"It's late." Harry sat up and stretched. "We ought to get some sleep, in case they get the message from LeStrange tomorrow."

Ginny nodded and let her feet drop from the coffee table and stood up. "Thanks for the talk, Harry. You're a pretty good distraction."

He flushed and wasn't sure why. They had only wasted the past couple of hours blathering about their friends at Hogwarts, and the classes she'd be taking next year. Nothing important at all. Nothing they hadn't talked about already since he'd been there.

But she was right. It was a distraction. "You, too," he replied with a smile.

They moved to the stairs and started climbing slowly.

She stopped halfway up and turned back to him. "I want to say something, and I'm going to blurt it out now that I'm tired and not thinking as clearly as usual."

His eyebrows flew up, and his hand tightened on the railing. "Okay."

She flushed, but spoke evenly. "I'm really glad you're here. And not just for your sake, though I know you're glad to be away from the Muggles. I'm glad you're here for my own sake. Because I like you. I mean…you know. I don't dislike you. I don't mean that I…" She sighed and turned, instantly moving up the stairs again. "I don't know why I bother to open my mouth sometimes. Bloody nonsense."

Harry followed her slowly, smiling uncontrollably.

She was still grumbling as she headed for the door to her bedroom.

He stopped her by grabbing her arm gently. "Ginny?"

She looked back with something like apprehension in her eyes.

He smiled. "I…uh. Well, thanks for not letting me go on being a prat. You…well. You made me see what's been right in front of me." He studied her thoughtfully.

Her eyes widened, but she pulled away fast. "Okay. I'm going to go now." She moved fast and vanished into the room, all nervous energy.

Harry grinned to himself, thinking it odd that after all the growing up Ginny had done, she still ran from him like she had when she was ten.

It was sort of cute.

He couldn't shake the smile as he went into the room he now shared with Neville.

It vanished once he was inside, though, and saw Neville huddled on his bed, head in his hands.

He went to the bed instantly. He felt a lot less awkward with Neville since they'd started sharing the room. "Hey. Did something happen? What's wrong?"

Neville shook his head and looked up, his eyes red. "I keep seeing him."

"Seeing…Ron?" Harry sat down beside him, touching his shoulder in support.

Neville sniffed and nodded. "I have this dream. Where he's in St Mungo's, right next to my parents."

Harry breathed in, feeling a sharp measure of sympathy. Yeah, Ron was Harry's best friend, but obviously Neville felt close to him. They had to be close for this to be tearing Neville apart so badly.

Neville wiped his eyes. "I keep seeing him…and he's as blank as they are. And I can't see him like that! He looks at me and doesn't know me, just like…them, and…"

Harry moved his arm around Neville loosely. "That won't happen," he said firmly. "Ron won't…"

Neville shook his head, looking up with burning eyes. "My parents were aurors. And they were good at it. They were really strong. If they could lose their minds, Ron could as well. I'm so scared, Harry."

Harry hugged him then, trying hard not to think about Ron sitting in some hospital bed with vacant eyes and a blank face. "I'm scared as well," he confessed. "I love him, you know? He's the best friend I've ever had."

Neville pulled back, his eyes gleaming strangely. "I love him, too," he replied, quiet.

Harry smiled tightly and patted his back. "We should get some sleep. We're both tired from the last few nights." He sighed. "Maybe if we're in the same room our nightmares will stay away, eh?"

Neville was still looking at him, searching almost. "Ron slept with me. That helped more than anything."

Harry's brow furrowed. "Slept with you? You mean in the same bed?"

Neville nodded.

Harry thought about that. "Probably comforting. Ron and I did that a few nights, years ago, the first time I stayed at the Burrow." He smiled. "And he would stay with me sometimes at Hogwarts, though he never went to sleep there. It did help."

"It did. I miss it." Neville looked away from Harry. "I miss Ron."

"Well, then." Harry stood up, going to his bed and grabbing the pillow. "We should try that. It might help us both."

Neville blinked in surprise as Harry dropped his pillow next to Neville's on the mattress. "Harry. You don't understand."

