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: This chapter is being uploaded before my second beta can review it. It will be reposted with the final editing on Friday, but I did not want to make all of you wait so long again. So ArthurDent2 has already fixed a majority of the punctuation mistakes in here, as well as aided me in areas that needed some fine tuning, and Denarii will finish up editing later when he isn't as busy.
Edit*** This Chapter has now been edited by both of my amazing betas :D Seriously, these guys totally rock for taking the time to edit for me.
Special thanks to Olli, kankananime123, and Phoenix for their reviews! Seriously, you guys rock. BTW Phoenix, I loved your last review! It was practically a whole paragraph! I was pretty stoked when I saw that. Since you don't have an account I couldn't express my gratitude more personally so I thought I would just place it here.
Chapter Nine
Neville woke slowly, stretching his limbs before he opened his eyes. He could feel the water around him moving heavily, thick with the dark mixture of his blood and the antidote. Gradually he let the fog in his head lift so that he could remember all that had happened yesterday. He knew he should be more focused on the fact that Graces almost killed him and brewed a dangerous and illegal potion, but he couldn't seem to think of anything other than the kiss they shared. Did Graces really only kiss him to distract him? It certainly didn't feel that way. At the beginning the kiss was so abrupt and forceful that Neville didn't know what to think of it. In all honesty it could have been mechanical on Graces' part. He was in such a state of shock he wouldn't know, but then, when he sat up and deepened the kiss, he felt her leaning into it.
Neville was becoming more and more aware of Graces' amazing acting skills, but at the same time he could also see them slipping. She could play cold, indifferent, cruel, ruthless, but what she couldn't fake was affection. Affection and warmth were what slipped through the cracks of her mask to reveal who she truly was. Neville did not doubt that she could mechanically kiss a man. It appeared, based off what Nott had said, she had done it often. But was the way she kissed him just an act, just two lips pressed together with no real feeling? The sandy haired boy didn't believe it was. He vividly remembered how, the moment he deepened the kiss and wrapped his arms around her, she had reacted. She had immediately parted her lips, and gently moved her hands so her delicate fingers were entangled in his hair, and she had moved closer into him, even with how tightly he was already holding her. It was as though she still, despite the fact she was so close he could feel her heart hammering against his chest, didn't feel she was close enough to him, like it wasn't enough to assure her he was there. She held to him like she never wanted to let him go and he all too happily would have obliged. Then she suddenly pulled away and stabbed him in the heart like the crazy witch she was.
Neville cautiously put his hand to where the small puncture mark was, he was definitely sore and there would be bruising, but as she had said, he would live. It was amazing how the small puncture mark seemed to be the only visible sign of the night before left on his body. The lacerations that Graces had made all along his arms and legs were perfectly healed, not even the faintest hint of a scar. He idly noted that he felt feverish, but it wasn't a main concern to him over the other things he was feeling. His magic felt… different… like there seemed to be this added foreign presence to it. He could feel the familiarity of his own magic dancing beneath the surface of his skin, almost as though it were dancing with a partner, a very lively partner that seemed to enjoy riling his magic up. He was almost overwhelmed with anxiety to have his own magic acting so animatedly, like a rushing river instead of it's usual gentle, quiet stream.
He decided that he would ask Graces about this, see if it was a side effect of the potion or something. He lifted himself out of the trough, rather clumsily, spilling its contents out onto the floor. The mess made the area around the trough look as though he had been savagely murdered and not saved. He could only imagine what the reaction would be if someone walked in and saw this. Deciding that he would rather that not happen and that he definitely didn't want to spend any longer soaked in his own blood, he searched for his wand, finding it on the floor beside him. He muttered a few spells to clean and dry himself, before cleaning up the mess.
After he finished, a small movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention: Graces. The blonde was lying peacefully in a makeshift bed of hay that was tucked into the corner of the bar, almost hidden away from the rest of the room. As Neville walked over, he was surprised to see that she was using his Gryffindor cloak as a blanket as well as his button up shirt as a nightgown. Not that he minded. In truth the sight warmed something deep in his chest, and the image of Graces sleeping like this in his bed, wearing his clothes from the night before, was almost impossible for him to shake from his mind. Deciding that now was not the time to be fantasizing about such things, Neville turned to look for his trousers and undershirt. He knew Graces had seen everything already, but he still didn't fancy the idea of her waking up to find him in only his boxers. He found his undershirt hanging on a stall door next to Graces' damp clothes, but his trousers were still no where to be found. He was just about to accio his trousers over to him when Graces shifted in her sleep, revealing them under her head. Neville sighed, knowing that he was in no way, shape or form smooth enough to remove the article of clothing without waking the blonde. Feeling incredibly awkward, he went over to where Graces was sleeping soundly and gently nudged her shoulder.
"Five more minutes, Pans," she pleaded sleepily, turning her face away.
