Neville Longbottom sat at the edge of a large, fluffy, crimson chair within the currently empty Gryffindor commons. His hair was a shaggy, mahogany mess, his dark blue, cotton pajamas were heavily wrinkled, and his face was streaked with tears.

"Shit," he choked angrily to himself through heavy sobs. "You've worked yourself into a right state again, haven't you? And all over a boy who probably couldn't care less..."

Neville had actually spent the last three nights alone like this in the commons. He found it frustrating that he couldn't control his emotions like his friends could, but he couldn't stop himself. He would get ready for bed, lie down, and get to thinking. His thoughts would wander to the bed across the room, and his imagination would kick in... But then, his mind would snap back to the cold reality of his situation: he had fallen madly in love with one of his only friends, and he would never be able to tell him. He had been able to deal with his feelings for a year or two, but now, only two weeks into his sixth year at Hogwarts, the stress of living in the same room as the object of his affection had come to a boil. He had to hold it in until he was sure everyone else was asleep, then sneak down to the common room, and let his feelings out. It was upsetting to him. The others were so… Gryffindor. What was he then? "I should have been a Hufflepuff."

"Why's that?"

The familiar voice nearly gave Neville a seizure, partly because he had been sure everyone else was asleep, and partly because of whom the voice belonged to. He turned around to see Harry Potter, the object of his grief, standing at the base of the steps. His hair was its usual wild nest of black, and his groggy, emerald eyes were focusing on Neville through dark-rimmed glasses with a worried quizzicality.

"Oh! I-I just…" Neville made a fast attempt to dry his tear-stained eyes and regain some look of composure, though it was a losing battle. He really didn't want to be seen like this by Harry, even if it was too late now. "It's n-nothing… Really, it's noth-"

"Neville," Harry interrupted, "if it were truly nothing, you wouldn't be here in the common room at this ungodly hour, bawling your eyes out. Tell me, what's wrong." The boy took a seat across from Neville, and gave him a concerned, understanding smile.

Neville hated when Harry did this. Or, more so, he hated how whenever Harry gave him this look, he couldn't help but do anything his friend asked or told him. He was helpless. He was always helpless. "I… I want to tell you. I really do, but I can't," he finally said, holding back the urge to spill everything he had been thinking about to Harry.

"We're friends, Neville. I can't make you tell me, obviously, and if it's a promise to someone, I wouldn't want you to break it, but I hope you know you can tell me anything."

"I… It's a promise to myself." Neville couldn't make eye contact with Harry. He tried, but no matter what he did, his eyes fell to the side of him, or his focus went past him. Eventually, he settled for staring at his hands, which were currently engaged in picking at one another.

"Look, Nev…"

"Okay," the boy broke in, "I… Well… See, there's someone I like, but I can't tell the person, because they'll hate me…"

"Neville, I'm sure she won't hate you. In fact, who knows? She might even like you. You're a great guy, Nev, you just won't let yourself see it."

"Well…" Neville was moved almost to giddiness by the fact that Harry though he was a 'great guy'. Still, he found he couldn't lie to him. He cringed a little at what he had been about to admit. "Who… said it was a girl…?"

A look of realization swept over Harry, and he shifted a little in his seat. "Oh… So… you're gay then?"

"Um… Yeah… You… You're not going to tell anyone, are you?"

There was a short silence, during which, Neville could swear his heartbeat was probably quite audible to Harry. Soon though, Harry replied, "of course not… How long have you… you know… known?"

Neville heaved a sigh of relief. He most definitely was not ready to come out to the rest of his peers yet, and he was relieved that his friend hadn't planned to feed him to the wolves, so to speak. (Though, Harry's nervous posture worried him a little.)

"I kinda realized it during second year, though I wasn't sure until third."

"Ah…"

"Do you have a problem with it?" Neville asked. "If you want… I could… stop talking to you… I wouldn't want you to feel uncomfortable." He scoped Harry out, expecting to see powerful nods of approval at this suggestion, but to his surprise, he looked rather calm.

"No," Harry smiled. "Just as long as you don't fancy me, I'm fine."

The words struck Neville like a bullet to the lung. He stopped breathing, and he was sure his heart may have even ceased beating for a moment or two. The room swam around him as his greatest fear had been confirmed. Harry indeed did not have feelings for him. Still unable to take in air, Neville forced a smile, and replied. "Oh… No worries, then."

But Harry wouldn't be fooled so easily. He must have picked up on Neville's body language, because his playful grin slid from his face. "Nev… You're lying to me, aren't you?"

Neville's eyes widened with fear. "Harry…" he whispered, anxiety forcing him back to the verge of tears. He could see the look on his friend's face. "No, Harry, I ju-"

"Nev, you can tell me the truth. It might be a bit awkward to deal with at first, but believe me, I'm not going to stop being your friend just because you happen to have a little crush on me."

A "little crush". That's a laugh! He thought. But still, he gave Harry the closest thing to the truth he could bear. "I… yes… But you don't have to worry! I can trade dorms with someone, and I can sit on the other side of Dean for meals, and I can ma-"

"Nev, you're rambling," Harry said, looking somewhat deep in thought. Finally, his gaze met Neville's, who had been staring at him with worried eyes. "Look, Nev… I'm straight. Nothing's going to change that. But I'm not homophobic, either… It's just… Give me a little time. I'm not going to stop talking to you, or make you keep a distance, or anything, but, say for tomorrow at least, just give me a little bit of space. I just need time to process everything…"

"O-okay," Neville managed. But it didn't feel okay. The nagging little voice in the back of his brain was doing its best to convince him that Harry probably hated him now, and it was slowly winning the rest of him over.

"Thanks," Harry said with a small sigh of relief. He then let out a long, forceful yawn, and stood, stretching his torso and arms upward. "Well, I'm knackered. I'm headed back up to bed. Come on. It's late, and I'm sure you need the sleep, too."

Neville nodded absently, and stood, following Harry back up to the dorm. Once the door closed, he walked over to his bed, slid into it, not bothering to lift the sheets, or even close his curtain, and lie there, facing away from Harry. He simply stared out the window, and waited patiently for sleep to claim him.