DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Author Notes: This story contains both SLASH and blatant drug use. If these themes offend you, please do not read this story!

The characters in this story may seem a little out of character, but give it a chance. Consider this story a "coming of age" tale about the characters developing into adults. I anticipate many flames telling me off for my OOC-ness. So be it.

This story is COMPLETE. There is only one chapter (and an epilogue) remaining after this one.

Chapter Eight: Lost and Wandering

The slate will soon be clean
I'll erase the memories
To start again with somebody new
Was it all wasted
All that love?
I hang my head and I advertise
A soul for sale or rent
I have no heart, I'm cold inside
I have no real intent

Save me, Save me, Save me
I can't face this life alone
Save me Save me
Oh I'm naked and I'm far from home

Save Me by Queen

"I can't do it, Pansy," Neville announced, collapsing onto the couch in the Common Room later that night. He leaned his head against his friend's small shoulder and exhaled sharply. "I made it as far as the door. I cannot go in."

"It's okay, Neville," Pansy assured him with a light pat on the leg. "None of us have been in Draco's room since that night. It is too soon. No one expects you to go back to staying in there."

"So where do I sleep?" Neville questioned warily. "There is no way that I am staying in the dormitories."

"Well, aren't you just the pompous one now?" Pansy trilled in amusement. She shrugged Neville's heavy head off her shoulder and turned to look at his sickly face. "It was not so long ago that you shared a dormitory with the Gryffindors. And now you are too good to sleep with your housemates? Tsk."

Neville poked Pansy in the ribs, making her gasp and giggle simultaneously. Pansy shoved his hands away and gave him a stern look that told him that she expected an answer.

"I'm not too good," Neville sighed. "It's that I am too lonely."

"But you would be with at least five other—"

"You know what I mean, Pansy," he cried, standing up to pace in front of the couch. His haunted eyes raced around the room as if searching. "I slept beside Draco for so long. I do not know how to sleep alone anymore."

"Oh, Neville," the small Slytherin girl leaned her chin in the palm of her hand and watched her friend walk in tight circles. "I'm afraid you will have to learn again. Unless you plan on jumping directly in bed with someone else!"

"No!" Neville stopped pacing, the thought of sleeping with anyone but Draco making him slightly nauseous. "No. How could I, Pansy?"

"Of course you couldn't," she soothed. "But I see no other recourse, do you? You must either sleep alone—either in Draco's room or in the dormitory—or you must find someone new."

Neville did not stop to consider his choices. There was no choice. He did not want any other boy at Hogwarts. He wanted his Dragon. And if he could not have him, he would have no other.

"Think Crabbe and Goyle will move my trunk upstairs?"

"I'll fetch them," Pansy stood, smiling. At the foot of the stairs, she turned around. "You know, Neville, this is how we are going to beat this thing. This grief."

"How's that?"

"Baby steps."

It was noisy in the Slytherin Seventh Year dormitory, Neville soon learned. Crabbe snored, as he had always suspected. Goyle mumbled and cooed, which somewhat surprised him. There was a slight stirring in the armoire that Neville did not care to consider. And there was an odd, distant moaning in the walls, sounding almost as if the castle was crying.

Neville lied there for nearly three hours, listening to the sounds of Slytherin. He was exhausted, but his eyes would not shut. His bed was uncomfortable. His pillow was too fluffed. The blanket itched. His feet were cold. The sheets were wrinkled. Draco was not there.

Giving up on a peaceful slumber, Neville swung his long legs over the side of the bed and stood. He was not sure where he was going, but he knew that he could not stay in that room a moment longer. He moved slowly, his bare feet quietly slapping against the stone floor as he made his way out of the dormitory and down the corridor. He paused, trying to focus his swirling thoughts. Memories flooded over him, mixing with reality. Neville needed to sleep. He needed one night not invaded by guilt and misery.

Deciding in an instant what he needed to do, he walked determinedly towards the Seventh Year Girls Dormitory and opened the door. He had not expected it to be locked; however, he was surprised that it actually opened for him. Was Hogwarts not concerned for its young women? Sheesh.

Neville's indignation slid away as he approached Pansy's bed. He was glad the door had not been locked. He would have had to wake the entire room, which he was certain would not have been a pretty scene. The Slytherin girls were a force to be reckoned with during normal operating hours. He could not imagine encountering the lot of them after waking them abruptly in the dead of the night.

His trembling hands parted the drapes and looked down at Pansy. She was on her side, her knees drawn up to her chest. Her brow was furrowed as if in concentration. Neville smiled, marveling at the fact that she slept with the same ferocity with which she did everything else in her life.

