A/N: So, um, yeah. This is chapter three. The big, uh, three. Yeah. I think you'll have it figured out. I'm going to get a start on, uh, you know, chapter four. FUN FACT: On spellchecker for OpenOfiice, did you know that "Neville" isn't a word, whereas "Seville" is? 'Kay. /lame and unnecessary author's note

Beth's dormitory was empty, save for Parvati Patil with her face buried in a pillow. It smelled like a mixture of firewhiskey and pot smoke, but Beth had grown used to it over the course of the epidemic. All of the beds were unmade. But I made my bed this morning... Oh gosh... They didn't. Beth thought miserably, looking at her bed hopelessly. She tore off all the sheets and put them next to her bed, unable to recall a spell to clean sin off of bedsheets. After taking the pillowcases off of the pillows, she finally felt safe enough to lie down and sleep.

The obnoxious pounding in her head startled her awake. She sat up suddenly and a high-pitched something sounded in her head. It was a loud, screaming noise that refused to cease. "FORGIVE HIM!" It wailed mercilessly. "HE'S TRYING HIS HARDEST!" Half of Beth's upper lip raised with disgust and anger.

"Shut up..." she mumbled, lowering her head back to the pillow, grabbing her head. "I don't know what you're talking about."

The voice stopped screaming for a moment. "You know perfectly well what I'm talking about, Elizabeth!" The screaming then continued.

"I hope you're planning on telling me anyway, you little bugger... And for Merlin's sake, stop screaming!" she exclaimed. Beth then realized she was talking to a voice in her head and giggled.

Under the screaming, one word flashed in her mind: "Neville." She smacked herself in the forehead. Duh. Forgive him... Forgive Neville? He is not trying his hardest. I know that. If he was really trying as hard as he could, he would've stopped by now. Alcoholism isn't so bad... I think... Beth then thought of her parents, who never touched alcohol but still somehow ended up with the Longbottoms in St. Mungo's.

Beth raised her head and took a large gulp of the bottle of scotch in her hand. It tasted good and it filled her body with warmth to the edges of her skin. She dropped the the bottle off of the edge of the mass she was laying on, though she heard no thud.

Beth raised herself to her elbows and peered over the edge and saw nothing but a seemingly endless black pit. Her hand made contact with her forehead. "Oh, Merl-" The bed plummeted into the nothingness and all that Beth could produce was a loud pitched scream that perfectly matched the one in her head.

"Bloody hell..." Beth mumbled, yawning as she woke up. The plummeting feeling in her stomach still lingered. She felt sick all over. It felt as though there was a tiny person sitting on a cozy chair in her head with a mallet in hand, banging on the inside of her forehead.

She sat up, her arm straight out on the bed to support her. Beth looked around and observed that Parvati had gone but instead, Lavender was now in the room, on the floor at the foot of Beth's bed. "Why do I even bother?" Beth muttered unintelligibly to herself, swinging her legs over the bed and walking to Lavender's feet.

Beth stretched before bending down and grabbing Lavender by the ankles and dragging her unconscious body across the floor and sloppily into the bed, face-down. She looked like a murder victim.

After making her bed, Beth got ready to face the day. Though it was a pointless task as classes could hardly be referred to as thus, it had become routine.

There were bodies scattered throughout the common room and it smelled like sweat and stale sex. Beth's nose crinkled as she went downstairs. Jealousy erupted within her as she scanned the room and spotted Neville surrounded by girls (as well as Seamus, though Beth didn't point it out).

Beth had never been particularly smart or fit or cute. Her hair didn't have the certain shine to it like Ginny's did. She wasn't a bombshell with a "hot body" and she didn't do particularly well in classes. She was, in any and all cases, average. Beth's sister, a gorgeous, cunning Ravenclaw, never failed to remind her that she was "ugly" by comparison, "fat" by comparison, and "stupid" by comparison. Sure, Beth was better than average at Care of Magical Creatures and she had more restraint, but past that, she didn't quite come to par.

