"I can never do anything right." He said while looking at himself in the
mirror.
His eyebrows were singed, his face tinged red and quite sore, but at least
it was no longer black; as it had been earlier.
He rubbed his sore face hoping it would help, he was wrong, again. He
really did feel like he could never do anything right, this thought made
him very sad, he wished for someone to talk to; a true friend.
"No one wants to befriend a screw-up." He was talking to himself, he did
this a lot; it made him feel as if he had someone to talk to.
He was quiet for a while, thinking and looking at himself in the mirror. He
stayed this far to long and started getting mad, he hit the mirror; it
shattered, and he left the room.
He walked out into the hall and ran into someone, he fell backwards and hit
his head on a suit of armor.
"Great, I can't even walk to the common room without messing it up." he
thought angrily.
"Longbottom! You ran into me you twerp!" Draco Malfoy yelled angrily, he
kicked at Neville.
"I'm so sorry Malfoy!" Neville squeaked and stood up quickly, getting ready
to run off; if need be.
Malfoy just glared, and turned on his heel; stalking back to Slytherin
common room.
Neville was relieved; he didn't want to be hexed tonight, he was feeling
bad enough as it is.
Once Neville finally got to Gryffindor common room he sat alone in a corner, trying to avoid being seen. Neville wasn't really in the mood to be made fun of or patronized. Unfortunately Harry saw him come in. Harry walked over to him and sat down beside him. "Hey Neville, how are you?" Harry said, smiling contently, which Neville thought odd, because it didn't look like one of Harry's forced smiles. "Please don't take this personally Harry, but go the fuck away." Neville said and rested his forehead on his left knee; he looked as if he was ready to cry. "Neville. What's wrong?" Harry asked him; sounding genuinely concerned. "I said go away." Neville repeated weakly. He was shaking a bit. "Let's go upstairs, we can talk there." Harry replied persistently, hauling Neville to his feet and pulling him towards the stairs. Neville followed, walked along a bit. He felt a strange numb come upon him. He wondered why? Neville thought he would like to be alone with Harry, talk to him, get to know him; but now he just felt numb.
Once upstairs Harry pulled Neville onto his bed, Harry sat down beside Neville and looked him over. "You should have gone to see Poppy." Harry said brushing his fingers over Neville's pink cheeks. Neville knew he should feel uncomfortable, but he didn't. He looked at Harry but did not reply. He stared at Harry, looked into his eyes, there was no judgment in his eyes, just mild concern and a bit of sadness. "Why is he sad?" Neville wondered. Harry knew Neville wasn't going to respond, he caressed Neville's cheek with his thumb, and his right hand was sifting through Neville's hair. Harry wondered why Neville seemed more relaxed now; maybe he felt the same way about Harry as Harry felt about him? Or maybe Neville never got affection at home? This thought was highly plausible and it angered Harry. Harry loved Neville. Harry still loves Neville. Neville turned his head slightly; looking at the wall. Neville felt like a child, he felt like that was how Harry was treating him. Like someone who had to be looked after and worried about. He had no idea how wrong he was. Harry felt as if he were about to cry, Neville's looking away felt like rejection; something Harry couldn't handle. That's why Harry never told Neville how he felt, how he feels; his fear of rejection is so great. Harry felt as if that simple turn of head had slashed his heart. His eyes went cold, his face fell, he looked a bit like Snape; unhappy, but unreachable. Harry continued to stroke Neville's hair, his other hand brushing fingertips over sore skin. Neville did nothing to encourage or discourage this. So they both stayed that way until Neville fell asleep, then Harry went to his own bed and cried himself to sleep.
Once Neville finally got to Gryffindor common room he sat alone in a corner, trying to avoid being seen. Neville wasn't really in the mood to be made fun of or patronized. Unfortunately Harry saw him come in. Harry walked over to him and sat down beside him. "Hey Neville, how are you?" Harry said, smiling contently, which Neville thought odd, because it didn't look like one of Harry's forced smiles. "Please don't take this personally Harry, but go the fuck away." Neville said and rested his forehead on his left knee; he looked as if he was ready to cry. "Neville. What's wrong?" Harry asked him; sounding genuinely concerned. "I said go away." Neville repeated weakly. He was shaking a bit. "Let's go upstairs, we can talk there." Harry replied persistently, hauling Neville to his feet and pulling him towards the stairs. Neville followed, walked along a bit. He felt a strange numb come upon him. He wondered why? Neville thought he would like to be alone with Harry, talk to him, get to know him; but now he just felt numb.
Once upstairs Harry pulled Neville onto his bed, Harry sat down beside Neville and looked him over. "You should have gone to see Poppy." Harry said brushing his fingers over Neville's pink cheeks. Neville knew he should feel uncomfortable, but he didn't. He looked at Harry but did not reply. He stared at Harry, looked into his eyes, there was no judgment in his eyes, just mild concern and a bit of sadness. "Why is he sad?" Neville wondered. Harry knew Neville wasn't going to respond, he caressed Neville's cheek with his thumb, and his right hand was sifting through Neville's hair. Harry wondered why Neville seemed more relaxed now; maybe he felt the same way about Harry as Harry felt about him? Or maybe Neville never got affection at home? This thought was highly plausible and it angered Harry. Harry loved Neville. Harry still loves Neville. Neville turned his head slightly; looking at the wall. Neville felt like a child, he felt like that was how Harry was treating him. Like someone who had to be looked after and worried about. He had no idea how wrong he was. Harry felt as if he were about to cry, Neville's looking away felt like rejection; something Harry couldn't handle. That's why Harry never told Neville how he felt, how he feels; his fear of rejection is so great. Harry felt as if that simple turn of head had slashed his heart. His eyes went cold, his face fell, he looked a bit like Snape; unhappy, but unreachable. Harry continued to stroke Neville's hair, his other hand brushing fingertips over sore skin. Neville did nothing to encourage or discourage this. So they both stayed that way until Neville fell asleep, then Harry went to his own bed and cried himself to sleep.