Chapter 2: Neville's Not So Secret, Secret

It was Neville. He was sitting silently in an armchair positioned right in front of the cackling fire.

He had his head down and he was holding a knife, a bloody knife.

Hermione watched in dismay as he made three perfectly aligned cuts on his left arm. One cut after the other, with evenly measured strokes.

"Neville!"

Hermione watched as he jumped in alarm. He quickly jerked his head around to face Hermione, who was standing behind the armchair staring down at him open-mouthed.

Without a sound she continued to gaze in horror at the sight displayed in front of her.

Hermione's eyes slowly traveled from Neville's shocked, pale face to his arms, which were covered with more viciously bleeding cuts. Then her eyes moved to the knife he was holding in his right hand and finally back up to his face again, which looked as if all the blood had drained from it.

Neville quickly shoved the knife out of Hermione's sight and pushed down his robe sleeves, flinching noticeably as the fabric caught on his cuts but it was already too late, Hermione had seen everything.

"H-H-Hermione…w-what are you doing back so s-soon? I t-thought you were at Hogsmeade with everyone else?" Neville whispered, his voice shaking.

"I wasn't feeling well so I decided to come back…" replied Hermione still staring down at Neville in shock.

Aside from the soft, cackling of the fire, the room suddenly filled with an uneasy silence.

"Neville…" started Hermione warily. She was beginning to feel lightheaded from what she had just witnessed. Also, the fact that she had never been a big fan of blood didn't help matters any.

"Hermione, look…I-I know w-what you must be t-thinking but it isn't what it looks like…honest…"

"Well, then what is it? Please explain this to me," Hermione replied with utter confusion.

"Look, can we just forget this ever happened and just continue on about things like we normally would?" Neville pleaded softly, staring down at his hands.

"Neville! How am I supposed to just forget this ever happened? I just walked in on you slicing yourself with an enormous dagger! Kind of a hard image to erase, let alone the type of event you can just forget about…"

Hermione walked around and sat herself down in the armchair next to Neville's. Further silence washed over the Gryffindor common room and it was even more agonizing than the silence before.

Hermione didn't know what to say. She was too shaken up, so she opted instead to just observe Neville closely.

Neville saw her watching him out of the corner of his eye and he began to writhe in his chair.

"Why?" Hermione asked simply. "Why would you do something like this to yourself?"

"I don't know…" answered Neville softly, feeling an instant chill run down his spine followed by a wave of nausea creeping up on him.

"You don't know? Well then how long? How long has this been going on?"

Once again Neville began shifting unnervingly in his seat. He turned his head away from Hermione to glance at the grandfather clock standing behind them.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick.

"Neville?" Hermione replied firmly. "Answer my question."

"Oh, I don't know Hermione, why does it even matter?"

"It does matter. So tell me."

"I don't know…for awhile now…"

"How long is awhile?" Hermione prompted.

Neville shot Hermione a desolate glare and folded his arms across his chest.

It was quite clear that he didn't want to talk.

Hermione sighed and let her eyes wander to his arms, which he had already covered up, but she began to wonder what else, if anything, Neville Longbottom hid underneath of his robes.

"Neville, I- well, have you ever talked to somebody about this? Because if you haven't then I think you should really consider it…"

"No! No- I mean…I-I don't want anyone to know about this. Hermione…you can't tell anyone about this. Please, just promise me you'll try to forget everything and we can both get on with our lives…"

Hermione opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out. She stared deep into Neville's troubled brown eyes. His eyes, she noted, were possibly at the moment, the saddest pair of eyes she had ever looked into. His eyes were dark, blood-shot, and pleading desperately with her to keep his devastating secret.

She hadn't taken into account until just now how rapidly Neville's appearance had deteriorated over more recent months. He had purple shadows shaped like crescent moons forming underneath of his eyes.