"Pansy," Neville whispered. Pansy's eyes flew open in sheer terror. Neville touched her shoulder, whispering his identity.

"What's wrong?" Pansy sat up abruptly, her eyes scanning her surroundings for imminent danger.

"Nothing's wrong," Neville suddenly felt foolish, standing there in pajama bottoms and not much else. He should have grabbed his robe. "I couldn't sleep."

"Oh, Nev," Pansy tilted her head, causing her blonde hair to slide off her shoulder. She scooted her body to the far side of the bed and patted the mattress. "Why don't you sleep here tonight?"

Neville smiled shyly and nodded. He wanted to sleep with her. He wanted to take comfort from her. She was Draco's best friend. She was his friend. She could make it all go away. She had to.

He slid between the sheets and rested his head on Pansy's warm pillow, watching her fasten her drapes closed and tuck the duvet around their bodies.

She lay down on the pillow and faced Neville, a reassuring smile on her face. "Is this okay?"

"Yes," Neville said. He reached out and put his arm around his friend, drawing her close. "This is perfect."

Pansy snuggled against Neville's chest, sighing into his warmth. She was desperate for comfort. He was Draco's lover. He was her friend. He could make it all go away. He had to.

Ginny Weasley stood at the entrance to the Slytherin Common Room, pounding on the stone door. It was early, she knew, but she could not wait. She had come to a decision, and as a Weasley and a Gryffindor, it was in her nature to barrel headlong into it, regardless of the time.

It had been too long, she had concluded not more than thirty minutes prior, since she had lived her life as she truly wished. For years, she had been guided (controlled, more like) by first her family, then Tom Riddle, then Harry Potter and finally her own confusion. Ginny Weasley was reclaiming her life.

Ginny knew that she loved Pansy Parkinson. But the love that she felt was born of friendship and grief. The love she felt for Pansy was not a romantic love that burned brightly in her heart... it was not the love she had felt for Harry.

Ginny's heart twinged and her eyes stung at the thought of her former boyfriend. How many years had she pined for him? No one truly thought that she would succeed in her quest to win Harry's heart, but inevitably, she had. Once they were together, everyone professed that the couple's love was pure and invincible. And yet, they were utterly fallible. It had ended. In a way that left Ginny's mouth sour.

Ginny jumped as the door was pulled open to reveal Millicent Bulstrode looking at her in a Most Unpleasant Manner.

"It is early, Weasley," Millicent pointed out in her characteristic monotone. "Neville is still abed."

"No, no," Ginny shook her head quickly, a small placating smile on her thin lips. "I am here to see Pansy."

Millicent's dark eyes narrowed. She, of course, had seen the display at the Quidditch Cup celebration. She did not approve. There was already too much Slytherin Goodwill being extended to too many Gryffindors as of late.

"Pansy is still sleeping," Millicent finally said. "Why don't you come back after lunch?"

"It's quite urgent, Millicent," Ginny persisted, slipping past the bulky Slytherin. "I know my way to the dormitory. I won't be long."

Millicent sighed and closed the door. If the girl Weasley was not the personal favorite of Neville, she would not have hesitated to toss the wench bodily from the House. As it was, Ginny was immune to any Slytherin backlash.

Ginny walked swiftly down the corridor until she came to the Seventh Year Girls' Dormitory. She paused with her hand gripping the door knob, inhaling deeply, willing herself forward. She pushed the door open and stepped tentatively inside. There were five beds fanning out from the center of the room, just like the Gryffindor dormitory. Three of the beds were still covered with curtains, indicating that they were still occupied.

Ginny approached the bed closest to the fireplace and parted the curtains, intending to crawl onto the mattress in order to talk to Pansy. She stared into the semi-darkness, confused at first by what she saw. Pansy was there, of course, but she was not alone. The duvet was crumpled at the foot of the bed, giving Ginny an unfettered view of the pair entangled with each other. It was Neville. Neville with his arm locked around Pansy's slender back, pressing her against his bare chest. It was Neville. Neville with one knee pushed between Pansy's thighs. It was Neville. Neville with his cheek pressed to the top of Pansy's head.

Ginny stumbled backward, gasping loudly.

Neville's eyes opened in an instant, catching a fleeting glance of Ginny as she let go of the green velvet curtains. Thinking he was dreaming, he let his eyes slide shut again. It was only when he tried to stretch out his body that he realized that there was someone in his arms. Once again, his eyes opened and he drew back to take in the warm form next to him.

"Pansy?" Neville whispered in awe. Pansy's eyes fluttered open, a moment of confusion playing in the blue depths. She smiled, realizing it was Neville who held her so close.

