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: As always thank you to my betas ArthurDent2 and Denarii who always manage to set aside time to edit for me even when their schedules are crazy. Also special thanks to Veraani and BlueRose22 for their kind reviews!

Chapter 6

Neville knew the instant he felt a foreign grip on his ankle that he had made a mistake. He had been so concerned about why Graces was upset that he allowed himself to be distracted enough to turn his back on a dangerous plant. He felt the hearty plant rip his feet from the floor, just at the same time it pulled Graces, sending both partners to the ground. Unfortunately for Graces she was facing Neville when the plant pulled her she went backwards and he toppled over her. Neville heard the sickening crack of her head as it hit the corner of a table before it impacted the floor with added force from his weight. He immediately turned to the plant which was still pulling the two students towards it, clutching their legs mercilessly with more of its unruly vines.

"Incendio!" he bellowed, sending the plant into flames and casting an orange glow in the previously dark room.

He looked down at Graces to see if she was alright and felt his blood grow cold as if his insides were being scraped away with a knife. Dark liquid was pooling out from her. Already the platinum blond hair was turning black with the thick coating of blood. The rest of the class was now crowding around murmuring to one another as Professor Sprout pushed through. Neville remained bent over the still form, his eyes frantic with worry. "Graces? Oh gods, Graces wake up. Can you hear me? Professor!"

Professor Sprout was soon bent over the paling girl. "We need to take her to Madam Pomfrey," she whispered urgently, fairly panicked herself, "Neville can you lift her?"

Neville nodded and gently lifted Graces from the floor pulling her close to him. It was so odd for him to once again have her in his arms. He had longed to touch her, hold her close to his chest, feel her head against his neck and caress her skin while whispering sweet nothings to her. And now there he was, holding her close to his chest, with her head being cradled against his neck and shoulder while it bled out, and he continued to whisper reassurances he knew she couldn't hear. Not exactly what he had meant. He supposed that life liked to constantly toy with him.

He and Professor Sprout were about to leave the greenhouse when they heard Graces' slurred mumbling, "Puuet me dow-nnn."

"Graces!" The sandy haired boy instantly felt relief at hearing Graces voice. "Thank Merlin. We're taking you to the hospital wing; it's going to be okay." The blond in his arms seemed to be struggling to say something, and Neville and Madam Pomfrey watched as she willed the next three words out of her mouth.

"Put…. me… down!"

Neville looked down at Graces and was about to protest, but the girl began to desperately and pitifully struggle to get out of his arms.

"Please Graces, calm down. You're not well."

Professor Sprout was watching in horror as Graces struggled in Neville's arms, her head beginning to bleed more. Unsure of what to do she nodded to Neville for him to put her down. Neville slowly placed Graces on her feet leaving his arms around her middle to steady her, gradually moving them away so they were hovering near.

"Graces, please," Neville groaned his insides turning into more and more knots at the sight of Graces bleeding profusely onto the greenhouse floor, trying desperately to be strong when she should be allowing his help. "You're really hurt, just let me take you to the hospital wing."

"Don't say my given name, Longbottom," Graces said breathlessly as she held the table in front of her and closed her eyes to the room spinning around her, "It suggests a familiarity that you and I do not possess."

Clear liquid that was clouded with blood began to flow from Graces nose as she brought a shaking hand to her forehead. Neville looked to the professor to silently ask the question of what was happening and then he felt Graces' weight as she began crumbling to the ground and back into his fortunately ready arms.

This time Neville wasted no time in figuring out what to do; before Professor Sprout could even regain her thoughts he was running out of the greenhouse, heart pounding and ears ringing with adrenaline. He could feel his arms and chest being coated with blood and numerous times he worried about tripping on the slick substance that had now began to drop onto his shoes, but he never stopped. He ignored the stitch in his side as he flew up the stairs, three at a time, before kicking the hospital doors open and shouting for Madam Pomfrey.

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"She has a depressed skull fracture of the occipital, she should never have been moved," Madam Pomfrey muttered to herself, forgetting that Neville was still hovering behind her.

"Is she going to be okay?"

The mediwitch idly wondered why the Longbottom boy looked so distraught over a Malfoy for a brief second, before refocusing all her attention on the girl lying helpless on her table.

"Mr. Longbottom, I think you should wait outside of the curtains until I am done working on Miss Malfoy."

"Is she going to be okay?" Neville asked again desperately.

Madam Pomfrey didn't want to answer that question just yet. Graces was badly injured and a head trauma of this magnitude could easily kill her, or at least cause permanent damage.

"Mr. Longbottom, are you her next of kin?" Neville was silent for a few moments before answering no, sheepishly. "Then you really should not be in this room and furthermore you should not be distracting me from what I am doing at this moment."

