NOTES: I'm sorry this took a while. But I quite like writing this chapter. So, I hope you guys like it :)

Sometimes, Neville Longbottom would wish that he got a different set of parents. He was glad that none of his friends knew the truth about them. It was not because he was ashamed; no, it wasn't that. Frank and Alice Longbottom would always be too good to be true, war heroes that they were. His friends would tell him how awesome it was for him to have heroes for parents. But he knew that if they found that his parents had lost their mind and were residing in St Mungo's, unable to even recognise their own son, his friends' adoration would be gone. Things were already difficult for him. People always saw him as a failure, comparing him to all the great things his parents, especially his father, did when they were his age. The truth was, Neville himself always felt like a failure. It was bad enough that his family used to think that he'd end up a Squib. But now that he was actually at Hogwarts, witnessing how everyone was so much better than him, it felt like the final nail in the coffin. Having Harry Potter in your year and House was awful, especially when people kept on comparing you, the Boy-Who-Could-Be, and Harry Potter, the star of the show. Neville always felt the pressure of everyone's expectation down his neck. People always expected him to do great things like his parents did, and he always had to keep his tears at bay when they looked at him in disappointment when he failed them. The only subject that he was rather good at was Herbology, which came almost naturally to him. But then again, at times of war, what good would his extensive Herbology knowledge do for him?

His second year hadn't started long enough when he was once again reminded of the fact that he barely passed his classes every year. They had their first DADA lesson with the new professor, that god-awful git Gilderoy Lockhart. If there was one thing that every boy at Hogwarts agreed on, ranging from age eleven to seventeen, be it Gryffindor or Slytherin or Ravenclaw or Hufflepuf, it would be the fact that Lockhart was a total arse. Bloody idiot was a phony, in Neville's opinion. His exploits that he wrote in his books were much too bizarre to be true, and yet a lot of young witches (and even mothers) seemed to believe him. His incapability proved during that first lesson they had, when he brought a cage full of pixies and set them loose in class. Lockhart told them that they should try capturing the pixies and put them back into their cage. But those Cornish Pixies were sneaky little buggers. After sometime, most of the students in class had run out of the room to avoid getting bitten or poked by those pixies' sharp nails. Neville would have gotten out himself, if it hadn't for the fact that the pixies got him hanging by the hook on the ceiling. Being the noble hero he was, Lockhart ran back into his private chamber and left Harry and Ron and Hermione to fix things. Thanks to Hermione's quick thinking, she used the Freezing Charm before things got too crazy. The humiliation Neville suffered, getting picked on by other students because he lost in a fight against pixies, tempted him to consider dropping out of Hogwarts. It didn't matter that everyone else had left the class as well when the pixies began to attack. All they remembered was Neville hanging like a chandelier.

"…let – me – go! Get your hands off me or I swear to Merlin, I'll hex you!" Neville heard a girlish voice said as he made his way back from the library to Gryffindor Common Room. He knew the voice anyway, and when he saw the crazy curls, he saw that it was Hermione.

"Not until you promise me, Granger. Not until you say the words," another voice said. This one brought Neville to shudder a bit as he pictured an episode of Malfoy picking on him on his first day at Hogwarts.

"What do you care anyway? I thought you didn't want my filthy Mudblood hands touching you. So, bugger off, you great git."

Neville saw how Malfoy flinched at the venom in Hermione's tone, and the Gryffindor remembered that just the other day, Malfoy had called Hermione a Mudblood. It'd been known to everyone, at least the students in Neville's year, that Malfoy and Harry had become rather civil ever since the start of the year. But after that slip-up Malfoy made, Harry had resented Malfoy again like he did a year prior. This time, because his best friend was involved, the hatred Harry had for Malfoy had tripled. Up until that day, Neville was just as convinced as Harry that Malfoy was a git and could never change. But now that he was witnessing the interaction between Malfoy and Hermione, seeing how Malfoy held Hermione's hand firmly yet gently, even as he kept dodging Hermione's kicks to his shin, Neville realised that he had been wrong about Malfoy – that everyone had been wrong.

"Merlin, you're so frustratingly stubborn, Granger," Malfoy snapped, stepping to the side again to avoid Hermione's foot.

"I'm frustrating? Well, that's rich, Malfoy, coming from you. Have you ever looked at yourself in the mirror? Because, you're just as bloody frustrating, and irritating, and annoying, and – just let go of my hand!"

"I'll let go of your hand if you just promise me. Don't wander around alone again, Granger. Take Weasley for all I care, though I prefer Potter any day. Just make sure you have someone with you."

"I am not helpless, Malfoy," Hermione spat, her voice getting louder. "I don't need Harry or Ron to protect me. I can bloody well protect myself."