"Umm, it's not Parkinson," Neville mumbled, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. Graces drowsily rolled over and slowly, as realization began to dawn in her eyes, she sat up. The first thing Neville noticed was how Graces swam in his shirt, it was far too big on her small frame. Even so, she had neglected to button the upper half, leaving her elegant collarbone and humble cleavage exposed. The only thing keeping Neville from seeing through the white collared shirt was her long hair flowing out over her breasts. Despite the situation, Neville could feel his heart immediately begin to race and his mouth go dry as he noticed the fine shape and contours of her breasts gently lifting the shirt up enough to peer down from where he stood. Graces, upon noticing his stares, pulled his cloak up to cover herself more discreetly. Neville blushed, and quickly looked away although it was far too late. "Sorry, I well, umm—"
"It's fine," Graces interjected quietly, looking down at her knees under the cloak. "Nothing you haven't seen before." This time when she made the comment there was no humor with it.
"So, umm, you're wearing my clothes," Neville pointed out awkwardly, wondering why Graces was not in her own clothes.
Graces blushed and started playing with a piece of her hair. "Yeah, well mine were so wet and yours were dry. I pulled them off you before putting you in the trough, so it made sense for me to just wear yours."
"You didn't want to use a drying spell?" Neville questioned, still perplexed as to why she had chosen to wear his shirt.
Graces frowned and looked up puzzledly. "I... I thought you would have noticed, my magic must be so different than your own." The sandy haired boy just stared at the girl below him. "You didn't notice the numbers and runes on the floor?" Neville looked down, as she had said, symbols were etched all along the floor. He should have noticed all of it when he came out of the trough, but the blood and the fact that they were so finely sketched, must have prevented him from seeing them.
"I never took Arithmancy or advanced Ancient Runes… if that is what this all is. Either way, I don't know what this all means."
Graces nodded and bit down on her lower lip. She hesitated before saying, "I gave you my magic." Neville's eyes widened in horror. "Temporarily, of course, you will have to give it back, but I gave it to you to help your body heal faster. The poison had gotten to your heart. While I stopped it from killing you, you still would have been very weak and sick for days possibly weeks. With my magic and yours working together though you will only be sick with a fever for a few days, but judging by how much healthier you look today, not even that."
Neville stared in disbelief at the girl before him. Graces Malfoy had given him her magic. He was feeling her magic dancing inside of him right now. Every time he turned the thought over in his head he still couldn't believe it. It made no sense. He knew how purebloods felt about their magic, nothing was more important, not even their heritage. Most pureblood witches and wizards held the belief that your life was not worth living if you were unable to do magic, so to give it to someone and trust that they would return it was a giant act of faith. An act of faith that even non-pureblood members of their society may not have been able to do. And Graces had done it, not to save his life which was already saved, but to save him from the discomfort of being bedridden.
"You... you will give it back? Won't you?" Graces asked, in an uncharacteristically small frightened voice, looking up at him.
"Yes, of course," Neville reassured, dropping down to his knees to be eye level with her. The relief in Graces face was almost immediate. "Just tell me how."
"Put your hands above mine so that our palms are facing. As long as you will it to come back to me, it will go. It belongs to me, and I belong to it; we belong to one another, it will come back willingly." Neville did as he was told. He placed his palms above her outstretched, up-facing ones and concentrated only on giving her back her magic. He felt a strange pulling sensation in his hands, as if something were being dragged out from his fingertips and the center of his palm and his whole body tingled, but there was no visible sign of anything being passed on from him to Graces. It was odd feeling magic leave his palms in such a manner. He could feel Graces' magic swirling inside him as though deciding to be extra flamboyant with its exit. He then looked up and noticed how tired Graces looked. She seemed as though she had not slept in months, much like Remus Lupin would look, but as her magic flowed back into her she began to appear healthier. Neville knew it wasn't that she needed her magic to look healthy; squibs didn't have magic and still looked well. He realized that Graces' magic must have been working to keep her healthy. Meaning that she wasn't healthy to begin with, even now he could see that she needed a good night's rest. She looked exhausted.
When the last of her magic had left him, he watched as she gave a content smile, her eyes closed as though she was basking in the sensation.
"Your magic is so different from mine," Neville commented, a small bashful smile playing on his lips.
Graces opened her silver orbs and smiled wickedly at him. "More powerful?"
Neville chuckled, "Yes it is, but it's more than that its, I don't know, playful? No, something like that but different it's..."
"Wild," Graces offered, helpfully a smirk settled on her face.
"Yes! That's it: wild." The sandy haired boy stared at her waiting for her to say more.
"Dark isn't evil, Longbottom, it's wild. You can't tame it, I think that is why light wizards are so scared of it. It's wild and free, it demands and tempts, and it's wonderful in so many ways. "
"So you have declared dark?" Neville asked.
Graces smiled, "Of course. I am a Malfoy after all. I suppose you have already declared light?"
Neville smiled, "I'm a Longbottom after all."
"And the heir," Graces added.
Neville nodded, it was easy for him to forget how important that was to purebloods. In Gryffindor no one really thought much of it, but Graces obviously made note of it when thinking of him. Neville Longbottom: pureblood son of Frank and Alice Longbottom, declared family of light, heir to the Longbottom clan, and known blood traitor. He suspected that the requirements given to her for choosing a husband were that he had to be a pureblood, had to be the heir, and had to be loyal to blood lines. To Neville none of those things mattered, and yet, in her world they were everything. He thought in such a different way when thinking about people. For instance Hermione was smart, nosy, fierce, compassionate and incredibly brave. Graces would say she was a Gryffindor and a muggleborn.
"I wonder what yours feels like," Graces said airily, more to herself than the boy sitting by her.
