13- Harry POV
Neville found me.
His lips tightened into a thin line. I could see again, and the room was red like it was supposed to be. It was probably a mess too, but I couldn't see that much from where I was on the floor. He flicked his wrist, not even using a wand, and things were flying back into their places.
"Harry, what happened?"
He knew I wouldn't answer. Even if I wanted to, I couldn't with the way I was breathing, gasping. There were too many breaths in before a breath out. All uneven.
Neville had turned into such a powerful wizard. I wanted to tell him. I tried to tell him I was proud of him but the only word I could get out was 'proud' - and barely even that. I said it over and over, dozens of times as he scooped me up in his arms. It didn't seem to matter where in my uneven breathing cycle the word wanted to come out. Most of the time it sounded strangled; it was almost never the whole word, but he answered me anyway.
"Thanks, Harry. I like to think my parents are proud of me too."
He carried me to his bed and lay me down, lifting my stiff arms to look at the bloody mess there.
"I'm not the best at healing, Harry. I should get Hermione," he told me.
My breaths got quicker, exhales turning to small screams. I grabbed onto him.
"No, no, I won't leave. Shhh."
I couldn't unclench my hand, but he didn't seem to mind, focusing on my arms. I couldn't feel them anymore, but I wasn't worried. I kept my nails short for this exact reason. They would only be shallow cuts.
My vision was going fuzzy around the edges again as Neville lay my arms back down. "Just a second. I won't leave."
He stepped back to his wardrobe, changing quickly into his pajamas. Then he looked to me. I nodded, uncontrolled. He methodically stripped me down to my pants and pulled my own pajamas out to redress me. He pulled the blankets from my bed so he wouldn't have to move me under his and lay down next to me.
I curled up next to him as he wrapped an arm around me, my body moving without me thinking about it. I put my head on his chest as he started rubbing small, soothing circles into my back. He murmured directions to me as we lay there, and I tried to follow them, listening to his heartbeat and trying to match my breathing to the steady rise and fall of his chest. My eyes were starting to feel gritty, and my arms had started to burn. I was trying to listen; I was. It was just so hard.
I closed my eyes as pathetic tears started to seep into Neville's shirt. I don't think I got my breathing quite right before I fell asleep. My toes tingled as I drifted off.