Neville took a deep breath to keep from crying too terribly hard. Even though he did severely doubt that anyone would be able to break whatever wards were put on his room, Pomfrey had said the headmaster would be putting most of them up, it still made him feel a little better to know there was some little sliver of hope. "Th-thank you."
He was comforted by the feel of Harry's hand on his cheek, though it made him feel guilty at the same time. He'd been avoiding everyone, his friends, his girlfriend, all of the people he knew he could trust. And now when he finally talked to one of them all he did was unload his emotions. "I... I'm sorry. I'm sure you have more important things to do than s-sit here and listen to m-me cry."
He just felt like no matter how hard they tried they still looked at him differently now. Not necessarily badly, many of them just had pity or sorrow in their eyes when they met his and treated him like he was fragile, broken.
He supposed in a way he was. He didn't know how to identify anymore. He'd finally been able to figure out who he thought he was over the past few years but everything was different now. He didn't feel like he could call himself a wizard without magic, or really identify as a werewolf since he didn't feel the way most of them did, and he had no idea what life was like for a muggle. He was now an outcast of every world he could possibly belong.