"I know that, Granger. The thing is…" Malfoy sighed heavily, and from where Neville hid, he saw the blond ran a hand through his hair. "I really am not in the mood to fight you. So, just do us all a favour and promise me, okay?"

"What do you – "

"Granger."

There was a pause before, "Okay. I promise."

Malfoy looked relieved and for a split second, Neville thought he saw a ghost of a smile on the other boy's pale face. Pleased with himself, he finally let go of Hermione's hands for her to go, her brown eyes still looking at him even as she walked away. Malfoy never let his eyes off Hermione until she took the stairs and disappeared, and the Slytherin let out a huge breath of relief as he lowered himself onto the ground. The boy leaned onto the wall behind him as he loosened his tie, the whole time he was completely oblivious to the fact that he wasn't alone. Neville knew firsthand about Malfoy's growing relationship with Harry and his two friends (before his slip-up), saw the bullying prat went to save the day with them. But it didn't mean that he wasn't taken aback with what he just saw. He'd never seen Malfoy looking this human before, caring about someone who wasn't himself, let alone a Muggle-born. It was plain to see that Malfoy, who always looked like he was the epitome of a heartless human being despite his relatively young age, genuinely cared for Hermione's well-being. Neville realised that with the attacks that happened lately, it would be a matter of time before it got to Hermione. Not only she was a Muggle-born, Hermione also happened to be the most popular Muggle-born at school, being Harry Potter's friend. It was understandable that Malfoy, if he truly cared about Hermione, would worry about her.

Neville was too lost in his thoughts regarding what he just found, he accidentally dropped the book he'd borrowed from Professor Sprout, creating a loud thud against the floor. Malfoy jerked violently as he whipped around toward him, his wand at the ready. When the blond saw that it was only Neville, he relaxed visibly, lowering his wand. Putting up his guards like he always, Malfoy said, "What are you doing here, Longbottom?"

It almost came like an automatic response when Neville's feet began to shake and all of his nerves told him to run. But Dumbledore's word rang in his head, and he knew that there was a reason why the Sorting Hat put him in Gryffindor. Bracing himself, Neville answered, "I…I was on the way back from the library when I… When I heard you and Hermione talking."

"What did you hear?" Malfoy drawled, his composure stiffening. It took his whole being to stop himself from running away like a coward. For someone who was only a month older than himself, Malfoy could be terrifying.

"I heard enough," Neville said, forcing himself to sound strong. He tried to borrow his parents' bravery into himself, and it helped a great deal.

"Really?" Malfoy pressed on, cocking an eye brow. The way he did it was to intimidate Neville, but the Gryffindor had a newfound courage already.

Proud of himself, he bravely continued. "Yeah. I heard enough to come to the conclusion that you're not as bad as you wanted yourself to be."

Malfoy looked like he was going to kill Neville right then and there, and Neville was ready to bolt before Malfoy could hex him. But then Malfoy dropped his guard, and emotions began to flood in his normally-dead eyes. He looked resigned as he lowered himself to the ground again, covering his face with his hands. When he believed it was safe to approach the Slytherin, Neville carefully stepped closer, close enough that he ended up sitting beside Malfoy. There was a good few inches between them, but still. Compared to all the times when Malfoy bullied him? This was a good improvement than everything Neville was used to. They were quiet for a few minutes, mulling over each other's thoughts respectively. Despite his new revelation about the blond, Neville couldn't just forget the fact that Malfoy's father was part of the people who had tortured his parents into insanity. True, Lucius Malfoy didn't really get his hands on Neville's parents. But his Grandma had often told him that Malfoy senior was a Death Eater, and since Death Eaters were the ones who had made his parents suffered, in Neville's opinion, it was basically the same thing. But looking at the Slytherin, he could tell that Malfoy wasn't his father.

Because Lucius Malfoy wouldn't go asking his Muggle-born nemesis to be careful.

"Will you do something for me, Longbottom?" Malfoy asked in a small voice, catching Neville off guard. For the the first time since Neville knew the Slytherin, he'd never once heard Malfoy sounded that vulnerable.

"Depends," Neville said warily. "If you want me to do something ridiculous like streaking across the Quidditch pitch, I might have to say no."

A look of amusement crossed the blond's face, a small smile making an appearance. "That's actually interesting, but I'm not asking you to do that."

"What is it then?" Neville asked, curious. It doubled when he saw a serious look took over Malfoy's face as his grey eyes darkened a bit.

"Please make sure Granger is never alone."

Ginny felt weird. She felt like she was losing her mind.

