Neville awoke to the sound of a massive clank. Leaning against the wall, he scanned the room, and paid for it in spades as his head pounded a steady, violent beat. Hangover. Wonderful.

He was alone. So why did he feel like someone had just been there? His clothes still held a lingering heat, as if he'd been in close proximity with someone for a long period of time. Then he noticed the empty bottle of Romanian vodka, and everything fell back into place.

"Shit!" he whispered, the pitch of his word piercing his eardrums like an ice pick. He bolted upright, rather surprised to find his stomach not attempting to murder him for this maneuver. "Ron?" he asked, voice still low… No answer.

Ron had left him there. Neville cursed himself for his actions. Why can't I just control myself? Sure, he knew part of what happened could be blamed on the alcohol, but he wasn't one to make excuses for himself, no matter how valid they may actually be. I can't believe this. I just scared away one of the few people that talk to me.

He decided to try to catch up to Ron; to talk to him about what had happened, and to apologize for taking advantage of him. He stood quickly, weaving through the piles of antiquities, ignoring the blaring pain in his skull, and yanked open the huge, mahogany door. But upon entering the hallway just outside, he stopped his rush, as the pain in his head was now too great to overlook. He slid back against the door, coming to rest on the great, cold, stone floor.

"Bloody, bloody, bloody hell!" This wasn't working. He needed to get to the hospital wing for a migraine potion. Otherwise, he felt that his lucky lack of nausea would be very short-lived.

Neville got to his feet once more, this time being very careful not to do anything too suddenly, and headed off in the direction of the hospital wing. He supposed he should probably consider himself fortunate that the day was currently in the midst of sunset, or the excess light would likely have been enough to push him over the edge.

By the time he reached Madam Pomfrey though, that edge had well been reached. The students roaming the corridors seemed to be creating an unstoppable din meant specifically to put Neville through as much hell as humanly possible.

"Oh, Neville, what's the matter, dear?" asked the kind, portly woman in a soft voice. She could see that Neville was squinting, sweating, and almost panting in pain. Immediately, she took out her wand, and waved the curtains on all of the windows in the room shut. Then she helped Neville to find a seat on the end of one of the many beds. "Oh, let me guess: migraine?"

Neville simply attempted a smile, a wince of pain slipping in with it. Nodding, or making any kind of noise would certainly prove excruciating. I'll never drink again, he thought. Then he winced again. Even thinking hurt.

Madam Pomfrey walked off for a moment, returning with a vial of eccentrically hot-pink liquid. Neville briefly thought it ironic that headache medicine should be such a headache-inducing color.

"Drink this," she said sweetly.

Neville gulped down the potion, ignoring the taste (an ability he had acquired from quite frequent visits to the infirmary). Slowly, but surely, he could feel the knots in his brain loosening, and after about a minute, he was entirely relieved of his condition. He gave a deep sigh of gratitude.

"Now, you mind telling me what happened to give you a headache like that in the first place?" That was Madam Pomfrey; always concerned, and viciously so.

But that reminded Neville of his original goal, which was now most definitely a moot point. Ron would have reached Griffindor Tower long ago. There was likely no talking to him now.

"Oh... I just didn't sleep well last night," he lied. It nearly killed him to do so, as he had never lied to the woman before, but he couldn't bear to tell her that he had been drinking, and somewhat heavily at that. On top of that, there was still some truth to it, as he indeed hadn't slept last night, and that may have been part of the reason his hangover had been so painful.

Madam Pomfrey was about to press the issue, but before she could, someone came through the door.

"Madam Pomfrey, I'm sorry to ask again, but has… Neville! There you are! Where've you been?" It was Hermione. She rushed over to Neville, looking rather more frazzled than usual.

"Oh, I was just… studying. Why?"

"Studying where? We've been worried about you!" The fluffy haired girl didn't give him time to answer, instead throttling him with a great hug. She then turned to Madam Pomfrey. "Is he okay to leave?"

The woman gave Neville a very… knowing look. His 'I was studying' bit seemed to have fooled Hermione, but Pomfrey wasn't falling for it. Still, she gave Hermione the go-ahead, and stepped away to attend to a quidditch-wounded Ravenclaw that had been there before Neville arrived. Neville guessed that Madam Pomfrey knew the girl's worrying would be far worse than any stern talking she could give.

The two left Madam Pomfrey's ward, and began down the corridor toward Griffindor Tower. Strangely, Hermione said nothing during their entire trip. Neville was finding it quite uncomfortable. He was already on edge about Ron, and now with Hermione behaving very unlike herself, he hadn't a clue what to do.

