry Potter or not, they were glad they had each other for friends. Silently they both made a pact: someday they would stop being runner-up. And when that time came, they would have each other's backs, Harry Potter or not.
~~~doubelily