***
                              
Neville did not know what to do. Blaise returned to their room right when dinner was to start and just sat on the bed. He stared vacantly at the window and didn't respond in any way. Neville sent a message off to the headmistress that Blaise was indisposed for the night and began his vigil. He tried to talk to him, but Blaise didn't want to talk. Neville respected that he needed time, but all he could do was sit next to him and squeeze his hand to remind him that he was there.
                              
He had no idea what triggered this setback, and this was the worse he had ever seen Blaise. He must be coming to terms with something. Something worse than Flint... worse than Tracey. Which almost made Neville shudder. This was so reminiscent of the time that Blaise had tried to end their relationship. He hadn't been aware of his surroundings, then either. Neville knew that he went that bad when Blaise thought he had lost him. He wasn't sure how they were related: loss, loneliness or just misery.
                              
Tears would randomly fall from Blaise's eyes, and Neville just waited, only clenching his hand to remind him that he wasn't alone. The hours passed and Blaise stayed rigid, unable to cry fully, but unable to ignore his pain. Neville stayed up with him until the sun slowly crested the horizon.
                              
"Blaise? Boo? It's morning... do you want me to call off your classes, today?" he asked as Thursday, he taught all day.
                              
Blaise's sad, tired eyes finally met his, and he stared at him for a few minutes, shoring up the strength to respond. He shook his head.
                              
"Honey... mio amore... you've been up all night and...."
                              
"No, I'm a professor. I need to teach my class," he whispered and then slowly wrapped his arms around him. "I'm sorry I kept you up."
                              
"It's okay, boo. That's what partners do when their loved ones need them. How are you?"
                              
Blaise let go to look in his eyes, but lowered them, ashamed. Neville hated that look and understood it immediately. Blaise didn't want to talk about it because it was humiliating. That's what hurt him the most. The two times that Blaise had stopped them from having sex were about that. The abuse, the manipulation and the confusion over his desires and feelings. Something was eating at him.
                              
"Blaise... you can tell me. I'll never think less of you. Please believe that!" he pleaded. His soulmate had to have faith in him. Anything less was just too upsetting to think about.
                              
"I know, but I don't want to talk about it. It was too painful then and too... distressing now. I'll be fine. Let's eat and go to class," he murmured, and Neville didn't push him. He had patience, and Blaise would tell him when he was ready.
                              
Blaise drank a double-shot espresso with his pork and bangers and then summoned his owl to the window. Neville read the note as Blaise wrote it. I, Blaise Zabini, revoke my permission to allow Draco Malfoy to know my medical and mental health information. He then attached it to the owl's leg and sent it off to Madam Denkar.
                              
Neville looked up at him, worried that he had had a falling out with Draco. He raised his eyebrows for an explanation.
                              
"She's using us against each other, and I won't let her hurt Draco for me," Blaise said, quietly.
                              
"That's... terrible. I'm sorry."
                              
"The price we have to pay... but I don't want Draco to pay for it. He'll break under pressure, and he needs to worry about his own problems. I'll be fine. It was just... too deep," Blaise said.
                              
"Too deep" is how he described Theo's mental attack during the SAD showdown. Neville didn't like that there was deeper stuff that Blaise had yet to tell him about. He was almost afraid that there was worse stuff than what Blaise had already told him. "Blaise... you told me about Fl... your third year and some of the other hard... things. This is hurting you so much...."