His hair was long and unkempt and hung limply in his face. Also, he no longer held the shape of a stout and pudgy boy; instead the boy in front of Hermione now was frail, gaunt and clearly haunted. He looked as if one strong gust of wind would blow him away. As if one more personal tragedy would break him into millions of tiny little pieces.

Hermione continued to stare hard at Neville, unblinkingly. Suddenly she was hit with an overwhelming feeling of guilt. Out of all six years she had known Neville, she realized she never really made much of an effort to get to know him like she did with some of the others.

Sure she knew the basics, like his name, birthday, and his favorite food but she didn't really know him. Seeing the pain in Neville's eyes made Hermione come to the realization that Neville was more than just a geeky, push-over who everyone seemed to bully around and underestimate. He was more than just the round-faced, shy, quiet, clumsy and forgetful scared little boy who always seemed to be screwing up.

Everyone was always so busy and caught up in their own lives that no one ever really took much notice of Neville, ever. Sure his housemates would exchange a friendly hello here and a couple of sentences there or even the occasional game of exploding snap.

Sometimes they would include him in conversations about quidditch and let him tag along on a trip to Hogsmeade, making him feel like he was part of the group, but still, no one ever really noticed him. He always sort of faded into the background, always keeping to himself. Hermione silently scolded herself for not paying more attention to Neville over these past six years.

"Hermione?" Neville whispered, bringing Hermione back to reality.

"So then, can we just keep this between us? Please?"

"Neville…you really should talk to someone about this. It isn't healthy…"

"Hermione it's no big deal. I've got it under control."

"Neville, there are so many things that could happen…you could-" Hermione stopped herself and took a deep breath, "you could…do serious harm to your body, even more serious than the harm that you have already caused."

"I'm always careful."

"But you could-" Hermione stopped herself again, "you could cut yourself too deeply or you could hit a vein…" Hermione for some reason had a hard time saying the word cut in this context and apparently Neville felt the same way seeing as how he winced when she said it.

"Well, I don't do this very often…so it's alright."

"How often do you?"

"Why?"

Hermione sighed.

"I'm just curious…"

Neville looked at her and opened his mouth to answer but said nothing.

"I mean, is this like an everyday thing?" Hermione asked him.

"No…"

"How have you managed to hide something like this for so long…?" began Hermione, more to herself than to Neville. "I just don't understand…"

Hermione truly didn't understand. She had always thought that she was good at reading people and noticing things that everyone else overlooked which is what made her wonder how she could have missed this. How could she have not seen the signs?

She felt as if she had failed as a friend. She had always somewhat kept an eye out for Neville, beginning back in their first year, since no one else seemed to. And she was always encouraging him and helping him out of sticky situations but apparently none of that was enough. It pained her to see how badly he was hurting right now.

With her, she always had Harry and Ron who picked up instantly when something was bothering her. She always had them to confide in. They were always there to comfort and protect her. Lavender had Parvati, Dean had Seamus and who did Neville have? No one; he had no one. Hermione suddenly began to feel sick to her stomach.

Suddenly her mind flashed back to their first year when Neville attempted to stand up to her, Harry and Ron when they went on their quest for the Sorcerer's stone and she had stunned him. She knew that that was what she had to do at the time but suddenly she began to wonder how long he had to lay there before anyone even discovered him.

Then her mind flashed forward three years later when Neville had asked her to the Yule ball. She knew it must have taken him weeks or even months to muster up enough courage to ask her but she had already been asked by Viktor Krum. The look on Neville's face after she politely declined his invitation had been similar to that of Buckbeak after he learned he was to be executed in their third year.

Hermione hated to admit it, but for the longest time she had seen Neville as, well, there was no better way to put it, but she had always seen him as a nuisance. Sort of like a piece of lint stuck to your robes that you kept brushing off but it simply wouldn't budge.

Neville always followed them around, trying to see what they were doing and listen to what they were saying and she began to find him rather irritating. She felt as if he was always getting in the way of what her, Harry and Ron needed to do.