For the past few weeks, ever since the first attack, she always found herself in weird places, having no idea how she'd ended up there. There were long periods of time that went missing from her mind. At first, she didn't give it much thought, thinking that she must have dosed off and then sleepwalked. The first time she realised something was wrong was when Filch's cat Mrs Norris was Petrified. When she heard about it, she found herself lying on the floor in front of the bathroom where Moaning Myrtle inhibited. There was blood tainting her fingers. It began to scare her because she really had no idea how she'd ended up there with blood on her fingers when the last thing she remembered was going to the Great Hall for dinner. The last time it happened, Justin Finch-Fletchley was Petrified. That was when Ginny began to suspect that she was the one who wrote the warnings on the wall, and that she too had released the monster that had Petrified Mrs Norris and Justin. The burden of knowing that she might be behind the attacks was a little too much for her, she'd become withdrawn. She avoided people, believing that if she was alone, she wouldn't be harming people again.

Her only solace was the diary her parents bought for her. When she first wrote into her diary on the first day of school, writing about how glad she was for getting Sorted into Gryffindor, although she had been worried (and disappointed) when Ron (and a certain someone) hadn't been there during the Sorting. But then her writings disappeared from the page of her diary and was replaced by someone else's. The new writings congratulated her for getting into Gryffindor and told her not to worry about her brother because it turned out everything was alright anyway. Curious, Ginny asked who was this person who had written back to her. The answer surprised her, saying that he was Tom Riddle – the same Tom who owned the diary. He told her that the diary was enchanted so that everything about him would be preserved in the diary. Ginny spent the whole night writing to Tom, who was so nice every time he answered her. It didn't take long for Ginny to become attached to the diary. Anywhere she went, the diary always came with her. When she wasn't doing homework, she'd be writing to Tom. People would ask her what she was doing, and she'd merely say homework. She told Tom everything, feeling that she'd finally found a true friend that would listen to her without judging her. She hadn't told him about the attacks though, or her suspicion about her part in it. She feared that once Tom found out, he'd be repulsed and would stop answering her. Ginny decided that she better kept quiet about it.

"Hello, Ginevra," a voice said one day when Ginny was sitting by the lake, writing to Tom. Turning around, the young Weasley found that it was only Luna Lovegood.

"Oh, hey Luna," Ginny answered.

"I'm sorry for bothering you," Luna said as she sat beside Ginny. "I didn't see you doing your homework. I thought the Wrackspurt got you."

"I'm sorry – the what?" Ginny repeated. But Luna didn't seem to hear her. Those huge pale-eyes of her glanced at the book in Ginny's hand before she averted her gaze toward the Lake. Swiftly, after she bade Tom farewell ("Gotta go, Tom. I'll talk to you again tonight."), Ginny pushed the diary back into her bag.

"I love it here," Luna suddenly said, still without looking at Ginny. "The Black Lake reminds me of the time my parents took me to the beach, back when my mother was alive. There were a lot of people too, families hanging out, friends joking around…"

"I'm sorry about your mother," Ginny said solemnly. Being close to her own mother, Ginny couldn't imagine growing up without Molly. She watched Luna crossed her hands on her lap, and she noticed how the girl's fingers trembled. A part of Ginny felt guilty because she realised, what with her pulling herself away from everyone, she'd left Luna alone. Knowing how horrible others could be toward her friend, she could tell that things hadn't been easy for Luna.

"Are you all right, Ginny?" Luna asked. It caught Ginny off guard, especially when she finally turned around to look at the ginger, worry filling those pale, big eyes of hers.

"I…I'm fine," Ginny stuttered. "Why did you ask?"

Luna shrugged. "Except during class, I haven't seen you around, Gin. I'm worried about you."

"You're worried about me," Ginny repeated dumbly. Her jaw dropped when Luna nodded her head.

"Yeah. Isn't that what friends supposed to do?"

"Well yes, but…" Eyeing Luna closely, Ginny felt even more guilty. She had been terrible friend for Luna. The blonde looked like she hadn't slept for days. "What about you, Luna? How are you?"

Again, Luna didn't answer her question. Instead, the Ravenclaw bluntly said, "The Petrified ones are just a step away from being dead, right? Have you ever wondered whether they've seen Heaven?"

"I- I don't know, Luna," Ginny said, frowning. "I never thought about it that way."

"No one does, I suppose," Luna said as she brought herself to stand. Dusting the strands of grass from her skirt, Luna asked one more time. "Are you sure you're alright, Ginny? You can trust me me with whatever is bothering you."

It almost slipped her lips, Ginny swore. She almost told Luna everything. But something in her, when her eyes locked with Luna's and found a flicker of sadness in her eyes, finally decided against it. She knew that Luna was hiding her own pain, and the last thing Ginny wanted was to burden her friend with her problems.

"I'm all right, Luna. I promise," Ginny said, giving a small smile.

"Oh well," Luna said, shrugging again. "I'll leave you alone to write your diary then. But I hope you know you're not alone."