"Well, thanks to your Ancient Rune skills you can find out."
"What? You can't be serious," Graces voiced scandalized.
"Why not?"
"I could steal your magic and leave you to be a squib for the rest of your life!"
Neville chuckled at how offended Graces was on his behalf. "You wouldn't do that. Would the runes allow us to do it again?"
"Yes, but—"
"Really, I want to."
Graces bit her lip but eventually nodded. Neville wondered if her magic was singing in her body demanding to be near his; he knew his was. He almost felt giddy at the prospect of his magic mingling with hers again. Even if he wouldn't be the one to feel it, he knew that he would feel content after. Also he wanted to see if Graces experienced anything like he had.
A few moments after his magic went into her Graces eyes widened. "That's different." Neville waited patiently wondering if she was meaning good different or bad. "Yours is so... gentle."
"Gentle?"
"Yeah, gentle. Oddly comforting." Graces was biting her lip deep in thought, she let out a small giggle. "My magic is just teasing yours."
"Teasing?" Neville exclaimed, "I should have known a Malfoy's magic would taunt mine." He couldn't help but grin warmly at Graces though.
Graces just continued to laugh. "Not maliciously, just playfully. It seems mine wants to rile yours up; your magic is a lot more powerful when it is riled up. You're a lot more powerful than people think." Graces gave Neville a devious smile, before continuing. "Maybe you just need to be riled up in the right way more often."
Neville sat enchanted by the girl in front of him. He liked that she was enjoying his magic flowing through hers as much he enjoyed hers in him. He could spend the rest of his life as a squib if it meant that he could watch her giggling and smiling like this. And the best part would be knowing that he made her that happy.
"Yeah I noticed that, looks like your magic has a bit of a crush on mine," Neville teased, smirking.
Graces smile faded, "It does not," she denied defiantly, her cold gray eyes boring into Neville. There was an uncomfortable silence for a while where all Neville could hear was Graces' and his breathing. After a moment she shook her head and closed her eyes as though trying to gain back her temper. "Here, I need to give it back to you. You're not well; you need your magic."
Neville nodded and accepted his own magic back. He was a little thrown off by the sudden turn in Graces' attitude, but didn't want to press her. Something told him that if he pressed Graces he would get pushed.
Graces made a noise as though clearing her throat to get Neville's attention. When he looked at her she was standing his cloak wrapped around her. "I need to change."
Neville blushed and awkwardly stood up grabbing his trousers from the hay. He fumbled a bit putting them on trying to hurry, now suddenly remembering he was just in boxers and then turned and faced the wall.
"Don't peek!" He heard Graces call. He nodded and was glad that he was facing away from the girl because he couldn't help from smiling and rolling his eyes. He understood that she didn't want him to see her dress, but it was so odd after he had already seen her. All of her for that matter. Not to mentioned touched and—
"Okay, I'm decent." He turned around and took his shirt buttoning it up all the way, but not tucking it in. Graces looked fully dressed as though she were going to go to classes. "You should head to the hospital wing now. You still have a fever and you need the rest."
"I could say the same for you," Neville said, looking down at her.
"I'm fine. I'm used to not getting a lot of sleep."
"Still, I felt your magic, it's exhausted. Magical exhaustion can be dangerous."
"I'm fine," Graces said coldly, going back to her normal demeanor towards him.
Neville could feel his frustration beginning to boil. "Listen, if you don't go to the hospital wing and at least have Madam Pomfrey check you out, then I will not go."
"Don't be stupid! You almost died last night. You have to go."
"And you worked yourself to the bone and didn't have your magic to help you heal. I'm not budging on this."
Graces glared up at him, and Neville noted how much she could look like her father. He admittedly was uncomfortable with the glare, but continued to stand his ground and trying not flinch.
"Fine," Graces agreed curtly, turning away from him. "I will come, but after breakfast. I don't want us showing up at the same time. It would look suspicious. Go to the hospital wing now, tell Madam Pomfrey you just have a fever, and get some rest."
"How do I know you will come?" Neville asked skeptically.
"I'll come."
"I'm just supposed to take your word on this?"
"Yes, you are!" Graces spat, turning around. "Have I given you any reason to doubt my word?" Neville growled but shook his head. "Great, then I will see you after breakfast."
"Why can't you just go now?" Neville asked again, the more he looked at Graces the more he realized how unwell she was. She must have been putting glamours on her eyes to hide the bags and redness that gave away her lack of sleep, there was no way that she looked this tired from only missing one night's rest.
"BECAUSE MY BROTHER WILL WORRY!" she shrieked, losing her temper. Graces put her face in her hands for a moment, clearly disgusted with herself for losing her composure. When she looked up, she swallowed hard and did her best to try and regain herself. Her voice sounded frail as if she were about to cry from frustration and exhaustion. "He'll worry. I just need to go to breakfast and tell him I am going to the hospital wing. If I don't, and he finds out I am there, he will skip classes and come storming in demanding to know what is going on."
Neville nodded and let her leave the barn. He waited a few moments, vanished all the tell-tale signs that they had been there and then proceeded to the hospital wing.
