The screaming made it hard to sleep.
Neville knew that what he'd been hearing since the very first day of school wasn't real. Well, it was real, technically. It just wasn't actively happening in real life.
He bit his lip, pulling the blanket tighter around his shoulders. The window was cold against his forehead. He gazed out at the darkness of the night, his eyes catching on the billowing silhouettes of the dementors.
It was useless, he decided. No matter where he went, what he did, the things he thought about... Nothing could block out the sound of tortured screams rattling around in his skull.
Neville pushed himself off the small window ledge. The lap blanket his grandmother had insisted on packing billowed behind him like a cloak, but he couldn’t find it in him to enjoy the fantastical feeling of it.
Making his way to the couch in the common room, he curled into the side of the arm. Sinking into the cushions, he let his head fall back.
He'd fallen asleep in History of Magic that day. That hour of rest was going to have to suffice for the next few days. He'd discovered rather quickly that the only way he could fall asleep was if he didn't have the energy to do anything else. Only once he was that exhausted, tired enough to make him nearly drop, could he finally sleep.
He stared into the flickering flames of the fireplace, willing himself to be entranced and just not think for a while. They danced to and fro, oranges and reds morphing into startling blue.
"Neville?!"
He nearly leaped out of his own skin at the whispered exclamation. Spinning, his heart pounding in his throat, he stared up at the staircase to the girl's dormitories.
"Ginny," he breathed, "you scared the living daylights out of me!"
She stifled her laughter behind her hand. "Sorry," she squeaked out, "but you should have seen your face!"
Neville rolled his eyes at her, one hand placed upon his chest to calm his heart. Despite himself, a small smile crept over his face. He had no doubt that his reaction had, indeed, been priceless.
The youngest Weasley dismounted the last few steps and crossed to the couch, plopping herself onto the soft surface.
"What were you looking at?" She asked.
Neville gestured vaguely at the fireplace. "Just the flames," he stated. "Must have gotten lost in my own head."
Ginny hummed. "And," she said, dragging out the first letter, "why are you getting lost in the fire and not upstairs? In your bed? Asleep?"
The smile slowly fell from his face, replaced with sad melancholy. The day on the train, when he'd freaked out in the presence of the dementor, Ginny and Luna had been made aware of his family's secret. He'd told them what had happened to his parents, as well as what he'd heard when the creature drew close to them.
They were, understandably, horrified. Ginny had sworn violently, vowing curses upon any responsible party. Luna had laid a gentle hand on his shoulder, letting him know with a single touch that, although the bizarre Ravenclaw wasn't as outspoken as the fiery ginger, she still cared for him.
While his friends knew about his parents'... accident, he had managed to keep to himself how much the guards of Azkaban were still affecting him. The sleepless nights were brushed off as normal academic anxiety and, well, Neville-levels of anxiety.
Any excuse he could think of to hide the real reason he hadn't slept the whole night in nearly a month.
"Hey," Ginny whispered. "Are... Are you alright, Nev?" Her blue eyes were filled with concern, her brows furrowed as she looked at him.
"I'm fine," he said quickly. "Just- Ya know, couldn't sleep."
Ginny gave him a look, one clearly stating she didn't believe him. "Are you sure?" She asked. "That would be... What, the fourth time this week?"
Neville shrugged. "Right around there," he said, trying to brush his statement off as casual.
"Neville," Ginny said sternly, "Today is Wednesday- Er, Thursday now, but whatever. There's only been four nights."
Neville didn't meet her eyes.
"Do you mean to tell me that you haven't slept at all this week?"
"Well," Neville said, "not exactly! I get an hour here and there during classes." He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.
Ginny’s jaw had dropped. "How many hours of sleep are you running on?"
"I don't know-"
"Give me a guesstimate."
He was quiet for a few moments before admitting, "Five or six."
Ginny almost combusted. "Hours?!" She exclaimed before slapping a hand over her mouth to silence herself. Finally, she hissed, "Why are you not sleeping, Longbottom?"
Exhausted, exhausted beyond fighting with her, Neville began to cave. "I can't," he whispered.
"Why not?!"
He met her eyes, his own no doubt betraying how tired he truly was. Quietly, defeated, Neville asked, "Why do you think?"
"I don't know," Ginny blustered. She cut herself off suddenly, however, and her eyes widened as her mouth fell into an 'O'. "They're still bothering you, aren't they?"
"They never stopped," Neville responded miserably.
Ginny placed a small hand on Neville’s shoulder. "I'm so sorry," she said, forlorn. "Can you... Still hear them?"
"I can't get those damned sounds out of my head, Gin." Neville pulled his blanket tighter around his body. "They're constantly there, at the back of my mind. I can't shake them, no matter what I do. Sure as hell can't sleep with it, either."
Hesitantly, Ginny wrapped her arm around his blanket-draped body. He leaned into her, letting his head fall. She rubbed her hand up and down his back, trying to imitate her mother's touch whenever she and her brothers didn't feel well.
Even if Neville had never known the love of a mother's touch, he still found comfort in the grounding presence of a gentle hand on his skin.
"Nev," Ginny began, "you can't just- Not sleep. You know that, right? You can't go an entire term running on fumes!" She rested her cheek on the top of his head. "It'll drive you into the ground."
"I know," he said softly. "And I do fall asleep... Eventually. I can go for a few days, then I'll crash and sleep for a good few hours." He huddled closer to her. "That'll have to be enough, for now."
Ginny sighed, pressing her lips to his temple. "I wish I could do something for you. Make it easier."
"You could hex me," he suggested, only half joking. "Knock me out and make me sleep."
"You know I'd never do that, Neville."
"Eh," he shrugged, "maybe I'll get Hermione to do it." He winced at the memory of their first year.
"We'll come up with something, alright?" Ginnt insisted. "I hate to see you going through this. It isn't fair."
"Life's not fair, Gin," he stated flatly.
"No," she agreed. "But I'll be damned if I do nothing for my best friend."
A small smile flitted over his face. "With that loyalty, it's a wonder you're not in Hufflepuff."
She playfully shoved at his shoulder. "Oh, shut it," she laughed.
They fell together again, Ginny’s arms around his shoulders as Neville curled into her. It wasn’t perfect, but it was enough.
Distant screaming still echoed in his mind, but with Ginny’s comforting touch and the sound of her voice, it was enough.
It had to be enough.