Can I Keep Him?

CHAPTER 3: You Can't Escape What's in Your Mind

Ron went over to his dresser and dug out a set of pajamas. He threw them on his bed, and dug out a second set for Neville.

Harry rummaged around his trunk and got out his own pajamas. Like everything else, they didn't fit well because they'd first belonged to Dudley.

Neville put his pajamas on. He was shorter than Ron and so the arms and legs were a bit long, but other than that, they seemed to fit all right for the most part.

All three of them climbed into their beds and Ron shut the light off. There wasn't really much talking as they started to drift to sleep.

Neville lay awake for some time. He could leave now. No one was awake. He could just Floo home. But he didn't want to go back to that gloomy old house right now. But what about his plants? They needed special care. As it was, they had been suffering while he was at Hogwarts. Gran just couldn't give them the care they needed. She didn't understand the plants like Neville did. Gran. He hadn't shed a single tear since he left St. Mungos. Was it wrong that he wasn't huddled in a corner now, sobbing? He loved her, really he did. She'd taken care of him for the last 15 years. But she never really understood him. She kept trying to find his father in him, and Frank Longbottom and Neville Longbottom were apparently two very different people. Frank Longbottom was brave and noble; Neville Longbottom wasn't. Neville was a loner. He wondered about what his dad had been like in Hogwarts. Gran never mentioned him having a lot of friends really.

He'd just have to go back and water his plants whenever he needed to. Maybe he could bring some of the more high maintenance ones here for the summer so that he wouldn't have to worry so much. The mureux pluma spent 10 months of the year kind of hibernating, pretty much dead, but in July and August, it always bloomed like there was no tomorrow. It was gorgeous, with red and purple and pink and blue petals that intertwined and blended in such a great harmony. Some of the petals were so soft and light, like goose down. Some of the outside petals were kind of like quills or little spikes. The most amazing thing of all though, was that at dawn, it almost sounded like it was singing with the sun and the breeze washed over its dew-covered petals. Neville almost always woke early in summer to see that plant; he'd had it since fourth year. Some plants, like his precious Mimbilus Milbletonia he admired for his their special talents and defenses. The mureux pluma he admired solely for its beauty.

With images of his plants floating around his head. He fell asleep.

Neville woke and wondered what had awakened him. He realized there were sounds coming from Harry's bed. He was talking in his sleep. Neville rolled over and looked at Ron. Harry had woken Ron up too.

Ron put a finger to his lips to tell him not to say anything and jerked his head at the window. He got up and went over to it and Neville followed.
Neville whispered, "Shouldn't we wake him?"

Ron shook his head. "It's been going on for about half an hour. Poor bloke."

"What's he dreaming?"

"Just listen."

Neville closed his eyes and listened.

"No, no, no! Sirius, Sirius, come back. Please...Let go of me, you bloody wolf. I need to get to Sirius. He's just behind that...curtain. You're gonna die, Lestrange...You killed him a... you're gonna die. I'm not gonna...you hurt more people. I'm sorry...I'm sorry...I'm sorry, Mum...Dad...Cedric...Sirius...Please, no...Just go away, all of you. No, don't kill them! Not again, please not again. N..." Interspersed throughout Harry's one-sided conversation were sobs.

Ron looked at his best friend with pity. Then he turned back to Neville. "Poor bloke. You can't escape what's inside your own head. Nobody can." He quietly moved some things off the window ledge and sat down.

"It's not his fault they're dead though, is it?" asked Neville. He didn't think it was. He glanced back at Harry. It was odd to say Harry, the one who always seemed strong and confident, so upset and vulnerable-looking. Sure Harry had had nightmares at Hogwarts, but rarely did they seem this bad.

"Try telling him that. He feels like it is."

"Why?"

Ron's face became thoughtful. "Well, they say that a soldier only feels the guilt for the guy he kills. But the commanding officers, they're responsible for everybody under them that dies and anybody that everyone under him kills. Look at it this way: Harry's one big general. Dumbledore too, I think. Can you imagine it? The weight of the world on your shoulders? Feeling like you've got to look out for everybody and that if anybody gets hurt, it's your fault. Just yours. Nobody else's? It's bad enough to feel that way during the day, but even at night he can't escape it. It's gotten worse this summer. That's why he's here.

"Dumbledore was going to find him somewhere safer but...with all that went on at the Department of Mysteries last year, Mum really wanted him with us and Dumbledore didn't have anywhere better to put him. Mum said that what Harry needs right now is to feel loved and be comforted and told that it's okay to cry about his godfather. I think it's going to take more than that though. Much more." Ron barely even seemed aware that Neville was in the room anymore. It was more like he was talking to himself. "We can't force Harry to talk. Hermione and I have been writing all month discussing it. If we made him tell us everything, it'd only make things worse, I'm sure of it. But he's got to talk sometime. He's got this bad habit of letting everything get real bottled up, and then it just sort of bursts. And when all his bottled up emotions burst...he usually goes and does something stupid. Really stupid."

Neville watched as Harry's hand went to his forehead and he was almost sure that Harry said the word "Voldemort". Now Harry was saying something else.

"How could you do it? Huh? You were supposed to be their friend. One of their best friends. How could you betray them?" Harry muttered.

"Who's that he's talking about now?" whispered Neville. He knew Harry wasn't talking about Voldemort.

"Peter Pettigrew. If I ever find that no good, piece of filth, too horrible to even be the grease in Snape's hair, I'm going to kill him. I'm going to strangle him with my bare hands and kill him."

Neville didn't really know who Pettigrew was other than the old story about Sirius Black killing him. But by now he'd gathered that Sirius Black was innocent. So where did that leave Pettigrew exactly?

Harry had stopped muttering and his breathing slowed again. He looked exhausted, but slowly his face calmed and looked almost peaceful. Ron nodded his head at their beds, satisfied that Harry's trouble was over...for now.

"Did you know he was going to have these nightmares?" whispered Neville.

"I knew he had nightmares after the Tri-Wizard tournament. I woke up a few times when we were staying together over the summer. I don't think the nightmares ever really went away. I figured that after what happened at the end of last year, they'd be worse than before. I was right," Ron said softly. "I didn't want to be right. Don't tell Harry or anyone about any of this. Harry wouldn't understand."

"It's his dreams though. His nightmares." Neville didn't understand exactly what it was that Ron didn't want him to tell. Was it the fact that Ron knew Harry was having nightmares? Or the fact that Ron listened to find out what was going on in Harry's head?

Ron shook his head. "He wouldn't understand that Hermione and I are trying to help. That all of us are. He doesn't want us in danger. Well, it's too late for that. We're in this and we're in this to stay. That's all there is to it." He climbed back in bed under the covers and rolled over, facing away from Neville.

Neville lay there for a while, digesting all this new information. Some of it was less shocking than others. As Neville's mind swam on the brink of consciousness, he remembered something he read a very long time ago, in a Muggle book. One of the few he'd ever read. It was a character with a silly name like Merry or some such. What was it he had said? It sounded very much like what Ron had just said. "You can trust us to stick to you through thick and thin, to the bitter end. But cannot trust us to let you go off alone. We're your friends." That was it.