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Neville sat in the hospital bed growing more and more impatient as every second ticked by. Pomfrey had checked his vitals, given him a potion, talked to him a bit about how his gran was doing, taken care of four first years who had nasty jinxes that caused boils to appear on their bums and sent them on their way, and Graces still had not shown. He was beginning to lose hope that she would show at all when the hospital wing doors opened and Graces came gliding through over to where Madam Pomfrey was sitting at her desk.
"Miss Malfoy," Madam Pomfrey greeted, a bit surprised, "You're not having headaches are you?"
Graces smiled sweetly revealing her perfect teeth, "Oh no, nothing like that, Madam Pomfrey, I was just hoping you could give me a pepper up potion for today."
I'm going to kill her! Neville thought leaning forward in his bed and staring at Graces incredulously. It was then that he realized Graces had only given her word that she would go to the hospital wing; she never said she would rest. I should have known this would happen. She is a Slytherin.
"Pepper Up potion," the mediwitch repeated slowly, her eyes fixated on Graces, "and why do you need Pepper Up potion, Miss Malfoy?"
"Oh, you know, I've just been so busy lately with prefect's duties, school work, being on the Slytherin quidditch team, choir and, of course, tutoring the younger years. I just feel a bit fatigued."
Madam Pomfrey sat back in her chair, her elbows sitting on the armrest of her seat while her hands played with her wand in front of her chest. "That would all still allow you adequate amount of time to sleep at night. Furthermore, your glamour isn't fooling me, Miss. Malfoy, I can see the bags under your eyes, and considering that you are a powerful witch you must be more than a bit fatigued for your magic to not be giving an affective glamour charm."
Graces stopped smiling and up turned her chin. "My magic is fine."
Pomfrey stood up and came to stand in front of the blond, Graces just stood there unflinching with her perfect posture palms folded in front of her dignity. A perfect image of a pure blood witch. Pomfrey eyed her for a moment before waving her wand and taking off the glamour and then casting a diagnostic spell. Graces did not move, but her eyes were seething with fury.
"My gods, child," Pomfrey whispered, looking at the diagnosis. "You can't have had a good night's sleep in months. Your magic is seriously exhausted, and this kind of exhaustion doesn't come from normal everyday use, what were you doing last night?"
Graces gave a predatory smile. "Why, Madam Pomfrey, you gave me the birth control potion. What do you think I've been doing at all hours of the night?"
Neville had never seen Madam Pomfrey look so feral, he had heard that she used to duel, but it was hard to believe that she was a dueler when she was constantly fussing over every scrape and bruise that a child came in with. Now, though, he could see the ferocity in her eyes.
"That does not explain the magical exhaustion," she countered tightly, in a way that told Graces that she did not believe her excuse.
"What can I say?" Graces shrugged, "I like it rough; I have to put all my magic in my limbs. That's hours of hard work, sometimes whole nights."
"Then why is it I have yet to see your partner in here suffering from magical exhaustion?" The mediwitch challenged, pointing out the flaws in Graces' story.
"You know young boys. Takes a lot to wear them out."
"I know who you have been with, Miss Malfoy," Pomfrey said, looking over at Neville for a brief moment and causing Graces' mask to slip.
"How could you possibly know?" Graces asked, trying to be more composed and ignoring Neville.
"Two files of Hogwarts students were updated to sexually active at the same time, it's obvious. Now, I am not going to say anything to anyone, patient confidentiality in consideration, but I know that you are lying right now."
Graces took a step forward so that she was nose to nose with the mediwitch smirking devilishly, "You don't know know; you're assuming. This other boy and I could have both just had sex with two people who were already sexually active at the same time. And even if you were right, which you are not, you know what they say about those quiet ones."
Pomfrey, obviously done playing games with Graces, turned to Neville. "Mr. Longbottom, have you entered a sexual relationship with Miss Malfoy?"
Graces mouth dropped open and she looked over at Neville and said without a word that he better keep his mouth shut.
"What?" Neville squeaked, immediately clearing his throat in embarrassment. "No, of... of course not, me and Malfoy? No, I mean look at her and look at me. And... well, umm, no. No, I have not."
Graces smacked her palm to her forehead and was muttering obscenities to herself, as the mediwitch just smiled fondly over at the Gryffindor. "You're a terrible liar, Neville." She then turned to Graces and sighed, "Go lay down in a hospital bed, Miss Malfoy, preferably one away from Mr. Longbottom. I think a full day of rest will do wonders. I will give you a potion to help your magic." Graces went over to the far side of the ward and shut the curtains around her, even though it was just Neville and Pomfrey there. Neville felt a bit put out that she didn't even send him a glance, but he dismissed it and watched as Pomfrey fixed the potion for Graces.
"Madam Pomfrey," he began timidly, which caused the mediwitch to pause her work and look over at him an eyebrow raised. "I well… I just wanted to say… that... umm… I never… well I never was… rough with her. And we only did it once. She… uh well… she seems to think it was a mistake." Neville said the last one quietly and Pomfrey could hear the hurt in his voice.
Neville was playing with a piece of imaginary lint on the bed and looking down at the white blanket as if it were the most fascinating thing in the world. He felt the bed dip and saw the mediwitch sitting beside him. "I know you weren't rough with her, Neville," she comforted, "Miss. Malfoy is a complicated creature to say the least, but I don't think she regrets what you two did for the reasons you think she does."