The second the wave of jealousy passed, she felt a rush of annoyance and frustration hit her smack-dab in the forehead. What happened to "trying to fix himself"? He's clearly not doing a very good job...

So far, so good... Beth thought as she crept down the stairs quietly, managing to not wake anyone up. This small victory was short-lived, as the moment she took her second step off of the stairs, her foot caught under an upended coffee table and gravity threw her face-first over the table into the ground.

"For crying out loud!" Beth exclaimed loudly as she hit the floor. As though in unison, twenty eyes opened and glared in her direction and groaned at the sudden movement. Beth struggled to her feet, feeling an acute pain in her stomach from having the side of a coffee table lodged in it.

"What in the bloody hell are you doing?" she distinguished Ron Weasley's voice behind her.

Beth muttered an apology and set the coffee table straight again.

"Beth? What are you doing?" Neville grumbled. Beth straightened and turned and walked toward him, grabbing his elbow and forcing him to his feet. She dragged him out of the common room, ready to chew him out.

"What happened to trying to stop? You're clearly not trying very hard, if at all!" Beth hissed.

Neville rubbed the back of his head and said, "I- I didn't do anything."

"That's a terrible lie!" Beth exclaimed.

"Okay..." Neville rubbed his forehead. "I had one drink. One. And then I fell asleep. It's the truth. Ask anyone."

Beth's hand collided with her forehead. "They're all too drunk in there to remember their own names, Neville!"

"I'm not lying!"

"What were all those girls doing, then?" Beth pointed at the portrait of the Fat Lady, who was watching with interest as the two argued quietly.

Neville put his hands up and replied, "I don't know! Listen, Beth, I know this is hard to believe, but you have to know that all I did was come down from my room around midnight and have one drink before I fell asleep. What would I gain from lying to you? You'd find out somehow!"

"That's just it, Neville! If you wouldn't look suspicious, I wouldn't investigate! I don't understand why you fall asleep in the common room with a crowd of girls surrounding you and then bothering lying to me and telling me you're innocent when clearly there's something awry? It's just plain idiotic!" Beth cried, throwing her hands in the air.

A portrait of an elderly man from somewhere in the 1700s then interrupted, "Do you mind? We are trying to sleep!"

Beth glared and the portrait glared back before she looked back at Neville, not really feeling in the mood to fight with art. "Neville, I've told you once. I will stop being mad at you once you fix yourself. Stop drinking, stop everything. Once you can show me that you've gone back to your old self, we can be friends, but as of now, I'd like to not know you. I'm going to the library," she announced and turned on her heel.

"Beth, wait-"

Angrily, Beth turned, her frizzy golden ponytail flipping over onto her shoulder. "I don't want to hear it, Neville! As of right now, I like Draco Malfoy more than you. Do you know why that is? Because he's not being stupid. For once, I think you could actually learn from him," Beth hissed and turned again, hurrying off.

Around the fifth floor on her descent from the Gryffindor tower on the seventh floor to the library on the fourth floor, Beth began to feel guilt chewing at her insides. She had an imposing feeling that she had been wrong about Neville's intentions, though her pride would seldom let her admit her faults. The dream that had taken place in her mind continually returned and she wondered if she should have heeded its advice, as reluctantly as she would've.

Beth could hardly stand herself. Through second, third, and fourth year, Beth had fostered an almost painful admiration and crush on Neville Longbottom, though he wasn't smart or particularly attractive (he wasn't terribly ugly... he was chubby and his ears stuck out and he was short and he had odd-looking teeth), but he was the sweetest guy she knew and he was a hard worker. She knew it was odd for a girl to be so subjective rather than objective like most other adolescent ladies her age, but she figured she was seeing things that others wouldn't because they wouldn't dare give him the time (among other things – Neville was terribly shy, especially around girls).

For example, her heart had nearly melted with excitement when they were in the fourth floor corridor – where Beth was standing now – when Dean had shoved Neville into Beth and forced him to ask her to the Yule Ball. Out of nervousness, she had nearly said no, but sense whacked her in the back of the head and she accepted his offer.

Beth stopped a moment to recall the incident exactly as it had happened.