Disclaimer: All characters belong to J.K. Rowling, except Graces Malfoy, who is my own. I do not claim any ownership of the characters or settings contained within. This story is for entertainment only and is not part of the official story line.

Author's notes: Graces is pronounced Gray-cees in case anyone was wondering. And I am thrilled to see my list of followers growing! Thank you all so much I shall try not to disappoint! And a special thanks to my beta Aurthurdent2!

Chapter 4

"Graces? Graces, are you in here?"

Neville woke with a start at hearing an unfamiliar voice, coming from the front of the Greenhouse.

"Graces?"

The person of the hour was now sitting upright her face screwed in horror. "Hide," she hissed as she desperately began grabbing at the ground for her clothes. Neville, throwing on his robes and gathering his clothes, ducked under a table, moving various plants in front of him so he was not to be seen.

"Graces?" the mystery boy's voice was now becoming louder, he was so close Neville could hear his hands brushing against his clothing.

"What?" Graces snapped, fumbling with the buttons on her blouse, as she only buttoned them enough to cover her.

"There you are!" Blaize Zambini emerged from the darkness in dark silk pajamas. "I've been looking for you for an hour."

"What are you doing here? And why are you looking for me? You were fast asleep at eight! At eight! I remember because I could not convince Greg or Vincent to wake you. They each said something about beauty sleep and you not being pleasant." Graces ranted crossley.

"Well I most certainly don't want to be here," Zambini drawled, sitting on the floor next to the blond, his dark skin making them look like night and day, "it's now four in the morning. I much rather be in the dungeons warm in my own bed. Unfortunately, your git of a brother woke me up; rather rudely I might add, at three, demanding that I go look for you."

Graces groaned and her face flushed with anger. "I told him I wanted to be alone tonight! I specifically ordered for him to leave me alone," she whined.

"And he has listened to you, cara mia," Zambini smiled, throwing his arm casually over her; the familiarity causing Neville to grit his teeth as a sting of jealousy coursed through him, "Draco Malfoy is not the one that has come over to you. He has left you alone."

Graces just rolled her eyes and crossed her arms in agitation, apparently in no mood for Slytherin logic.

"Merlin's beard Graces! Did you drink all this?" The Slytherin boy exclaimed, picking up the empty bottle of firewhisky and noticing another bottle half drained, near Graces. "No wonder you look so tussled."

"So what if I did," Graces muttered, "it's my business, not yours."

Zambini sat quietly for a few minutes, holding the bottle in one hand his thumb moving over the label. "What are we going to do with you Miss Malfoy?" he asked sadly.

"Nothing. There is nothing to do, just leave me be," Graces answered hollowly, her voice far smaller than it had been originally when talking to her friend.

"Can't," Zambini stated firmly, seeming to snap out of his reverie and bouncing back to the animated figure he was before, "I can't have the future Mrs. Zambini going off in the middle of the night drinking herself into a stupor," he declared winking down at her, "besides with you looking so flush and tousled some bloke may find you and ravage you before I ever get the chance."

"Well I am not the future Zambini, so you can rest easy on that front and there is no way I am letting you ravage me," Graces laughed, standing up shakily before almost side stepping into a desk. Zambini caught her though and swooped her up in his arms cradling her close to his chest.

"Come, come, my love, your brother has probably caused chaos in the dungeons over you. I can't imagine anyone is sleeping with him ranting and pacing."

"No," Graces whimpered, laying her forehead down in the crook of his neck, "let me stay. Please, Blaize."

"No, no, my sweet, that will not work this time. I am returning you to your brother and your bed. I much rather deal with your wrath than his at the moment. You need water, rest, and the infamous Zambini hangover potion, in that order."

"Why can't I have the hangover potion first?" Graces whined.

"My dear, I had to wake up, from a very erotic dream, at three in the morning and deal with a very irate Draco Malfoy because of you. Therefore, I am going to enjoy your pain tomorrow morning before I allow your relief."