"She said I'm not the kind of man she is supposed to end up with," Neville confided, still looking down.
"According to her parents, and what she has been raised to believe, you're not. Your gran would agree that she is not the type of girl you should end up with as well. I can tell you have feelings for her, but unfortunately circumstances will make any relationship you two tried for to be filled with pain and having to choose between the people you love. I think Miss Malfoy is right in that you two should stay away from a romantic relationship together."
"She's not a bad person. She's a really lovely person once she lets her guard down."
"I do not doubt that, Neville, I am sure she is wonderful, but I know she loves her family and I can't see her betraying them." Madam Pomfrey gently hugged the heart torn boy and then left him to think of what she said.
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Madam Pomfrey entered into the curtained area where Graces was lying down. Her arms were folded across her chest and she was staring forward refusing to acknowledge the mediwitch's presence. Pomfrey pretended not to notice the young Malfoy's foul mood. In all honesty she didn't expect anything else from her. Graces Malfoy would not be an easy patient, she would not tell her why she wasn't sleeping and there would be no thanks for making her well again. The mediwitch didn't mind, though, as long as she did get well. She did, however, want to talk to the girl.
"So, Neville Longbottom... can't say I saw that coming," Pomfrey commented airily, as though she were discussing the weather and not a student's sex life. She glanced up from the try to see Graces just staring at her with great loathing. She just continued her work preparing the medication as if she had not noticed. "Not to say Neville isn't a handsome lad, he seems to be growing into his looks, but still never thought I would live to see the day when a Malfoy was getting along with a Longbottom or any light wizarding family for that matter, let alone be sleeping with one."
This time when she turned around Graces was sitting up in bed, her silver eyes watching Pomfrey as though she were a dangerous animal that needed to be put down. Her face was devoid of emotion, but her eyes were alight with a fierce fire that would have made the mediwitch flinch if she had not known how severely weak the girl was at the moment. She handed Graces the potion with a chiding smile, the patient took it, her eyes never moving off her. Pomfrey turned to leave.
"That will help your magic, but you need sleep as well. I suggest you take the day to rest and I better not see you sneaking over to Longbottom. Don't want you more worn out, especially since Mr. Longbottom can be so rough, as you say."
"Wait." The mediwitch turned at hearing Graces voice, a bit surprised that the girl was not going to continue to ignore her. She did want to get a rise out of her, but she knew that getting a rise out of a pure blood witch especially a Malfoy took more effort than this. Graces seemed a bit unsure of what she was going to say, she didn't look mad, she seemed more uncomfortable than anything. "Longbottom was never… rough with me. I didn't realize that you… knew who it was. He wasn't rough."
Pomfrey sighed, "Miss. Malfoy, I am well aware that Mr. Longbottom was not rough with you." The girl just nodded, seemingly satisfied with the answer. "I am curious though how you two ended up in such a situation though."
"That is private," Graces said coldly, going back to her frigid demeanor. Pomfrey decided that now was the time to leave.
"Get some rest, Miss Malfoy."
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Everything was dark. Graces listened to the echo of her feet as she walked in the darkness. She was looking for someone or something, she didn't really know. She just knew that she needed to be found or she needed to find. There were no walls, no ground even, just darkness. Darkness that she couldn't even hide in; it was the type of darkness that offered no protection from others' eyes. She could see long pale hair tied back in a low ponytail.
"Father!" she exclaimed in relief. Father would know what she was looking for or maybe he was what she was looking for. "Father! Father!" Lucius did not turn to her so she began running, "Dad! Dad!" She ran faster, the air in her lungs starting to burn, but she pushed through it. Her father was here, he would know what to do. He would save her from whatever was lurking in the darkness. She ran and ran and realized with horror that no matter how fast she ran the unmoving figure didn't come any closer to her. "Dad!" she screamed stopping, "Dad, please look at me! Dad, try to come to me!" The figure then turned and she looked at her father's face.
The once handsome man looked haggard, his elegant robes that he usually wore were dirty and he had shackles on his wrists. "Daddy?" Graces whimpered. The blond man just shook his head sadly and turned away. As if saying 'No, I can't help you. I can't be your Daddy now'.
Graces sobbed and turned away from her father, unsure of what to do. He was out of her reach; she couldn't help him. 'Mother will know what to do,' she thought. She turned and immediately knocked into her mother.
"Mum!" she exclaimed, grabbing hold of her waist as though she needed to feel her to believe her real. "Father needs help."
Her mother lifted her chin and met her silver eyes with her blue ones. "There is no help for your father, child." Graces took a step back. Her mother stood there before her, but she was just a shell. There was no fierceness to her eyes, no unspoken dignity to her stance, she looked… broken.
"Mum?" Narcissa Malfoy just closed her eyes and her mouth was moving as though words should be coming out, but no words came. There was nothing. "Mummy? What do I do?" Narcissa's eyes opened and her mouth continued to move, but no advice was offered. Graces tried to tell her she couldn't hear her, tried to get her to understand that no noise was coming, but her mother just continued on.
"PLEASE LISTEN TO ME! WHAT DO WE DO? WHAT CAN WE DO?"
"Don't you see, my child?" Narcissa said, suddenly loud and clear. "We can do nothing, it is up to Draco. Our fate is in Draco's hands."