He'd been just about ready to break away and make a run for it when they reached the portrait of the fat lady, and Hermione stopped him. Rather than utter the password, she pulled Neville off to the side, and gave him her best 'you're in trouble' face. "Now, tell me what really happened. I know you lied back there. Your mouth twitches when you lie."

Did it? Neville had never noticed, but he guessed it was probably true. Hermione was far more astute than he ever hoped to be. He just wanted to get through a day without forgetting something as simple as tying his shoe, or missing a button on his shirt. He decided it would be pointless to try to keep the truth from her. It was Hermione, after all. Chances were she would dig into whomever it took, and find out the truth anyway. "I- I was in the Room of Requirement," he admitted.

"And what, pray tell, were you doing there?" The look she gave told Neville that she may already know what he'd been doing.

"I was crying… and drinking…" He said the last part rather guiltily.

"Honestly! You too? You and Ron have been acting very strange lately, and then today, you both run off, and get smashed. It certainly makes me wonder." Her brow furrowed as she thought over the possibilities.

Neville was tempted to use this opportunity to make a run for it, but instead, he decided that Hermione was a good friend, and deserved to know what was going on. He wouldn't give Ron away, but he would at least tell her about himself. He had opened his mouth to begin, but stopped as several third years passed, uttering a word, and walking through the open portrait hole. "Um… Look, I'll explain, but can we find somewhere more private first?"

Hermione seemed to understand, and led them off. After a quick minute's walk, she stopped at the first empty passage available, and ducked into it, pulling Neville in with her.

Neville took in a deep breath, preparing for what he was somewhat sure would wind up a ramble. "Okay, I-I'm gay, and I fancy Harry, a lot, but he's straight, and I know he is, and… I was able to cope with it at first, but then I couldn't, and I started spending half the night in the common room, crying like little girl. Well, last night, Harry came down trying to figure out what was wrong, and I told him, and now he hates me, I just know it. So I couldn't sleep last night, and today, I was looking for somewhere I could be alone, and I found the Room of Requirement, and I went in and cried for a while, and then I found… a b-bottle of vodka, and I got drunk and fell asleep. And when I woke up, I… my head hurt, so I went to the hospital wing, where you found me, and now we're here." He had very nearly slipped, and mentioned Ron. He hoped Hermione wouldn't notice.

Hermione simply stared at him, wide eyed, mouth ajar. "Please, say something…" he said, fearing that she too would reject him. But she said nothing yet. Her jaw returned to its normal position, lips moving silently, and her brow was now scrunched in contemplation. "Wonderful," he muttered, his own expression like that of someone who's just entered that sickly giddy state at the start of a mental breakdown. "Now I've gone and mucked things up with you, too. I'm just going to go jump from the astronomy tower, now. I think it's tall enough I might be able to write Gran a goodbye letter on the way down."

Neville had turned around and begun walking in the astronomy tower's general direction, but was halted by a sharp tug at his robes. He turned to see Hermione staring back at him with a look he recognized from use on Ron; he had come to call it her 'what am I going to do with you' look, because of the words that always seemed to follow.

"Really, what am I going to do with you, Neville?" There they were, though the name tagged in at the end was different.

Neville stared back, the resigned-to-death happy smile somehow not effecting Hermione in the least. "You could let me go jump. That would be a good start." His voice was slightly higher, and creepily amiable…

"Look, Nev, you didn't muck things up with me, you just gave me a lot of shocking information. I don't care what your orientation is, or who you fancy. If anything, I'm more worried that you've spent the last few nights in such a terrible state, and that you thought getting yourself smashed would help. And I'm also worried that you think Harry hates you." Neville almost walked off again, but she stopped him once more. "Who do you think noticed you'd disappeared in the first place?"

Wait. Harry was worried? Then maybe-

"And before you start thinking it's because he might have feelings for you too, I'm sorry, but I doubt it." Neville's heart sank back down. "It's because he considers you a friend, and he doesn't want to see you hurt. None of us do. As a matter of fact, the only one who didn't go looking for you was Ron… He looked a little… scared, though." Uh-oh. "Neville, I know he was drinking too, and he told me he was in the Room of Requirement. He didn't say you had been there, but I think, with the timing, it all fits… Did something happen with you two? Did you get into a fight or something?"

Neville couldn't look at her. He held his head downward, his eyes darting to different spots and stains on the stone floor.

"You did, didn't you? You can tell me what happened, Neville. I'm your friend, you can-"

"Last time someone said that, I found myself losing sleep, and getting drunk, remember?" Hermione simply gave him an impatient sigh. He decided he might as well spill. She would get it out of Ron eventually. "Okay, when we were drunk, we kind of… kissed…"

Once more, Hermione's eyes widened in disbelief. "B-but he… I thought we…" She leaned against the passage wall, and slid to sitting. Her mouth was forming incoherent words, and she looked as though tears may have begun their entry into her shocked, brown eyes.

