A/N: The long awaited second chapter! Actually, it's only been like four days, but whatever. Lolz :P I can't help it, all the alerts/favorites/review made me excited!

TO EVERYONE WHO ALERTED/FAVORITED: Hey, all! I thank you very much for favoriting/alerting my story :) But can you please review, too? I know reviews are hard to give, but I'm not asking for anything elaborate. Just a simple "Good job" would work! Please?

Thanks to those who reviewed the last chapter! :]

Rating: T (PG-13) for self-mutilation.

Italics – thoughts

Disclaimer: I do not, nor do I claim to, own Harry Potter. I make no profit whatsoever from writing this story.

Never before had such an array of emotions played through his body. Sympathy dashed into his heart, taking hold at the core as if to make sure it never left. Sadness danced across his veins painfully. Anger laced itself through his uncomprehending brain. The most prominent emotion, however, was confusion.

Confusion flowed in his very blood, taking control and commanding the other emotions to back off so that it could be the main show. It proudly pounded throughout his shaking body.

It was morning now. The sun was slowly stretching it's arms out, getting a feel for this new land before showing itself fully. It's gentle rays splaying upwards, turning the sky a delicate pink and mellow orange.

Seamus barely noticed, though. His eyes were still trained on the prone figure in the next bed. His retina's begged for a rest, but he wouldn't allow it. Who knew would could happen if he dared to close his eyes for more than a second?

Because a second was all it took. An instant passes and then everything you believed crashes harshly to the ground. A moment where you decided to get up to see what the screaming was, already figuring it was somebody having a nightmare. And even though you were right, you were so wrong.

That was another emotion that spread inside of him. The overwhelming wrongness of it all.

Of course, he knew about suicide and self-harm. He didn't remember the conversation, or who gave it to him as a matter of fact, all he could recall was being told it was wrong. It was a bad thing to do and he should never do either.

He wondered if someone had told Harry that. Maybe if someone had pulled him aside to quickly explain the wrongness of it all, then perhaps his skin would still be unmarked by those hideous eight words.

Anger had dragged out it's knife and began cutting his heart-strings. Seamus didn't know when exactly it had joined sympathy in his chest, but it was there now. Not anger for the ebony-haired boy – anger at himself.

He had been such a prat to Harry last year! He didn't know who Sirius was (because it couldn't be Sirius Black) or why his name along with Quirrell's would be there with the others. He just knew one thing. It was his fault.

If he hadn't been so jealous, if he hadn't turned his back on Harry (not once, but twice), if he had just noticed something was wrong in the first place! He could have prevented all this. Why didn't he?

Which brought up another question (there are so many questions). What were they to do?

Seamus jumped a foot into the air, as did the other three. He hadn't realized he'd voiced his thought until a strained croak escaped his lips.

The others stared at him, not having properly heard the question. He licked his lips and swallowed, trying to get enough silva down his burning throat. He wiped his cheeks quickly, removing the dry tears that lingered on his smooth cheeks.

Clearing his throat one more time, he asked. "What do we do now? I mean, we're aren't just going to let it go, right?"

Before he even finished speaking, the others were shaking their heads frantically. Seamus saw that they, too, had puffy eyes and sore throats as they repeated his same process.

"'Course we're not going to let it go. We just-" Ron looked pained for having to say this. "-We just have to confront him about it. Nicely, though."

Neville finally uncurled his legs, wincing slightly. "When? How?"

They pondered this. How were you supposed to confront your best mate with something like this?

"Oh, hey Harry! We just wanted to let you know that we saw your chest. Yeah, you moved around a lot during a nightmare and your shirt rode up... Anyway, would you tell us why you made those scars?"

Seamus snorted as the scene played out in his head. That would surely go over well.

Really, though, he had no clue. He was the jokester of the five. He flirted with people shamelessly. He'd gotten drunk more than once. Overall, he was a fun guy. He didn't know how to deal with something this... this horrible.

"We should do it after dinner," Dean spoke, eyes darting around. "It's too early to speak to him now, and we have classes today."

They nodded and agreed. All there was to do now was to get through the day.

This is slightly shorter than the last chapter and I like the first chapter more, but oh well.

I promise in the next chapter (yes, there'll be a next chapter) we'll get to confronting Harry! So, stay tuned :P

ANSWER THESE: Were any of you disappointed that this was done in Seamus' POV (sort of)? Whose POV do you want the big confrontation to be in? Neville, Dean, Seamus, Ron, Harry? Please let me know!