In a blur of colors Narcissa was now gone and the image before her was Draco kneeling before the Dark Lord, his arm held out in front of him in offering to take the dark mark. Graces moved to be near her brother, to stop him from making the mistakes of their father, when a hard hand grabbed her shoulder. She turned to fight off whoever dared to touch her and there stood her Aunt Bellatrix.
"This is an honor, child; your brother has been given a great task. This is what our family needs to be back on top. Why do you look so frightened? Be proud of your brother!"
"No!" Graces shouted, pulling herself away from her aunt. "NO! Not Draco! He'll die! He can't defeat him!"
Bellatrix had a dreamy smile on her face, "To die in the service of our Lord is such an honor."
"NO!" Graces turned and began running towards Draco. The scene had changed again and he was dueling with Dumbledore, but the twinkle eyed headmaster was no longer looking so meek and kind. He was dueling furiously using spells that would injure, maim, and kill. "Draco! Draco!" Draco did not hear her, he was struggling just to keep moving away from the spells. "DRACO! DRACO!" Graces was now running forward, she could see Dumbledore was about to use the killing curse and she leaped into her brother's arms as the flash of green light came.
Yet, she wasn't dead. She opened her eyes and Draco was holding her tightly on the ground. "It will be okay, Graces, just close your eyes. Go stand by mum." She turned around and Voldemort was standing before her brother and her. "Go."
Graces didn't go, instead she held tightly to Draco.
"Draco, Draco, you disappoint me," the Dark Lord tutted, "I give you one task, one chance to prove yourself to me, to save your family, and you failed. And you know how I feel about failure."
Graces looked at her brother, his jaw was set and his eyes were alive with knowledge. "Go to mum, Graces. Close your eyes."
"No, no, no, no," Graces whispered, "I won't leave you. Together we came, together we will leave."
"How sweet," the Dark Lord chided, "but we have other plans for you, Miss. Malfoy." Abruptly arms were around her trying to pull her away from Draco.
"DRACO! DRACO!" She struggled and fought against the arms, still holding tightly to her brother's chest, but he was no longer holding her. Draco accepted his fate, his defeat, his death. A strong pull loosened her grip and she was holding her brother's arm while it just dangled limply. "DRACO! NO, PLEASE, PLEASE, NOT DRACO, PLEASE! NOT MY BROTHER, NOT DRACO!" Tears were swimming down her face as she clung to her brother's arm. He wouldn't even look at her; she was staring at Voldemort, begging him now. "PLEASE! I'LL DO ANYTHING, NOT DRACO, PLEASE!"
"I have other ways of making you do what I want," the Dark Lord alluded, with a sickening smile. A final pull took her away from her brother and Fenrir Greyback was on top of her holding her shoulders down. She struggled harder against the weight, pulling all her magic in her limbs as she kicked and scratched against the force keeping her away from her brother.
"It is an honor to die at the hands of our Lord," her aunt proclaimed, smiling at Voldemort. "Your brother could have been killed by a follower of his, but he chose to kill him himself. Such an honor."
"NO!" Graces wailed, seeing Voldemort lift his wand for the finale, her brother's bloody limp body in front of him. "GET OFF ME! GET OFF ME! DRACO! DRACO! KILL ME INSTEAD! DRACO, DRACO, DRACO!"
Then, with a flash of green light, she knew it was over, her brother was gone. She cried out, angry tears running down her face and let Greyback hold her down, no longer caring to fight him. "You're all alone now," he whispered in her ear ,"No daddy or big brother to protect you anymore. You're ours."
She didn't dignify that with a response, he brother was dead, why should she care anymore about anything? She mumbled his name again and again as though saying it would bring him closer to her. As though this wasn't real, like it was a—
"—dream. Wake up, child, it's just a bad dream." Graces woke to see the mediwitch straddling her in her hospital bed. Madam Pomfrey's hair had come loose around her face and there was a deep scratch mark going down her cheek to her neck. She was still holding her down, her arms firmly over her shoulders and Neville was holding her legs his nose bloody and a large bruise forming on his cheek and under his eyes.
Slowly, the mediwitch let go of her arms and moved to get off the bed. Neville followed suit soon after. Graces sat up still shaking from head to toe and drenched in sweat. She could feel it dripping down her face onto her chest and her hair was wet against her neck and cheeks. Her clothes were clinging to her moist body and all she wanted to do was curl up into herself.
"Oh, sweetheart," Pomfrey said gently, placing a cold towel on her neck to cool her down, "nightmares. Why didn't you say something?" Graces pulled her knees up under her chin and looked straight ahead at nothing. She didn't want this. She didn't need pity. "I can give you dreamless sleep potion for awhile and—"
"No, you can't." Graces clipped, "I used it all summer."
"You became addicted; couldn't sleep without it?" the mediwitch asked slowly. Graces just nodded in reply. "And now you sleep, but still have the nightmares?" Graces nodded again. Pomfrey sat next to her and put out a hand to clasp her shoulder, but Graces moved away sharply. The mediwitch just nodded sadly. "I am giving you dreamless sleep, it's far worse for you to not be sleeping and having such violent night terrors than to be addicted to a sleeping medication. I will work in the mean time on finding something else to give you, but for this week at least you may take the potion." Graces just nodded again. "How do your housemates sleep?"