Shit! he exclaimed to himself. He had forgotten about the rumors going around that she and Ron might have feelings for each other. Well, he thought, apparently, it's one-way.

"Gods, I'm so sorry, I…" He saw that those eyes of hers were definitely tear-stricken now, and she gave a sad, lonely sniffle. His will was broken once again. He was sure he lost her this time. "Great. I'm off then. Make sure someone owls that letter to Gran." He turned back in the direction of the astronomy tower. "I hope Sinistra won't mi-"

But before he could take one full step forward, Hermione had grabbed his pant leg. He immediately lost his balance, and came crashing to the floor with a thud. "Ouch…"

"Oh! Shit. Neville, are you alright?"

"I think so, but Merlin, that hurt!" He pushed away from the floor, and brushed himself off. "And why'd you stop me? It's not like I'd really be missed. I've already pushed you, Ron, and Harry away."

Hermione wiped a stray tear from her eye, and stood with an exasperated sigh. "Neville, you didn't push us away. I already explained why with Harry. For me, I just… Well, you've heard the rumors. I do fancy Ron, no matter how big a dolt he can be." The last part was said more to herself. "I was just a little sad to find out my feelings weren't mutual. Though to be honest, I might have expected it, considering the way he looks at Harry."

Neville chose not to comment on that. Instead, he asked, "you're sure? You don't… blame me?"

The fluffy-haired girl sniffled one last time, and smiled back at him reassuringly. She reached out, gave him a quick hug, and upon pulling back, replied, "Of course not. After all, you were both drunk, and knowing Ron, I suspect the snog in question started on his end."

"Well… Started, anyway. I kind of straddled him. I was still on him when I fell asleep. I'm surprised he didn't wake me up when he left."

Hermione's cheeks went slightly pink. "That, I didn't need to know… Anyway, we should be going back to the tower, now. It's getting late, and Filch will be about soon."

She began walking back in the direction they had come from, but this time, Neville grabbed her robes, halting her. "What about Ron?"

She turned to him quickly, grabbed his wrist, and tugged him along. "Neville, this is something you'll just have to talk to him about. It's obvious that it's distressing him in one way or another, and this is between you two. I wish I could help, but the most I can do now is make sure you aren't given detention for being out past curfew." Neville heaved a breath, and followed.

Upon reaching the portrait hole, Hermione blurted, "glumbumble," to which the Fat Lady swung open.

Within were Harry, Seamus, Dean, Ginny, and Ron, talking quietly in the common room. Neville and Hermione stepped through the opening, and the group looked to see who entered. All seemed relieved to know that Neville was okay. Ron even looked up for a moment, smiling. But the moment Neville returned eye contact, he ducked his head, averting his gaze to the floor.

"Neville! There you are!" said Harry.

"What happened?" Ginny probed. "We were all worried sick! You haven't spoken a word all day, you skipped your meals, and then you disappeared!"

"I-"

"Yeah, Nev," interrupted Dean, "What happened?"

"Oh, I… Well…"

"He means to say he had a bad night, and just wanted some time alone." Hermione had noticed Neville's squirming, and remembered he didn't want his drunken actions getting around.

"Um, yeah. That's it. But I'm feeling a little better now." He gave a big, fake grin, his eyes still focused on Ron, who was still staring at anything but Neville.

Seamus grabbed Neville by the shoulder, and turned to the rest of the crowd. "Okay, Nev's all safe and sound. Now can we go to bed? Tomorrow's a Hogsmeade day, and I have a date." The group giggled to this fondly.

Ginny sighed exaggeratedly, then joked, "trust Seamus to be more worried about getting shagged than the well-being of a friend."

He playfully slapped her arm, to which she just-as-playfully slapped him in the back of the head. A small hitting war commenced which was only stopped when Harry intervened, separating the two with a wide grin.

"Ginny, be nice, and Seamus, stop hitting my girlfriend."

"Fiiine," droned Ginny, and she pecked a kiss on Harry's cheek.

Ron "ugh"-ed.

"I agree with Ron," said Seamus. "I'm not gonna sit around here and watch you two snog. Goodnight," he proclaimed, still smiling, running up the stairs toward their dorm.

Dean, sighed, shaking his head, and followed the Irishman out. Ginny quickly followed suit, giving goodnights as she skipped up to the girl's dorms.