Harry peeled off his shirt and reached for his pajamas. "What? You don't want…"

"I love him. And he loves me. And we slept in the same bed."

Harry blinked. He stopped dead, pajama shirt in his hands. He stared.

Neville frowned. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have told you like that."

Harry stared some more.

Neville flushed. "Harry, it's…"

Harry spoke mechanically. "It's not true. Ron would have told me."

Neville sighed and looked away from him. "It only happened this summer."

"He still would have—"

"And when did you give him a chance to?" Neville snapped back.

Harry stood there, frozen. Ron and Neville were…but…

Ron? And Neville?

Harry couldn't get his mind around it.

Neville looked at him again, his eyes swirling with emotion. "Harry. It's not…the whole thing was really strange. It's not like we've been creeping around deliberately keeping secrets. We've had an odd time figuring out just how we felt."

Harry shook his head. Not Ron. Not his best friend, who fought with Hermione so much Harry was sure they would end up together. Not the Ron who had blushing late night conversations with Harry about kissing girls.

Neville kept talking after a minute. "It's not…it's not a big deal, Harry. Not really."

"Not a big deal?" Harry blinked slowly, his mind a fog. "You're telling me Ron is gay?"

Neville shrugged. "I'm telling you we're boyfriends."

"But…Neville! It's absurd! Ron isn't…you're a boy!"

Neville blinked, his brow furrowing. "Does that matter?"

Harry gaped at him. He clenched his fists around the shirt he held, then remembered it and jerked it on quickly. "Of course it matters! He never said anything about being gay!"

"I don't understand, Harry."

Harry glared at him, out of sorts and upset about it. He knew he had been keeping Ron at a distance lately, but to not know something that important? He didn't believe it. "You're a boy. And Ron's a boy. And you're together. That's what you're telling me."

Neville stared at him, obviously confused. "I don't…does it matter that we're boys?"

"Of course it…" Harry trailed off suddenly as something occurred to him.

The same thought occurred to Neville a moment later, and his eyes widened. "Oh. I guess Muggles think it's bad when two boys love each other."

"Well…" Harry frowned, sitting hesitantly on the bed. "I…you mean wizards don't?"

Neville smiled hesitantly. "Harry. Wizards have married werewolves. Giants have married merpeople. Veelas marry witches. Why should we care if a boy wizard likes another boy wizard?"

Harry sat in silence. God, after six years in the wizarding world he thought he had a handle on the differences between wizards and muggles. He tried to wrap his brain around the idea. "Why didn't you tell anyone, then? About you and Ron?"

Neville shrugged. "As I said, we weren't very sure how we felt until the last couple of weeks. And anyway, we're still pretty young. We were worried Ron's mum would make us stay in separate rooms. And my Gran may not have let Ron sleep over at all." He frowned suddenly. "Though I guess that might have been best."

Ron. And Neville. It still seemed insane to Harry, but he forced himself to relax. It wasn't so unusual, apparently, to wizards.

Neville studied him curiously. "I know you were raised as a Muggle. Are you…is this going to be too strange for you?"

Harry couldn't answer. Was it?

God, the Dursleys had had a thing or two to say about gays before. Vernon especially would go on about disgusting displays and randy behavior and how sick it was. Vernon and Petunia both were of the belief that anything outside of traditional couples was sick. Men with men were sick, and different races together were sick, and if they were too far apart in age they were sick, and…

He blinked suddenly, halting his thoughts.

When, he asked himself in surprise, had he ever let Vernon and Petunia Dursley's opinions about anything affect his own?

Vernon and Petunia thought magic was sick. They thought Harry was sick.

Harry smiled faintly at that. It might take him a bit of time to get used to it, but…

"No," he answered slowly. "Not too strange. Just a bit strange. I imagine I'll get used to the idea."

Neville smiled back hesitantly. "Good."

Harry looked down at his pillow laying there beside Neville's and reached for it to move back to his bed.

Neville's eyes clouded over, and he looked away.

Harry frowned at that and held the pillow. Honestly, he wasn't sure he wanted to sleep alone either. Those nights with Ron had been nice, and not because of any sort of thing Ron did. Just having him there and close, and knowing Ron cared.

