"Do or die? What about, I don't know, take a nap and try again later?" - Neville, age 17, to Professor Amycus Carrow's ugly face.

Ginny pulled the blinds up with a whip of sound, allowing far too much sunlight into his bedroom.

"Ugh, Gin no!" Neville rolled over and pulled the blanket over his head, trying to hold onto the dream that was rapidly fading into forgotten memory.

"Time to rejoin the world, you recluse," she said sourly, pulling on his comforter.

He got the edge with one hand, trying to keep it over his head. Sunlight. Bad.

"Ginny, stop it. I'm trying to sleep!"

But she had always been strong for her size and she managed to wiggle it from his grasp and throw it into the corner. "Sweet Pygmy Puff, it smells like a dirty sock in here, Nev. When is the last time you cleaned this place?"

He threw an elbow over his eyes and lay on the bed. In misery. "Leave me alone."

"I will not," she insisted. "I'll be back every day, raining sunshine on your pity parade until you're so miserable you have to rejoin the world of the living."

There were worse threats. He rolled over. "See you tomorrow then."

He heard her growl of frustration, felt the bed shove a bit, and then she was laying next to him.

A sniff.

"Ueewwwgghh! Nev, you need a shower. You are ripe. There's crumbs in your beard, good lord!"

"Don't like it? Leave," he repeated, a bit harder. Last night, Hannah had dropped off a box of his stuff he'd left at her place, and by 'dropped off' he meant she threw it through the Floo so hard most of his possessions broke on impact.

And the crying. She'd been crying as she yelled at him from the other side, blaming him for ruining both their lives. For breaking her heart. For leading her on for years. All true, and yet somehow, he wanted to yell back.

And never had he wanted to yell at Hannah like that before. Oh, but he wanted to.

To remind her that he was suffering too, that he only wanted to be honest about his feelings and felt like she didn't give two lollipop licks about it. What was he supposed to do? Lie? Keep pretending? He didn't expect her to be happy about their breakup, but surely she could understand why?

"This whole place is a disaster. Your fireplace has a bunch of broken glass and your sink is full of dirty dishes, Nev. When is the last time you left the house or ate something that didn't come in a take out box?" Ginny asked, sounding concerned instead of ticked off. Maybe she was done being angry with him, now that she could see the end result.

He would die, miserable and alone, for his crimes against women.

Good grief, kids these days are too emotional.

The sudden, erratic thought had him groaning. It was his voice, his mind. But it wasn't him. It wasn't the first time his mind whispered to him, as if in conversation, and he didn't think it would be the last, but a part of his brain had really gone off the deep end of the Black Lake and sunk into the Mermaid Forests.

Maybe he was insane.

After the war, Hermione dragged him and a bunch of their friends into group therapy. To talk about what happened during 7th year and not let any feelings fester. He learned about something called PTSD, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Some Healer from St. Mungo's said he was in the clear, but in some cases it took time before symptoms showed up.

It seemed his time was up.

Developing another personality in his head to talk to himself was right up there on the loony scale, he didn't have to be a healer to know that. He could check himself into the permanent ward right alongside his parents. "Janus Thickey here I come."

Gin was silent for a few moments before she shoved him. Hard. "Neville, what the hell is your deal? You are the one who broke up with Hannah, why are you moping around and talking crazy talk?"

"I don't know, damnit. I feel horrible. Crushed. Even though I'm the one who did the crushing, I never said it made sense but that's how I feel. I keep having these dreams…"

"Dreams?"

He finally lowered his elbow and turned on his side, facing his friend. She looked better than he felt, awake for one. Damn, but he felt tired, not recalling the last time he got a full night's worth of sleep. The sunlight didn't help, a migraine forming right behind the eyes. "Yes, they keep me up all night and I can't get any rest. It's the guilt isn't it? But I know I did the right thing, so why do I feel so rotten?"

"Why don't we go get some potion supplies and brew you up a batch of Dreamless Sleep? Just a few, to help you get some shut eye. You'll feel better once you've had a full 8 hours," she nudged him in shoulder, far more gently than her earlier shove.

"I'll buy, you brew?" Nev suggested hopefully.

Because if he had to pull out his old potion texts and notes to try to remember the Dreamless Sleep Potion lesson from 3rd year, then he really might check himself into St. Mungo's for good.