"I put silencing charms on my bed curtains and lock them," Graces stated mutely.
Pomfrey nodded and left the room to fetch the potion; it was then that Neville stepped forward and sat on the bed next to her.
Graces looked over at his bloody face and grimaced. "Did I do that?" she asked, a ball in her throat welling up.
"This?" Neville asked, gesturing to his face a warm smile on his lips. "Naw, I got this battling a right foot."
Graces didn't accept the humor, instead it just made the lump in her throat grow so large she felt as though she were choking on it. "Was it my right foot?" she asked hoarsely. She felt Neville's arms reach out to hold her around her shoulders and she knew that he would bring her into his chest if she let him and from there he would hold her close and it would feel so warm, so inviting, so safe and she would cry. She would cry endlessly and cling to him nuzzling her nose in his neck to hide her face, but allowing him to feel her tears. She would cry so hard she would have to gasp for breath and he would just hold her and comfort her and whisper nonsensical words in her ear to make her feel better. He would see her in all her raw agony and her weaknesses would be exposed. And if she was honest with herself, what really scared her the most about that scenario wasn't that she would be exposed to Neville, it was that she was okay with being exposed to him.
So she turned away and jumped off the bed standing in the corner of the curtains. "I don't need your pity."
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Neville sat abandoned on the hospital bed and Graces glared at him. "I don't—"
"Yes. You. Do. I can see it in your eyes." The sandy haired boy watched as she backed farther away from him. She reminded him of a dangerous animal that was cornered, she looked like she wanted to run away and fight all at once.
"Maybe I do," he contended quietly, "is that so awful that I have empathy for you? That I want to help you in any way I can."
Graces set her jaw and narrowed her eyes. "Yes."
"Why?" Neville implored, standing up and taking a step close to her causing the girl to move so that she was against the curtains.
"You know why."
"No, I don't," Neville insisted, moving closer so that he was near enough to touch her. Then the curtains opened and when he turned, expecting to see Pomfrey, he saw Hannah.
"Oh! I'm sorry," Hannah apologized, looking confused "I just… I heard you were sick and I thought I'd visit. It looked like this was the only bed occupied cause the curtains and…" Hannah then frowned and looked at Graces "What is she doing here anyways?"
Neville moved in front of Graces; he didn't want anyone to see her like this. He knew she didn't want to be seen sweaty and shaking looking this tired and frightened.
"She's sick too." Neville stated unsure of what else to say.
"Yes, but why are you two in here together?" Hannah was now frowning as though the thought of having to spend any time with Graces was awful. "Merlin's beard, Nev, what happened to your face?"
"WILL YOU JUST LEAVE!" Graces shouted, causing Neville to wince as the sound penetrated inside his ear.
"I don't take orders from you Malfoy," Hannah quipped, sticking her chin up.
"Hannah," Neville pleaded quietly, "please, I think it would be best if you left."
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Hannah could not believe that Neville wanted her to leave. It was unthinkable. "Neville, don't you want me here?"
She watched as Neville's eyes looked towards her and then looked behind him at Graces. "No, I uh… this isn't a good time, Hannah. I appreciate that you are here, of course, but I well…"
"We're very sick," Graces elaborated coldly, "quarantined together."
Hannah looked around the room. "With only one bed?"
"Are you a half brain as well as a half blood?" Graces spat impatiently, "Of course there is another bed, Pomfrey is getting it. Longbottom here bled all over the first one. Now get out."
Hannah could feel her rage building inside of her, how dare she call her that and how dare Neville let her. She looked over at Neville to see what he was going to do. They were dating after all, possibly past dating after that kiss, he should be defending her right now. Neville was just standing there though looking torn about what to do.
"Neville!" Hannah cried, "Are you going to let her talk to me like that?!"
Neville ran a hand through his hair, "Hannah, she's really sick and so am I for that matter. I'm sure she doesn't mean it; she's just upset and sick."
"Neville, stop being so damn understanding for her! I know that you're a nice guy and always try to see the best in people, but will you stop for one moment and just care about how she is talking to me!"
Neville then turned to face Graces and said with no real scolding, "Malfoy, please don't insult my friend." Hannah watched as he then turned back to her an annoyed look on his face. "There better?"
"No! It's not!"
"I'm sorry, Hannah, but what exactly would you want me to do?"
"I can't believe I have to even tell you this!" Hannah was now beyond pissed. "Yell at her! Hex her hair off! Something!"
Neville had the audacity to stare at her as though she was the one that had done something wrong. He moved so that his body was covering Graces more, his back pressed against her and his stance was in a way that told Hannah that if she reached for her wand he would grab at his own against her.
"I am not going to do that, Hannah. She's sick and she has asked you to leave. We both have asked you to leave, I'm not happy about what she said to you, but you're not respecting her either."
Hannah did not know what to think of what Neville was doing. First there was how he acted towards her on their date and now this. Not to mention the odd questioning after the first day of herbology. The Malfoys caused him nothing but misery, why was he protecting her?
"Miss Abbot?" Hannah turned and saw Madam Pomfrey enter. "What are you doing here?"
"I came to see Neville," Hannah said, eyeing the boy in front of her. "I heard he was sick."