The mediwitch knew she was being a bit harsh, but her attention needed to be focused. She made a quick decision to wake the girl. If she was awake, her own magic would try to repair the damage alongside her, but as long as she was passed out like this her magic remained idle under the surface.

"Rennervate!"

Graces awoke in agony, Madam Pomfrey ignored her groans and whimpers and continued to work, she sighed with relief as Graces' magic started to instantly repair her injuries alongside her own magic.

"Miss Malfoy, do you know where you are?"

Graces clearly did not know or care where she was, as she futilely began trying to sit up, Madam Pomfrey had strapped her down, though, so she just wiggled and whimpered against the straps.

"You are in the Hospital wing at Hogwarts. Can you answer some questions?" Madam Pomfrey waited for a response, but all Graces did was clench her eyes more tightly, her breathing hard. Her heart was thumping wildly in her chest. "Graces, please you need to stay with me. Do you understand where you are?"

"Yes," Graces forced through gritted teeth.

"Good. What is your full name?" The mediwitch continued to work on the injuries, she needed Graces awake, and she needed to ensure that there was no brain damage being done as she healed her. The pain that the child was in was only temporary; brain damage, even in the wizarding world, could be permanent.

"Graces Bellatrix Malfoy," she panted.

"And your brother?"

"Draco Araxes Malfoy." Graces was in so much pain, an endless sea of hurt in her head, throbbing heavily. She was drowning in it. Any moment of relief was washed away in an instant with the next wave of agony. They came without mercy, without warning. The only thing she was sure of was that they were going to continue to plunge her into greater depths of this new, dark ocean. She gritted her teeth against it so hard that she was sure that they would crack, but she didn't care. She would welcome any other distraction from the pounding in her head.

"What is your house?" Whoever was speaking sounded so far away. She just wanted fall back into the darkness, back where she was left out of this misery, but the voice was relentless. "What is your house?"

She answered what she hoped was correct, what she prayed was enough to make the voice be quiet and let her go.

"Good. Do you remember what happened?" Graces didn't answer she just whimpered and turned away in response. "Miss Malfoy do you remember?"

Graces was done answering. It was too much, she couldn't hear the voice anymore. She was giving in to her body, allowing the pain to pull her under its depths so it could to drown her and let her feel nothing. She was ready to succumb, why should she care for the voice calling out to her? She would rather be in the dark where there is no pain, just rest.

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Neville was rarely defiant, but he noted that he seemed to have a knack for choosing the correct times to be so. He knew that Madam Pomfrey told him to wait outside the curtains, but he decided if he was just silent, she would never notice him with all her focus on Graces. So he stayed and watched. He watched as Graces fought through what must have been excruciating pain, wanting nothing more than to take it for her. He couldn't stand the sight of her whimpering on the table. She wasn't the kind of person that whimpered. Graces Malfoy was a rock. She stood solid against anything; if she was whimpering from pain then that pain must be incredible. He wondered how she had stood so defiant in the Greenhouse when she was hurting so badly. Even now he could see her struggling to maintain control. He had watched her grit her teeth to keep from calling out and turning away to hide her weaknesses. Something told him that Graces would not want him there, that she wouldn't want anyone to see her like this, but he couldn't leave her. He felt like if he walked out of that room he was abandoning her and he couldn't do that. He would rather face her wrath, if she ever found out he had seen her like this, than leave her alone with a stranger when she was suffering.

He kept his eyes averted from her actual wound, focusing on her face. He had only caught a brief glimpse of the damage done to Graces' skull and it sent more fear into him than Bellatrix Lestrange had at the Ministry. He tried not to think of it, even now, and listened to Graces answering the mediwitch's questions. Surely if she was coherent and answering questions, no matter how weakly, she would live. It turned his stomach inside out to watch her struggle to form the simple words to answer Madam Pomfrey. He watched as her face contorted against the pain and she gritted her teeth and fought. Then suddenly, her face relaxed and the whole room went still before her eyes rolled back into her head and she began thrashing violently against the bed with convulsions. Madam Pomfrey instantly went and held her head down to the side to prevent more damage to her exposed brain, but holding her there with both hands prevented her from giving her any other medical attention.

Neville instantly went and took the mediwitch's place holding Graces head down and placing cloth into her mouth to prevent her from swallowing her tongue.

"You shouldn't be here," Pomfrey scolded, working diligently at the task at hand. Neville noted that she did not ask him to leave so he just continued to whisper reassurances to Graces, while holding her down as firmly as he dared without hurting her.

"She doesn't know you, I couldn't leave her with someone she doesn't know and trust when she was suffering."

"Are you saying the girl trusts you?" Neville didn't need to look at the mediwitch to know she was scoffing and rolling her eyes at the idea.