"And here I thought you loved me; I thought I was the center of your world," Graces pouted, jokingly.

The dark haired boy just laughed vibrantly at Graces antics and began walking out of the Greenhouse still holding her in his arms despite her protests, "That won't work on me, Graces Malfoy. I have known you far too long."

Neville waited, before wandering back to his own bed. He laid there in the early morning gleam, wondering what Graces relationship with the handsome Slytherin was. He could not shake the sickening jealous feeling that was now burning in his stomach. Maybe they're just friends. I shouldn't jump to conclusions. She said she wanted me, after all, and their banter was playful and teasing. He could still smell Graces all over him and comforted himself with the knowledge that she chose to be with him. He smiled as he drifted into slumber, thinking about how that had to be the best night of his life. And he prayed there was more to come.

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Neville silently vowed never to drink again. The Gryffindor's head was pounding so violently his teeth hurt and his stomach felt like it was filled with live slugs. He barely made it to the loo in time to spill out its contents. He wondered idly if this was how Ron Weasley felt second year, when his wand back fired from trying to hex Draco Malfoy.

"Not feeling to great today, eh mate?" Ron asked as Neville reappeared from the bathroom, falling back onto his bed.

"Just peachy, can't you tell?" Neville muttered bitterly, in no mood at all to be teased.

"Where were you last night anyway?" Harry questioned from his bed as he tried to smooth down his mess of a hair, before heading down to breakfast. Neville looked over at his friend and saw the tell tale signs that he had woken up in the middle of the night from yet another nightmare. He had been plagued with nightmares ever since the battle at the ministry. Harry tried to pretend that he was fine, but everyone that shared a night with him in the room knew he wasn't. Neville had many times woken up from peaceful sleep to hear Harry screaming from a dream.

"I was in the greenhouse…. couldn't sleep," Neville explained quietly, looking away from Harry's piercing green eyes. It wasn't a lie that was where he was, he didn't have to tell them the details.

"Looks like you did more than tended to some plants mate," Ron commented as he affectionately jostled Neville on his bed, "You stink of booze. Had a bit of a night cap, did ya? And without any of us. For shame, Longbottom, and here I thought we were friends."

Neville just groaned and pulled his pillow over his head to drown out Ron's antics, while at the same time, getting away from the light that was threatening to burst his head open.

"Okay mate, we'll leave you alone to wallow in your bad decisions." Neville made an offensive hand gesture towards the red head, not bothering to emerge from the pillow, to which Ron just chuckled at. "Let's go, Harry, I bet Mione is already waiting for us."

"I'll meet you in the common room," Harry replied distractedly. At the same time Neville heard Ron leave, he felt his bed sink with added weight. Frowning, he removed his pillow from his face to see Harry sitting next to him.

"Are you okay, Nev?" Harry asked concerned, his green eyes looking down sadly.

"Yes..." Neville said slowly, unsure of where this was heading.

Harry sat nervously for a moment picking imaginary lint off his knee. "You just... you seem distracted lately... And now you're drinking ...alone... You don't even drink at parties..." Neville could tell the raven haired boy had more to say, so he waited for Harry to continue. "I know last year at the ministry was... it was haunting... And then everything with your parents and having to fight face to face with Bellatrix... I would understand if you were having a difficult time... I know I haven't really been th-"

"Harry, I'm fine," Neville interrupted, not wanting his friend to continue with his line of thinking, "Trust me. Nothing that happened at the ministry is bothering me. I'm actually very proud of what we did there. I finally beginning to feel like I belong in this house."

Harry smiled warmly at his friend, "You always belonged in this house, Nev, remember first year?"

Neville chuckled at the memory of trying to prevent the trio from breaking the rules, "Yeah I do. 'I- I- I'll fight you'." Neville had raised his hands up into fists and mimicking his expression from so many years ago, causing Harry to chuckle as well.