It wouldn't feel quite the same with Neville, but it would probably do him some sort of good. And Neville as well. And they were friends, after all, despite everything.

He cleared his throat awkwardly. "We…well. I mean, just because you and Ron are…well. It doesn't mean I can't sleep in the same bed as you, does it? We can still help each other sleep. Just without any sort of snogging or anything."

Neville brightened instantly. "Yeah?"

Harry shrugged. "Can't we?"

"Of course!" Neville laughed shakily. "It isn't as if I want to snog you. Not at all. I mean…not even the slightest bit, you know?"

Harry held up a hand, dropping the pillow. "Okay, you don't have to make a speech on how unappealing I am, Neville."

Neville giggled and moved to one side, giving Harry room to lay down. "You're not unappealing, Harry. You're just not Ron."

The lights went out, Harry found a comfortable position, and everything went quiet.

Well, everything but his thoughts.

He cleared his throat quietly after a few minutes had passed. "Is it…what's it like?"

Neville moved a bit beside him. "What?"

"Uh. You and Ron…you've kissed or something, haven't you?"

A sigh. "Yeah."

Harry's eyebrows flew up. Neville sounded downright dreamy. "Uh. So it was nice, then? Like kissing a girl."

A giggle. "I wouldn't know. I've never kissed a girl."

"Oh." Harry turned on his side. "I have."

"Yeah?" Neville turned as well to face him. "Cho Chang, right?"

"Yeah."

"Well. What was that like?"

Harry made a face but smiled, remembering Ron asking the same thing. "Wet," he answered, same as he had when Ron asked. "And a bit uncomfortable."

"Oh." Neville paused. "Well, in that case, no. It's not like snogging a girl at all. I mean…wet, maybe, a bit. But only when he…um. I mean, when we…"

Harry squinted his eyes, but it was too dark to see Neville. He imagined the boy was probably bright red, though. "Yeah?" he prodded with a grin.

Neville cleared his throat. "Um. It's just that the last time we…there was sort of this part where…oh, God. Um, tongues were involved," he said finally in a rush.

Harry's mouth dropped open. He made a face. "Tongues? Was that disgusting?"

Neville sighed again. "I thought it would be. You know, just thinking about it before. But it really wasn't. At all. It was nice."

"Wow." Harry rolled back on his back. This definitely needed some thinking about.

***

Ron felt the wall at his side, the floor pressing into his back. He felt those damned ropes cutting into him.

He felt every hair on his head, every inch of skin, every vein, every cell, every fingernail. Everything was alive and aware, the memory of feeling it all burned away and then reformed clear in his mind.

Even as Lucius set about to do it all over again.

It wasn't pain – the pain was over, and about to start, but not there at that moment. It was that he had felt pain all over, on every tiny bit of him, and it had left him aware of himself in a way he had never been before.

He never would have thought there were worse things than the Cruciatus. He knew now he was just naïve.

Malfoy was smiling and talking calmly, but his voice had long ceased to be anything but a low murmur, unintelligible to Ron's ears. Behind him, watching eagerly, Bellatrix LeStrange was glowing with happiness. Her eyes were brighter than ever, her grin giddy. If she had her voice she would have been laughing the entire time.

Ron saw movement as Lucius lifted his wand again.

He had stopped thinking coherent thoughts, really. Much of what went through his mind was images. Pictures.

Harry. Neville. His family. Hermione. Draco, for some odd reason. Hogwarts. McGonagall, Dumbledore.

Faces and memories invaded one at a time in a slow parade.

He shut his eyes against the sight of Malfoy's brittle, coldly pleased smile.

He would have given anything to be at home. Now that he knew what real pain was he would suffer it gladly to get him back to caring people.

He shut his mind to the stream of faces he'd been seeing. Instead he focused on that room at Black's house, the one he and Neville stayed in. He imagined every crack and corner, the worn and frayed carpeting, the beds. The little table. It would be dark now, because Malfoy said it was after nightfall. There would be nothing but shadows. In the bed there would be a lump under covers, snoring lightly. Neville would be nothing but a tuft of dark blond hair wrapped snugly up. Maybe shuddering in a nightmare.