He didn't answer right away he thought back to the moment before he had taken her, he remembered how she had looked up at him her silver eyes filled with an assortment of emotions, many of which he did not understand, but he remembered distinctly seeing trust somewhere in there. "Yes... she does," he murmured quietly, ignoring the way Madam Pomphrey narrowed her eyes at him before muttering a spell that sent saline on Graces exposed wounds. The seizure stopped instantly and the mediwitch continued to work, even as Graces came back to consciousness.

"Longbottom," Graces groaned feebly as she shut her eyes, "if you don't let go of me I am going to hex you."

Neville closed his eyes as relief flooded through his body like cool water on a hot summer's day. "How will you hex me without a wand?" he teased, too happy to take Graces' threat to heart.

"I'll strangle you then."

Neville chuckled, "You can't. Your limbs are tied to the bed."

Graces frowned and weakly tried to move her hands, finding that what Neville had said was indeed true as her wrists couldn't lift up against the straps. Then she smiled, never opening her eyes."Mmmm didn't know you were so kinky, Longbottom."

Neville blushed red and looked up to see Madam Pomfrey scowling at him. "I think it is best you leave Miss Malfoy in my care, Mr. Longbottom. Everything is under control now, she will be perfectly fine by tomorrow."

Neville, still mortified, merely nodded and avoided the mediwitch's gaze as he slunk out of the hospital wing into the hall.

When Neville stepped out into the corridor, he couldn't have been more surprised by what was in front of him. Draco Malfoy was running, literally running, in a manner completely unfit for the stoic pureblood heir. His hair was mussed up around his face, and his eyes were wide with panic. When he saw Neville emerge from the wing he stopped dead in his tracks almost toppling over. He looked completely terrified and his lips began to tremble, and Neville watched as the proud boy had to catch himself on the nearest wall. He moved his eyes away from Neville and to the door of the Hospital wing.

Neville walked forward and reached out a hand to Draco to clasp his shoulder when he realized he was covered in Graces' blood. Draco's sister's blood had stained his clothes and was still warm on his hands. The sandy haired boy could only imagine what Draco had thought seeing him emerge from the hospital wing like this after the whole school was probably talking about how Graces was hurt in class. No doubt that everyone had elaborated on what happened in the Greenhouse making it sound more gruesome and terrible than it already was.

"Is she... is she-" Draco couldn't seem to finish his sentence and his voice was shaking.

"She's going to be okay."

The relief that washed over Draco was instant; Neville thought that he may still cry from it alone, but he didn't. He pulled himself up and erased the emotions that had been on his face. He couldn't hide it in his eyes, though; his eyes that were so much like his sister's in more ways than just color. He began striding to the door and paused while opening it, speaking over his shoulder to Neville. "If you're lying to me, Longbottom, and she's..." He couldn't even bring himself to say it aloud. "I will kill you."

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Neville, once again, was losing sleep over Graces Malfoy, and this time he wasn't losing sleep imagining her perfect lips on his or her smile that warmed his heart. No matter how hard he tried, every time he closed his eyes he saw her bleeding or seizing. It felt like there were a dozen snakes in his stomach slithering around. He just wanted to see Graces again, make sure she was alright. He was convinced that if he saw her and she was still well in the hospital wing, he would be able to sleep.

So he did the only thing he could think to do that would allow him to keep his sanity; he snuck out of the Gryffindor 6th year boys' room and into the hospital wing. He slowly opened the door to the hospital wing and peered around the wooden opening, looking to see if Madam Pomfrey or any other patients were awake. To his great relief the whole room was empty except for the faint blue glow of the moon and the soft breathing of the only patient in the wing. Neville slowly made his way over to Graces bed side. It was obvious by the flowers and small cards on the side of her bed that she had visitors Apparently, by the looks of it, the whole Slytherin house had visited. Piles of chocolate frogs and candies covered the dresser and small cards littered the area, untouched since she had clearly not woken up. Neville looked at the hand drawn ones, obviously from the younger years, that were not sealed in an envelope.

They had the normal get well greetings written on them, but it was the pictures that Neville was interested in. Most of them had poorly drawn pictures of Graces in what appeared to the Slytherin common room with younger years; in them she was leading lines of first years to the dungeons or helping with homework. One card in particular stood out from the rest, though. It was very well drawn, clearly done by someone who had a great talent in sketching with charcoal, and in it Graces was sitting with a child on her lap clearly giving comfort. Her face was set to still be firm. There was no smile or any obvious warmth, but she was holding the girl close and there was a handkerchief in her hand with the initials GM embroidered in it. Neville stood there looking at all the cards, pondering about what Graces must be like behind closed doors. She clearly was only cold towards those she didn't know or who were not in her own house. Obviously, she was good at being a prefect. In the halls it always seemed like she was stern with the younger years, but Neville supposed that she must be like McGonagall in that she was stern, but also warm in her own way.