Hermione hated herself for even thinking such things about Neville, even if this had been when she was younger. Especially since she had been just like Neville at one time, before Harry and Ron saved her from the troll in their first year and took her in.

She was always trailing behind them like a shadow, trying so hard to get in on what they had. They saw her as this bossy, know-it-all brat when in reality, all she had wanted was a friend…and she got two. Whereas Neville…he just got pushed aside.

Neville had always been such a good friend to everyone; he was honest, kind and loyal. He never caused any trouble (deliberately at least), he never shot down anyone's opinions; he gave everyone a fair chance and treated everyone with the utmost respect. He never held grudges or raised his voice to anyone.

She thought back to their fourth year when Harry's name had been pulled out of the Goblet of Fire, Neville had been one of the only people who believed that he didn't put his own name in.

Then in their fifth year when everyone shunned Harry and accused him of lying about Lord Voldemort's return, Neville had stuck by him. And later that same year Neville, along with Luna and Ginny had accompanied her, Harry and Ron to battle Death Eaters head on, knowing that that might be the last thing they ever do. Neville would have never done such a thing the year before.

Neville had changed so much and grown more confident in his magic when the D.A. formed, yet no one really noticed; that is until he risked getting himself killed and ended up being tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange. It took for that to happen for anyone to acknowledge that he would have willingly sacrificed his own life that night to protect his friends.

Neville had been the only one left standing beside Harry that night and yet afterwards, it was Harry who got all of the credit. It was Harry who got all of the attention; he was the Boy Who Lived, the object of everyone's affection.

Neville always tried so hard and put his whole heart into helping others. Now, Hermione felt that it was her turn to help him.

She snapped out of her thoughts and turned to him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Look, Hermione this isn't something I'm proud of…I'm sorry you had to see…"

"I just want to understand, Neville…why you are doing this?"

"It's complicated and you wouldn't get it."

"I'm not a mind reader Neville. I can't even begin to understand if you won't tell me…"

When Neville didn't reply, Hermione continued.

"Neville, I honestly think you should go talk to Dumbledore…" she paused, "he could help you. You should also go have Madame Pomfrey take a look at those…well, your hem, arms…" she finished awkwardly.

"No. Really Hermione, just promise me you won't tell anyone!"

"I can't do that Neville and if you don't talk to Dumbledore or someone about this…then I will."

"Hermione, please! Please, just- if Dumbledore finds out about this…he'll tell my Gran and this would just kill her! She already has enough going on in her life! She doesn't need me adding on to it. Please, Hermione I'm begging you…"

Hermione saw that Neville was on the verge of tears. He bit his lip and quickly looked down at the floor. He swiftly brought his hands up to his head and began rocking himself back and forth, like a small, frightened child.

"Neville?" called Hermione softly. "It's okay…I won't tell anyone…"

At this Neville slowly lifted his head up, looking relieved. He began running his hands through his long, messy, brown hair.

"So I have your word?" he questioned.

"Yes…but only on two conditions. You have to promise me that you won't ever do this again, because if I ever find out that you did…I will tell Dumbledore."

"Alright and the second thing?" asked Neville.

"Well, since you won't go to Madame Pomfrey then I want you to let me see. I don't want you to get an infection or anything. I can try to heal your arms and maybe even reduce the scarring a bit."

Neville seemed hesitant and tense at this suggestion.

"I don't know Hermione…" he began, holding his arms protectively to his chest.

"Neville," coaxed Hermione sternly, "this is the only way I'll agree to keep this between us. You have to promise me that you'll never hurt yourself again and then I'll promise not to tell. You keep your deal and I'll keep mine…so are we set?"

Neville nodded.

"Alright now, let me have a look…" Hermione said as she lightly tugged on the sleeves of his robes.

Neville slowly pushed his sleeves up and Hermione lightly grabbed an arm and began healing his wounds. Though little did Hermione know that Neville had the fingers on his other hand crossed the entire time.

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Author's Note: Okay so there's Chapter 2, read & review please! Reviews make me happy :)