This left Harry, Hermione, Neville, and Ron. Harry was next to go, and Ron was about to use that as an excuse to leave, too. Hermione nudged Neville.

"Go. "

Neville took a deep breath, and walked forward. "R-Ron?"

Ron stopped, along with Harry. Harry turned, but the ginger didn't.

"Um… I-It's okay, Harry. You go ahead and go to bed. We'll be there in a bit." Harry was about to protest, but Hermione shot him a very stern expression, and nodded him up the steps, walking off in the direction of the girl's dorms herself.

"Okay then. Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

When the other two were gone, Ron slowly faced Neville, his light blue eyes aimed cautiously toward the other boy, and his brow furrowed slightly.

Neville didn't see this though. He was a bundle of nerves. His hands were picking at his clothing, his eyes were focused more on Ron's torso than anything else, and his knees were starting to shake violently. "I… I-I'm so sorry Ron!" he finally forced out. "What happened; it was my fault! I was drunk, and I let my body do whatever it wanted, and I took advantage of your drunkenness, and I'm sorry!"

Ron looked at him in a state of awe. Neville wasn't sure what the look on his face meant, but he figured it was quite probable that Ron was going to un-drop his jaw soon and punch him or something. It just seemed like a Ron thing to do.

Ron slowly composed himself, but instead of running over to pummel Neville, he spoke. "Neville, you didn't take advantage of me. I was afraid you'd figure it was the other way around."

"But… when I woke up, you were-"

"I left because I thought when you woke up, you'd hate me."

Neville couldn't believe what he was hearing. That nagging voice in the back of his head tried to grab him back, but this time Neville wasn't having it. He even managed to pull together enough courage to ask Ron something he had been too afraid to ask immediately after their kiss. "Well… Did you… you know… like it?"

Ron relaxed, and smiled at the awkwardly handsome Griffindor. Neville wasn't sure how to read this sign, so he continued: "because if you didn't, I would understand. I mean, I'm not that experienced. I've only ever kissed a girl once, and I've never kissed a guy before. Well, okay, once now, and while that was bloody amazing for me, I-I'm sure I can't have been that good for you, so it would make sense… if… you…" Neville's speech drifted off.

Somewhere during this rant, Ron had come within a few feet of Neville without his noticing. By the time he did notice, Ron was standing face-to-face, mere inches from Neville. "Shut up, Nev."

Ron closed the gap, meeting Neville's lips with his own. It started short, and chaste, but quickly became more. Whenever lips separated, they would rejoin immediately, and within moments, tongue joined the fray. The two mouths explored one another again, and Neville felt himself melt into the redhead. He was taken once more by the impossible warmth, and the smell of thick, hot, bitter chocolate. His hands snaked behind Ron to the small of his back, and to the nape of his neck. A part of him was surprised that his hands should decide upon such dominant positions. The rest of him was in ecstasy.

The two continued like this for nearly a half an hour. They were absorbed in one another. Eventually, they migrated to one of the great, deep red couches, and found themselves lying against each other, breathing slowly, and contentedly.

"So… ," Said Neville quietly, hoping not to disturb their euphoria, "what happens now?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well… Do we make this a one-time thing, or do we keep going? I mean… I still want Harry, but I know that's not going to happen, and I really like this. More than just the snogging, but this. You know what I mean?"

"I think so," replied a very sleepy Ron. He let out a loud, drawn-out yawn, and continued on. "I like it too. I'd like to try to keep going… If that's okay with you."

"Yes. I think… I don't really know, though. Would we be, you know, official?"

"Well, would you want to be?"

"Would you?"

Ron thought for a moment, during which the night silence was beautifully soothing. Neville almost nodded off by the time his human cushion spoke again. "I think so. I'm not sure I'm ready to be out just yet, but yeah… I could get used to nights like this."

"Mmm… I agree. But… You know Hermione knows, right?"

"What doesn't she know?" They both barely chuckled. Too much laughing would disrupt their peace, so they kept it brief, weak, and effortless, though they meant every bit of it. "I don't mind if she knows. And Harry can probably know. And Luna. I don't see her spouting off…"

"True… Can we not tell Ginny?"

"There's no way in hell we're telling her. She'll threaten to tell Mum the moment she finds out unless I pay her, or something." They huffed a laugh again, and it was followed by more silence. Neville put an arm around Ron, who nuzzled his head into Neville's neck.

"…Ron?"

"Yeah?"

"Shouldn't we be heading up to bed?" He leaned further into Ron, resting his head against the other.

"Probably."

"…Are we going to?"

"…Bugger that."

The remainder of the night was silent, save for Ron's light, peaceful snores, and Neville's steady, quiet breathing.