He stared at the picture and thought of how much he longed to know the girl sketched in the drawing. He hated how closed off Graces had been with him since their night in the greenhouse. If possible, she had become more distant and stone-faced than she had been previously. It was frustrating beyond words for the Gryffindor boy. He had tried to be friendly in herbology, making small talk and that sort of thing, but Graces would always just ignore him unless he was talking about the project and even then, her words were clipped and didn't allow further conversation. Why couldn't she just talk to him? Give him a chance? What made him so inferior, that he couldn't be allowed the privilege to know her? She had slept with him easy enough, but she wouldn't go out for a simple drink with him? Or at least be friendly towards him as a partner?

He placed the drawing down and looked at the figure lying in the bed. The figure that he could never seem to get off his mind. The figure he had worried himself sick over all day. Graces was sleeping peacefully, there were no signs that she had suffered an injury. Her lips were back to being a pretty shade of pink and her hair was no longer saturated in her blood. For the first time all day, Neville's heart began beating at a regular pace. He hadn't even realized that it had been fluttering wildly in his chest all day with anxiety until that moment.

"You have no idea how frustrating it is to care about you," Neville said quietly, "It's awful. All I wanted was to sit in here today with you and I couldn't. If I had, everyone would wonder why. I honestly wouldn't give a dragon's dung what everyone thought, but I knew that you would be infuriated at the idea of me being by your side. Because, as you so delicately stated, I am not the kind of man you are supposed to end up with..."

Neville was glad Graces was asleep so she couldn't hear the hurt mixed with bitterness in his words."Is it really that awful the idea of being with me? I know I'm not the smartest or handsomest bloke at this school, but is the idea of being seen with me really that heinous? I can understand why you wouldn't want anyone knowing that we slept together, that was private… but you won't even get a drink with me or be friendly towards me when we are alone. You act as though nothing happened, like we never shared anything together... but we did. Sometimes I wish I could be like you and forget everything about that night when you ostracize and insult me, but I can't. When I look at you though, those few moments when you let your guard down, show the least bit of emotion, of yourself, I'm glad I can't. I don't want to. Every moment of the day I think of you, even when I sleep I dream of you.

"I shouldn't think of you, I should think of Hannah. She actually does like me. I have a bloody date with her tomorrow and everything. I am the worst person in the world. Hannah is sweet, kind, pretty and wants my affection, and all I can do is think about how I wish it was you I was going on a date with. I don't even know why I want to go on a date with you. You're not even nice to me unless you're drunk or are suffering a head injury... and even with the head injury you weren't very nice..."

Neville sat exasperated in the open seat by Graces bed and groaned into his hands. "I wish I could tell myself that it was just the sex, that I just lust for you, but I can't. I really like you... I have no idea why, you certainly are not nice to me, but I do. I find myself learning more and more small things about you that make me like you more. I like your smile, your sense of humor. I like that you always sneak a sweet in your mouth after history of magic. You think no one notices, but I do. I like how smart you are, but that you don't throw it in everyone's face like Hermione, and I like that you are always tutoring younger Slytherins in the library on Sunday night. That isn't a prefect's job, but you do it anyways, and despite how it sets us back in class, I find it endearing that you are so awful with plants."

Neville swallowed the sob that had launched itself into his throat. "I was so worried, I thought that you were... it was awful. For more reasons than just one. I couldn't lie to myself anymore and say that I didn't care about you. I care about you, more than I imagined I did. I couldn't even bring myself to leave your side until I heard you were well, and even then I couldn't stop worrying over you."

Neville reached out as if to touch her, but then stopped himself. He wanted to hold her hand to brush the back of his fingers against her soft cheeks, but he knew that if she were awake she wouldn't welcome the touch from him, so he put his hand down and continued to gaze at her sleeping form. Her body slowly moved up and down with her deep breaths, how relaxed she looked without that constant bitter expression stuck on her face, and when she turned over she would emit a small content sigh. It was nice, in a way, that Graces was sleeping, he was free to say what he wanted to her without worry and was free to look at her and not be caught staring.

He spent a good few hours watching her wistfully, memorizing the exact shape of her lips, admiring the color of her hair and trying to remember how soft her skin was. He wished she was awake only so he could look at her eyes. She had so much depth in those pools of quicksilver; as guarded as she was, her eyes often showed brief flickers of her true emotions.

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I hope you all enjoyed the chapter! Make sure to follow/review! Next chapter is Neville's date with Hannah!