"Yeah, you're fine. Want me to bring you up some toast from breakfast?" Harry asked heading, to the door.

"I don't think I could manage to keep it down honestly," Neville answered, forcing himself up to get dressed. Harry chuckled and exited the dorm, leaving Neville to his own devices.

Neville found his shower to be bitter sweet. On one end, he felt immensely better washing away some of the toxins that had sweat themselves out through the night, but with it went the lingering scent of Graces that had been left on his skin. He smiled thinking about the night before; it was so unreal that just hours ago he had been with her in the most intimate way. He ached to be near her now, to see what would happen. Were they lovers now? He contemplated that for a bit, before deciding that one night didn't make them lovers. He highly doubted that she would be calling herself his girlfriend, but he wondered if maybe, she would act more familiar with him, go on a few dates, etc. He kind of wished he was Zambini, that he could have that sort of relationship with her. He envied that the boy got to know her the way he so craved. She didn't hide her emotions from him and he could tell by the way they were talking that they were close.

Neville walked into the Greenhouse, his mind still on the blonde he was about to meet. He walked over to where their plant was and looked down at the floor from last night. He felt ridiculous smiling like a fool looking down at the floor, but he couldn't help himself. He wondered how he should greet Graces when she got there. Should he kiss her? He wanted to. If she let him, he would kiss her every chance he got. He wouldn't even mind kissing her in the Great Hall for the whole world to see. Ron and Harry would probably throw the biggest fit, but Neville found he didn't care. They didn't know her; they judged her based on Draco. Admittedly, he didn't know her all that well either, but he knew she wasn't a bad person, and he had a real glimpse at her at her rawest, just Graces. She was even more beautiful. He saw her earlier, the real her, and under her mask and through all her complication, he knew there was something wonderful. And he didn't give a damn about what anyone else thought. With that in mind, he decided he was going to kiss her the moment she walked in the greenhouse. He felt silly that he even had to contemplate such a silly action; after all, he had kissed her in the most private of spots mere hours ago, surly kissing her gently on the lips, when there was no one else around, wouldn't bother her.

Finally the greenhouse door opened. Neville straightened smiling widely only to be disappointed as Pansy Parkinson waltzed in with a bored look on her face, before sneering at him.

"Graces won't be coming to help with the assignment, she asked that I come down and do whatever needed to be done," Pansy drawled, looking down her nose at Neville as if being in his presence was the greatest of inconveniences.

"Is… is she okay?" Neville asked concerned.

"That really isn't any of your business, now is it?" Pansy replied coldly, heading over to the plant. "However, I don't want you telling Sprout that she is slacking off as a partner, so yes she isn't feeling well. She should be fine by tomorrow though."

"You don't have to be here. I can take care of the plant," Neville stated, almost tripping on some pots as he hurried after the pug faced girl, "just tell Gr-Malfoy that I hope she feels better."

Pansy raised an eyebrow scrutinously at the awkward boy before her, "Why would you be sending well wishes to a Malfoy?"

The sandy haired boy blushed and rubbed the back of his neck with his hand, "I... well... Why wouldn't I?"

"Because she's a Malfoy." Pansy dead panned and rolled her eyes like it was so obvious.

"Uh... ummm... Love thy enemy?" Neville stated nervously, hoping Pansy would just take it as another Gryffindor nobility thing. He had heard Seamus say it many times to Harry and Ron as they threw fits about Draco. He asked him once what it meant and he just laughed and said it was a catholic thing and then told him about some bloke named Matthew with a book.

"Love thy enemy? Why would anyone love their enemy? I swear, Longbottom, you become more dimwitted as the days go by." And with that Pansy left.

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"Feeling better darling?" Pansy asked, entering the girls' dormitory, taking a seat on Graces bed and beginning to flip through Witches Weekly.

"I am, now that Zambini isn't withholding his hangover potion from me," Graces mumbled bitterly.