The door, the one big window opposite the beds. The chest of drawers and small closet.

He could see every inch of that room. With every singly fiber of his being he wanted to be there. He could see himself there, in his mind's eye. Even with the ropes in place, barefoot and aching and trembling all over, standing there in that room, looking down at the bed.

He wished it, as he heard the drone of Malfoy's voice and felt the horrible anticipation of pain. He wished with everything in him to suddenly be away from there.

And then…

Then he could feel it. He could feel the worn, thin carpet on his back, the cool, fresh air of a room with a door and a window. Malfoy's voice was gone, and light breathing sounded over his head somewhere.

Wondering at his newfound powers of imagination, Ron was reluctant to open his eyes.

But a sniffle and a low murmur sounded in his ear, painfully familiar, and he couldn't help himself.

He blinked up into darkness.

He hadn't been out of the constant light of that strange room for however long he'd been gone. Days or weeks or whatever.

But it was dark, and his eyes couldn't adjust.

He looked around blindly, managing to get himself upright with one painful effort from strained muscles.

Another low murmur turned his head, and his heart leapt and started beating fast enough to scare him.

Neville.

Fearing it was a dream – because what else could it be? – Ron struggled against his bindings and his own weak body to stand up. His arm was still only half tied, and he pushed it out in front of him awkwardly to feel for a bed or a chair or anything.

He hit the table, the small table that had sat between their beds since he got there.

Maybe this was real. But…how?

He reached clumsily for the lamp he knew was there, and turned the knob to put light into the room. His hand was shaking so badly it took him a long minute to get it on.

His eyes fell on an empty bed. Neville's bed. He turned around slowly, tears already in his eyes, and the first thing he saw was blond hair against a white pillow.

Neville he said, though of course no sound came out.

His breath caught in his chest, and he felt a hot tear drop as he reached down.

But.

But his eyes went beyond the blond hair. To the sliver of Neville's profile, to Neville's hand, resting comfortably on the pajama clad chest of a dark-haired boy with a scar on his forehead.

Ron froze, knowing now that this had to be a dream.

Neville and Harry were curled together, sleeping peacefully. Neville's face rested against Harry's chest, and Harry's hand was circled under him and draped around his back.

Harry was smiling in his sleep. Neville's murmurs were low and contented. The way he'd sounded sleeping with Ron.

Ron couldn't breathe. He never had a chance to think about what he was looking at, because at the very sight his mind seemed to shut down.

It was too much. Malfoy and LeStrange, and days and days of…and then appearing, and seeing…

Appearing. Apperating?

Was that what he had done?

He didn't know. All he knew was that he had to get away from them. Away from the two happily sleeping bodies on that bed.

He slammed his eyes shut and bit back a sob and thought hard of the first place that wasn't there – the Burrow.

His room, all gaudy orange, Chudley Cannons everywhere. His room was safe and bright and happy, and he wanted to be there. Saw himself there.

He felt a bit of a rush in his stomach that he hadn't noticed last time, and opened his eyes slowly.

Quidditch players lay sleeping on his walls, drifting on broomsticks in midair in his posters.

Ron stumbled, sobbing now out of sheer relief.

Neville…

He was shaking so hard that the ropes kept tightening and loosening strangely, and his free hand twitched against his leg.

He moved forward, blinded by tears, and hit the door with a thump. He groped clumsily for the handle.

Neville. Harry.

Malfoy. LeStrange.

He couldn't think. Maybe he just didn't want to.

He opened his mouth and strained in a shout of frustration as his hand slipped off the knob again and again. Nothing came from his throat, but he shouted on and on, wetness dripping off his chin and into his mouth and down his nose.

God, couldn't he just get…

There! He managed to turn the knob and the door opened, sending him stumbling out into the hallway.

There was a sudden noise down the narrow hall, and low voices. A creak as a door opened, sending a sliver of light into the hall that got wider. And then from the crack came the tip of a wand, pointing towards him.