"Yes he is," Pomfrey said sternly, "and he and Miss Malfoy do not need visitors in their state. You should leave before you get sick."
"I may already be sick," Hannah said, looking at the mediwitch. "If what they have is extremely contagious I could be sick now. We've been spending a lot of time together and we uh well... we were kissing the other night."
Madam Pomfrey looked over and Neville and gave him a look that made Hannah frown and Neville look down at his shoes obviously deeply ashamed. "I highly doubt you have caught anything, Miss Abbot, you would have shown symptoms of it by now. One of the symptoms being a lack of common sense and tact."
Neville flushed a deep red and Hannah nodded her head and left. She wondered what Neville had, but if it did cause symptoms like Madam Pomfrey said then that explained Neville's odd behavior.
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As soon as Hannah left Madam Pomfrey had rounded on him pulled him out of Graces room and placed him on his own bed. "Neville Alastar Longbottom, I expected better from you." Neville nodded and looked down. It did seem bad; him going from sleeping with Graces Malfoy to kissing Hannah Abbott. "What do you have to say for yourself?"
Neville looked up opened his mouth and then just closed it. "I.. she... she said it was a mistake and... Hannah asked me out... then she yeah and I didn't want to be rude so I... went with it... But I haven't kissed her since then, honestly I didn't even kiss her back then… not that it matters…they both think I did."
"And Miss Malfoy?"
Neville blushed, "Well umm... she sort of... umm kissed me the other night... but just to distract me and—"
"Distract you? Why was Miss Malfoy distracting you?"
Neville realized with panic that he almost gave away what had happened the night before. "Nothing, I didn't mean distract I meant... well."
Madam Pomfrey held up her hand to silence him before he could go any further. She closed her eyes in frustration and took several deep breathes, "You know Neville, I don't want to know. Something tells me I do not. Want. To. Know."
"Can... can I speak to Graces before you give her that potion?"
Pomfrey looked down at the boy she had been taking care of for the last six years, "No, Miss Malfoy I think has had enough excitement for one day. I need to talk to her privately before she takes the potion and I don't want her up any longer than she has to be."
Neville couldn't hide the disappointment on his face. He wanted to beg and plead with Pomfrey to let him see her, but he knew that once she made the decision of no visitors the point was moot. He nodded and decided that he could talk to Graces later; she did owe him a life debt so they would be spending plenty of alone time working on potions together. He would tell her then that Hannah wasn't his girlfriend he would convince her that he cared about her and hopefully she would stop being so stubborn and at least let him care.
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Graces was lost in a sea of confusion. Neville had been protective of her. He protected her from his friend and not in a passive way. Also, he had kept what happened between them the other night a secret to protect her as well. It was hard for her to accept though, why would Neville Longbottom want to protect her? She was a Malfoy. Not only had her family never been on good terms with his, not only had her Aunt and father tried to kill him last year as well were directly responsible for leaving him without parents, but she wasn't nice to him either. She had never once tried to be nice to Neville; she never stopped her brother from mocking him or stopped him and his friends for beating the tar out of him. There was no reason for him to be protective of her. Yes, she could understand why he personally never felt the need to do any harm to her; she had never directly done harm to him, if one did not count the night before, but still to be protective of her, and to want to comfort her after… well after she woke up. He acted like he truly cared, but it didn't make sense for him to care. It was… wrong for him to care.
"Graces," the confused girl turned and faced the mediwitch who had just re-entered "come lay in the bed dear." She didn't move to the bed, she just couldn't seem to find it in her to move, she wanted to stay in the corner where Neville and everyone had left her. There was no doubt in her mind that it was time to lay down, to let the warm folds of the covers take her away from reality and into a dreamless abyss, but she didn't want that now. Madam Pomfrey took a step towards her and on instinct she took a step back. "Gra—"
"Don't. I don't want your pity, I don't want you to hold me and tell me everything is alright, that it was a bad dream, that you are going to help me and all that other stupid Gryffindor nonsense."
The mediwitch sighed, "Would you like to at least tell me what you dreamed?"
"Are you not listening or are you daft?" Graces spat, "All I want is that potion you have in your hands and for you to leave me alone."
"I realize what you want child, but talking about things will help. Potions are only temporary solutions to your problems; you need to talk through them, perhaps I could help."
"You can't." Graces maintained, her frigid silver eyes staring into the Pomfrey's gentle blue.
The two women stood there in a pregnant silence each staring at one another. "Maybe your brother then?" Pomfrey tried, desperately clinging to hope that the girl before her would seek help.
"I will not burden my brother with this."
"I am sure your brother will not consider this a burden." Graces just shook her head and turned away, not wanting this discussion to go on any further. She jumped when she felt firm hands turn her around and the mediwitch was looking at her imploringly. "You screamed your brother's name again and again, you pleaded for mercy on his behalf, you wailed to be let go, you fought me and Neville like we were killing you, and then you begged for death. You need to talk to someone; you need to let me help you."
"What I need," Graces began slowly stressing each word, "is dreamless sleep."
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Don't forget to review/follow! But mostly don't forget to review! Haha I think we should have some quid pro quo agreement, I give you a chapter you give me a review. :P
Next chapter is rated M for well… you know XXX. My point being, this is your warning in case you don't like that sort of stuff.