"Hmmmm, but he did give it to you," Pansy reminded her, not bothering to look up from the magazine. Graces just rolled her eyes and continued lying in bed. "Are you planning on joining the living, now that you are feeling better?"

"No."

Pansy peered over the magazine for a moment, before idly flipping a page. "And why not?"

"I. Don't. Want. To."

The dark haired Slytherin girl was officially done trying to get her friend out of bed. If she knew one thing about Malfoys, it was that they were as stubborn as Hungarian horntails with a matching temper to boot. "Longbottom said the oddest thing to me," Pansy commented offhandedly.

Graces felt her heart drop to her stomach with panic. "Oh?" she prayed that Neville wasn't dim enough to tell anyone about their escapade the previous night.

"Yeah," Pansy continued half heartedly, more focused on the article detailing that the Screaming Banshees were going to be touring for the summer.

Graces was quickly becoming irritated with her friend's distraction. "And? What did he say?"

"Well, first he told me that he can take care of the plants and then he asked me to tell you that he hopes you feel better," Pansy frowned at the memory of how odd that was, before continuing on, "Then, when I asked why he cares, he was like, 'Love thy enemy?'... Isn't that the oddest thing you have ever heard? I mean, who loves their enemy?"

"That's a muggle saying," Graces answered sitting up, frowning, "it's a religious thing."

"Merlin's beard! Are you telling me that not only is Longbottom, a dirty blood traitor, but now he's into their religion? Do you think it's the same one that says to burn us alive?" Pansy exclaimed.

"How am I supposed to know what Longbottom believes?" Graces asked scowling.

"It was just a rhetorical question, Graces," Pansy said rolling her eyes, "I swear, when you and your brother are in a mood, you look for reasons to bite all of our heads off."

Graces just laid back down and stared up at the ceiling. "Do you think he meant it?"

"Meant what?"

"The muggle phrase… Do you think he really loves his enemies?"

"Probably," the other girl shrugged still reading, "I mean he is a Gryffindor; it sounds like something their lot would buy into."

"You mean something stupid?"

Pansy giggled, "There we go. Now, I know you're feeling better. Want to head down to the common room?"

"No," Graces said quietly, "really Pans, I just want to stay in bed today."

"Okay love, I'll check on you around lunch." And with that the Graces was left alone.

Graces laid there in bed staring at nothing and yet seeing a multitude of images. Neville's soft caring eyes as he entered her, the look on his face after of sheer wonder, she remembered the way his arms held her, the soft kiss on her forehead he gave her as he pulled her into him to sleep, and how stupid she had been to allow any of it.

Sleeping with Neville Longbottom was suicide. She had knowingly put her life at risk, and for what? A few hours of pleasure and comfort, that she knew, very well, nothing could come from after. She had no idea what had possessed her to do such a stupid thing. It wasn't as if she fancied the Gryffindor or anything like that, she did enjoy his company, for reasons she still refused to look into, but none of that, warranted or explained, why she had given herself to him. She wished she could blame it all on the alcohol, but she couldn't. She'd known what she was doing the whole time.

All she had done, in sleeping with Neville Longbottom, was add more problems to her life. Graces groaned and buried her face in her pillow. If anyone found out, her family would be forced to kill her; if they didn't, then the Dark Lord would kill them and her. It would be a kindness if they killed her before the Dark Lord got to her. Sleeping with a blood traitor was as bad as sleeping with a mudblood, and yet, she couldn't find herself disgusted that he had been inside her. She should have, she should have been sickened by the thought that a blood traitor had been spilled his seed inside her, nauseated by the scent of him lingering on his skin, and jaded by the small bite marks on her hips. Yet, she wasn't and that made her disgusted with herself. She was disgusted that she wasn't disgusted that she had slept with a blood traitor. She just wanted to scream, it was all so confusing.

This doesn't NEED to be confusing. It was a mistake and it will never EVER happen again.

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Hope you all enjoyed, please don't forget to review! The next chapter is finished and I'll be posting it as soon as it's edited!