"Oh, no," Neville pushed Pansy away in horror, sitting up quickly. "Ginny!"

"Ginny?" Pansy sat up and looked at Neville quizzically. "What are you talking about?"

"Ginny, wait!" Neville clambered through the curtains and awkwardly gained his feet. "Ginny!"

Ginny stood stock-still, staring at Neville as he hurried toward her. Her head tilted on its own volition, curiosity overtaking her shock.

"It's not what it looks like," Neville began, his voice gritty from sleep. "I couldn't sleep and—"

"Stop, Neville," Ginny held out her hand to prevent Neville from approaching her. "I don't care what you are doing here. I don't think I want to know anyway."

Pansy slid from the bed, casting a glare at Daphne Greengrass, who had opened her curtains at the sound of Neville's voice. Daphne quickly jumped from bed and scurried from the room, clad in only her nightdress.

"I'm glad that you are both here, actually," Ginny continued quietly. She sat on the bed Daphne had just vacated. "I need to talk to you."

Pansy remained silent, keeping her guilt and worries at bay the best she could. Neville and she had only been sleeping. Two friends who needed one another. Nothing more.

"I realize that this past year has been one emotional snag after another," Ginny twisted the ends of her long hair between her fingers. "What with the House Break and the party and Harry and— and Draco. I've hardly known which way to turn, let alone think."

"What are you saying, Gin?" Neville asked.

"I'm saying that it is time for me to start thinking for myself, Neville."

"I've never tried to tell you what to think."

"Maybe not directly," Ginny smiled ruefully at her old friend. "But you were definitely a major influence on my decisions. But I'm ready to strike out on my own now."

Neville and Pansy exchanged curious glances.

"That means," Ginny inhaled deeply before continuing. "Pansy, I cannot keep on the way we were. I know that I love you, but not in the way that I was leading you to believe. I know that now. I'm sorry."

"It's fine, Ginny. We were thrown together under less than ideal circumstances," Pansy's small mouth quirked into a smile. "But we are still friends, right?"

"Yes, definitely," Ginny smiled, looking relieved. "We are still friends. Nothing has changed there."

"Is there more?" Neville wondered aloud. "I mean, you said you needed to talk with us both."

"Well," Ginny rose and approached Neville. "It is just that I am very concerned for you, Nev. You aren't sleeping, you aren't eating. It is time to let Draco go."

Neville flinched as if the red head had slapped him. It was easy for everyone to tell him to move on. But for Neville, Draco represented his first love, the person who loved him in return. How could he go back to a life without love?

"I can't, Gin," Neville said defensively, dropping back down onto Pansy's bed. "Not yet. I know you don't understand, but you have to let me be."

"Neville," Pansy placed her small hand on his bare shoulder tentatively. "I do understand. Draco was my best friend. I have loved him since before I can remember. We can help each other let him go. It is for the best."

"He would not want us to let him go," Neville muttered, petulantly.

"That is true," Pansy laughed. "That old prat would have us throw ourselves on his very grave and drown ourselves in our own tears."

Neville chuckled, remembering the outrageous conceit that was Draco.

"Well," Ginny smiled broadly. "When have we ever given in to what Draco wants?"

Neville and Pansy gaped at Ginny in wonder.

"Are you serious?" Pansy asked, blinking rapidly.

"When did we not give in to Draco?" Neville asked, amazed.

"Oh, for pity's sake," Ginny threw up her hands in disgust. "Am I the only one who could resist that boy?"

"Yes," Pansy and Neville chorused with absolute conviction.

"Gah," Ginny sat next to Neville and buried her face in her hands. "You two are impossible."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Pansy declared triumphantly.

"I think Draco would be pleased to hear it!" Neville chimed in cheerily.

"Gah," said Ginny.

"Everyone thinks you and I are together now," Pansy told Neville one day over dinner. "Did you know that?"

"Yeah," Neville shrugged his shoulders in an off-handed fashion. "I heard some Gryffindors whispering behind their hands in Potions today."

"You did?" Pansy's brow furrowed. "But we were sitting together. I didn't hear them."

"That's because you were actually working," her friend teased with a smile.

"Well, one of us needs to be concerned about our marks," Pansy pouted prettily. "I can't believe you didn't at least tell me about it after class!"

"Does it matter?" the Gryffindor turned Slytherin asked, his face suddenly serious. "I mean, does it bother you that people associate you with me?"

Pansy's heart lurched at the apprehension and self-doubt in Neville's amber eyes.

"No, darling," Pansy soothed, her hand automatically reaching out to caress his cheek. "I was only worried for your reputation."