He screamed despite himself, and tried to get away so fast that he lost his balance and fell.

"Who's there?" came a voice that was probably familiar.

He couldn't move. His mouth stayed open in another scream, silent and useless, and he shut his eyes and his hand was a fist and he squeezed his eyes shut and wanted everything to go away from him.

Hands touched his back and he jerked away in terror. The hands kept touching, pulling at the black ropes binding him, turning him over onto his back.

"Ron!"

"Oh my God! Fred!"

"Go get someone. Dumbledore. He's with mum, right?"

Two blurry faces looked at him, touched him.

Ron shook under their unrelenting hands, his mouth working uselessly. His vision was clouded, but he could focus enough to recognize the two identical faces in front of him, though they were pinched in a shocked and serious way he hadn't ever seen before.

"George! Go! Get Dumbledore or anybody! Go!"

The twin on his right stood and took off down the hall and pounded down the stairs.

Leaving only two hands on him, two eyes watching.

Ron tried to gasp out Fred's name, but his teeth chattered and his chin shook and he couldn't make a sound.

Fred's eyes roamed all over him in fear before fastening on the rope his hands tugged on. It wouldn't give, of course. "Ron! Bloody hell, what's going on? How did you…are you alright?"

Ron would have been babbling if he'd been audible. As it was his mouth moved without any sort of intelligible response.

Fred reached out and sifted fingers through his hair carefully. "Ron. Calm down. You're home. You're safe. We'll get everyone over here, and we'll find out what's going on. Just tell me you're okay."

Ron shook his head helplessly, moving his lips in words that would never be heard.

Fred seemed to understand that he couldn't talk. He petted Ron's hair awkwardly. "It's okay. It's okay. George!" he shouted over his shoulder. "Hurry up!"

A faint shout answered him from downstairs. "No one's answering the fire! I'm apparating over!"

"Be careful!" Fred turned back to Ron. "Don't worry. Don't worry, Ronnie, I've got you. No one's gonna hurt you now, Ronnie."

Ron nodded jerkily, shuddering.

Fred blinked strangely bright eyes and tugged at the rope again uselessly. "I'll get these off. Just let me…" Then he lifted his wand.

Ron saw the tip of the wand point towards him, and the feeble control he had vanished. He wailed in mute terror and tried to get away from it, scrambling back into the wall and curling there as tightly as he could.

He heard the clatter of a wand hitting the wood floor, and more low, reassuring words from his suddenly frantic brother, but he was too far gone to recognize any of it.

***

Author's Notes:

I hope that was easy enough to understand. Apparation is a hard thing to describe, especially happening to a character who has no idea what's going on.

Oh, and for any of you who think I did a deux ex machina getting him out of there like that, I can only say that the bad times aren't all over. LeStrange is still out there, and Lucius is none to pleased about his prey getting away. There's more to come. Mostly because this story just doesn't seem to want to reach any kind of ending. Go figure. J

Miste – Hey! Sorry to make you wait. I'll try and keep the updates closer together. You liked the picture, huh? Good. I figured Ron had to be an adorable kid. I don't have any plans to kill them off. Not both of them, at least. j/k  But the story is sort of writing itself. I've got no input. And hey, easy on the caffeine there, ya maniac. LOL.

Arynnl – Thanks! Glad you're still reading! You realize that if I give Ron good OWLS, it won't be a surprise to you, since you suggested it. LOL. I'll take it under advisement.

PadawanMage – Still with me, huh? You're the best. Sure, Trelawney would have passed him, but Trelawney's not the one who gave the OWLs, they had those testing people come in. People who really knew what they were doing. Heh. And don't feel too bad for Ron. He did have a loving family and a decent life. His mother's just a wee bit guilty. You know how parents are.

SparkySparkles – Thank you, darling. Unfortunately, as you can see, Dumbledore's plans will have to stay secret. Since they're a bit unnecessary. Fortunately, he'll have a chance to plan again. Evil ain't done yet.

Thanks for still reading, everyone. This thing is turning into an epic. Hope you don't mind. J