Neville put his hands down and into his jacket pockets, and he looked at the ground. "I'm not exactly the bravest Gryffindor, am I? Why do you think I was always so nervous around people? That you all would reject me?"
                              
Harry felt the guilt turn in his stomach, knowing Neville thought they wouldn't accept him. "We're your friends. You could have told us."
                              
Neville absently kicked the grass on the ground. "Like you told everyone that you're gay?"
                              
Harry jerked and nearly dropped the bottle of firewhiskey. "I...I...."
                              
"I'm not accusing ya... or I'm not trying to make you feel guilty, Harry. But if there's one person who knows exactly how you feel about people knowing things... I do. I've known since school that you weren't... straight."
                              
Harry swayed and swore, looking around for the telltale signs of Disillusionment. He was probably too tossed to see them anyway.
                              
"He's not going to say anything, and he already knew all of this, too. Some of it before I did. He's helped me feel more confident, and I love him. He'll never intentionally hurt you, Harry, but I can ask him to leave. We just didn't want to overwhelm you at once."
                              
Harry said nothing. Neville wouldn't lie to him or hurt him. "I trust you," he said, quietly.
                              
"As I trust you, Harry. I know you want to wallow alone and drunk your pain away... but... please don't. We love you. Draco does, too. He needs you, like you need him. I was with him for only a few minutes, and all he could think about was you."
                              
"I'm so fucked up, Neville. He deserves better."
                              
"No... no, Harry. You're hurting. You're recovering. Like he is. He was scared of me, Harry. He didn't want to look at me, or talk to me. That's you that helped him through this... like he can help you. You're not alone, Harry."
                              
Neville took another step forward, and Harry whispered, "Don't...."
                              
"I'm not going to hurt you, Harry. I promise... I'm here just to help you. I can't let you be alone. Please... please... give me the bottle. You've had enough."
                              
Harry looked down at the bottle. It was his lifeline. It numbed the pain, so he could survive this night. He wanted to fade out... pass out, with no care where he was or what happened. Merlin, he longed for that abyss. He shook his head. He wanted oblivion.
                              
"Harry..." Neville said, stepping closer. He was within grabbing distance, and Harry was resisting the urge to back away. "Harry, please. What if Draco was here?"
                              
Harry winced and tears started welling, again. "He needs someone better than me."
                              
Neville's voice was soft. "He only wants you, Harry. He's never going to get better without you."
                              
"He's healed, now. Any healer can help him," the nasty voice in his head said.
                              
Neville took his hands out of his pockets. "He won't accept anyone else, Harry. He won't even try. He fights you about doing his exercises, right? Do you think that he'll ever let someone else touch him that's not you? Geez, Harry... he's just as scared and traumatized as you are. Don't let his mask make you think otherwise. He was freaking out about what happened, not out of guilt... but worried that you might not come back. Draco won't survive without you, Harry. You know that... right?"
                              
Harry's shoulders dropped. Some part of him knew that. The way that Draco always looked away when stressed and goes in his head to protect himself. Harry shuddered at the image of Draco in the Janus-Thickey Ward, frozen and staring at the wall. How many times did Draco tell him that if it wasn't for him, he'd still be trapped in his head?