"Ah, well," he beamed at her, his confidence returning. "I'm sure that my reputation has been in tatters for ages now. No worries."

Hours later, the duo was curled together in Pansy's small bed, as was their custom of late. None of the other Seventh Year Slytherin girls dared to speak out against the arrangement. Neville was a Malfoy now. He was not only a Slytherin, he was the Slytherin. If the girls felt uncomfortable having their leader sleeping amongst them, they wisely kept their thoughts to themselves.

"Do you think they mind me here?" Neville asked in a low voice, nodding his head toward the muffled voices of the Slytherin girls.

"Who cares?" Pansy shrugged and rolled her eyes. "If anything, they wish you were in their beds."

"Oh, give over," Neville laughed at the insinuation that he anyone would want him. "I'm just the geeky ex-Gryffindor who is too much of a pussy to sleep with the boys."

"Have you thought about trying your own room?" Pansy asked cautiously, her head turning to watch her friend's reaction.

"You tired of me hogging the blankets?" he asked flippantly. He did not want to sleep alone. Particularly not in a room where Draco's ghost loomed. "I can go back to the boy's dorm."

"No," Pansy responded immediately. "And I meant that you and I both could stay in that room. I mean, for a while. Until you got settled."

A small smile spread over Neville's face. She had guessed his worry. Of course she had. She knew him better than anyone. He leaned down and kissed her cheek.

"You kissed me," Pansy said needlessly, her hand touching her cheek in shock.

"As astute as always, Parkinson."

"I always assumed," Pansy whispered. "That if you ever got around to kissing me, it would be a bit more—fantastic."

Neville's breath caught in his chest. Pansy was looking at him with absolute conviction in her pale eyes. This was the moment that he feared. He knew that the closeness they shared could only lead to one thing.

"Pans," he cleared his throat and shifted himself away from her silk-clad body. "I—"

"Don't," the embarrassed girl ducked her head under Neville's chin, silently cursing herself for her bold stupidity. "I mean, it's okay. I was just teasing."

Neville clamped his mouth shut, partially relieved to be granted this temporary stay. He knew they had to talk. He knew that she was not teasing. He knew everything, but was too frightened to speak. He wanted Draco and only Draco. But Draco was gone. And Pansy was the closet thing to Draco. She could heal him.

Pansy fought to steady her heartbeat and even out her breathing. She knew it had been a mistake. Of course Neville had no interest in her. Neville loved Draco. And she was no Draco. She did not want him, as a matter of course. But there was something comforting about being encircled in his arms, the same arms that once held her best friend. She figured it was the shared memory of Draco that caused her attraction. Neville was the closest thing to Draco that she would ever get. He could save her.

"You're shivering," Neville pointed out, tugging the duvet higher around her bare shoulders. "Are you cold?"

"Not really," Pansy said, her voice tinny and child-like. "Just mortified."

"Don't be," Neville whispered, his hand drifting to the cheek he kissed just moments before. "It's me. I'm scared."

Pansy lifted her head to look into Neville's eyes. "Scared? Of what?"

"Of feeling again," he confessed on a sigh.

Pansy nodded. It all came back to Draco. "I understand."

Neville groaned and rolled so that Pansy was trapped beneath his bare chest. She gasped at the weight, but made no move to escape.

"You don't understand," he rasped before pressing his mouth to hers in a desperate kiss. Recovering from her shock quickly, Pansy wrapped her arms around Neville's shoulders and pulled him more firmly against her. She tilted her head and nudged Neville gently, encouraging him to continue.

Neville's heart was racing. Was he betraying the memory of Draco? What would Draco think? When Pansy opened her lips against his, he pushed all thoughts of Draco aside and lost himself in her mouth.

A keening cry echoed throughout the Slytherin Dungeon.

Lucius Malfoy sat in his office, reviewing his accounts. Ever since Draco's death, he had stopped selling Ecstasy at Hogwarts. As a result, his business was suffering slightly. He was, quite frankly, amazed at how much revenue Draco and Neville had brought in. But he could not, in good faith, ignore the fact that his drugs had been the reason for his son's death. And, of course, Harry Potter. That meddlesome boy had killed his son. And in effect, part of his business.

He looked forward to the day that Potter was no longer under the watchful eye of Albus Dumbledore. Lucius was bent on revenge. He had distanced himself from Dark Magic after the fall of Lord Voldemort, but he remembered. He remembered how easy it was to kill. And more importantly, he remembered his hatred for Harry Potter. Oh, how lovely it would be to see that boy's blood run dry. Oh, yes.

Lucius closed his account book. He would avenge his son's murder. Soon.