Disclaimer: All characters belong to J.K. Rowling, except Graces Malfoy & Thomas Higgs, who are 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: Huge thank you to my beta Denarii for getting this ready for me! And to my best friend Aleah, for always reading my chapters' haha and offering great advice for them! I can't tell you how thankful you all should be for her. When I told her the original plan for this chapter she threw a major hissy fit, until I redid it. And thank g-d I did! It's so much better!
Special thanks to xXDaniLynnXx, A Crey, Snakespur, BlueRose22, noone297, spannieren, Manoirmalfoys, Phoenix, Olli, ToxicCrackerz, and Jay for their reviews!
Phoenix! I can't begin to tell you how awesome that whole review was haha I was blushing and laughing the whole time reading it. Thank you! I will be sure not to disappoint.
Also thanks Valcani for the PM!
Chapter 25
"You're moody," Pansy commented, as Graces continued to glare up at the ceiling from her bed. When the blonde made no attempt to answer her, Pansy heaved a long sigh before continuing. "You were moody last night too…"
"Graces, will you just tell me what has you and your brother in such foul moods!" Pansy exclaimed, no longer wanting to tip-toe around the issue.
Graces turned and faced her friend, raising a single eyebrow at her outbursts.
"Now, now, Pansy," Graces tisked. "Is that any way for a lady to be behaving?"
Pansy muttered something about infuriating Malfoys and stomped over to the door of the room about to leave.
"I want to go to the Three Broomsticks today," Graces mused, staring up at the ceiling again, knowing that the comment would have Pansy halting at the door.
"Okay?" Pansy said slowly, wondering what exactly the blonde was aiming at. "You and Draco always go, why are you—"
"I want to go with you," Graces interjected. "Before Draco arrives. And… and… and I want to look… well, sexy."
Pansy shut the door and stared skeptically at her friend.
"You want to go alone with me and look sexy?"
Graces blushed and nodded her head. Never moving her eyes from the ceiling.
"What's going on?" Pansy demanded. "You never want to go anywhere like that without a male chaperone. You say it's not proper, and you never dress sexy. You're like a poster girl for modesty."
"I am not!" Graces shrieked, rolling over and facing her friend. "Remember my dress for the Yule Ball?"
"That doesn't count; it was a ball," Pansy said rolling her eyes, before adding. And it was only a leg."
"It was sleeveless!" Graces argued, not liking at all what Pansy was insinuating.
"You wore a shawl," Pansy deadpanned.
"It went missing before we had to go down!"
Pansy sat on the bed and gave Graces a wicked smile. "That's right, it did. Hmm, I forgot about that."
"You?!" Graces gasped, reading her friend's smile like an open book.
"I couldn't let you ruin that dress with a shawl, Graces," Pansy giggled, "It would have been a mortal sin, I am sure."
Graces proceeded to call Pansy an assortment of unflattering names, but both girls knew there was really no actual menace to the words. After a good round of insults they sat on the bed for a few moments.
"So you want to go out for some drinks and look sexy," Pansy repeated, laying down next to her friend.
"Yeah," Graces said quietly.
"Is it a boy?"
Graces was silent for a few minutes, not wanting to tell Pansy what boy, but in a way wanting to have someone to talk to.
"Yeah," she murmured, "but I'd rather not say who… I just want him to—I don't know—notice me? He's going to be there with another girl and—"
"Another girl?" Pansy gasped. "Graces! I never took you for someone to take another witch's wizard!"
Graces blushed crimson. "They're not together, or anything. He's just going to be there with a girl, and I'm not going to approach him and—"
"Say no more," Pansy shushed. "I have just the outfit for you."
Pansy rolled off the bed and practically skipped to Graces' closet. After a few moments she came out with a white box.
"Graces, you really are a prat sometimes," Pansy muttered, dropping the box on the bed. "I bought you this for your birthday and you have yet to take it out of the box! Oh, and don't think I didn't see that dress I bought you last christmas still sitting in that corner of your closet."
Graces cleared her throat and muttered excuses about not having anywhere to wear it and other things along those lines that Pansy just scoffed at.
"Well, you have a place to wear this," Pansy scolded. "Now get dressed, and then we will do your makeup and hair. Whoever this boy is will definitely notice you."
Graces hesitantly took the box and headed over to change, sending Pansy an unsure glance as she walked away. The dark haired girl just continued to insist though, until Graces finally nodded her head with determination.
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Neville sat awkwardly at a high table in the Three Broomsticks. Hannah was sitting across from him, peeling the paper off her bottle of butterbeer. Neither of the two knew what to say, so they sat in silence. Neville thought to tell her that she looked nice, but decided that that would be a very misleading thing to say. It was obvious that Hannah had spent a great deal of time on her appearance that day, and while Neville felt that she wanted him to notice, he didn't think it would be appropriate to inform her that he had. So instead he sat quietly, rummaging through his head for something to say.
"Is it because I'm not a pureblood?" Hannah asked quietly, not looking up from the bottle.
"Of course not," Neville said, a little more harshly than he intended.
"Of course not," he repeated again, making sure to sound gently. "Hannah, you know me. How could you even think that?"
Hannah bit her lip, and didn't seem to want to answer. It was clear that her question had offended Neville, and she didn't want to further that.
"Hannah, you just caught me off guard with that question," Neville muttered tightly. "Please, go on."
"I just don't understand," Hannah hiccuped, tears already beginning to form in her eyes. "You say you don't feel that way about me, but surely there is more to it. I'm sure you have reasons why you don't feel that way about me. I just want to know those reasons."
"Why?" Neville asked, slightly irritated with Hannah's logic but trying not to show it. "What good will that do?"
"I don't understand why you can't just tell me. That's why I thought maybe it was my blood status, why else could you not just come forth and tell me?"
Neville knew Hannah was upset with him, bordering angry, but he was having a hard time trying to get himself to be more sympathetic. He felt like he was already dealing with one twisted relationship, and as much as he valued Hannah's friendship, he did not feel like putting the time and effort into his relationship with her as he did with Graces.
"Hannah, you said you wanted to be friends. That you had strong feelings for me and—"
"I said I was in love with you," Hannah corrected, angry tears starting to fall down her cheeks that she wiped away harshly.
"I don't think you love me, Hannah. I think—"
"I do love you!" Hannah exclaimed. "Don't tell me how I feel. I love you, and—"
"You don't even know me," Neville pointed out, obviously dumbfounded as to how Hannah could be so passionate about her feelings towards him.
"I do so," Hannah blushed. "We've been friends for years. How could you say—"
"That doesn't mean you know me," Neville broke in. "Listen, Hannah, I know you think you are in love with me, but you're not. You see only small portions of who I am. Not the full effect. I don't share anything intimate with you."
"I know you're kind and brave, that you enjoy tranquil activities like gardening and ballroom dancing, that you would rather be in the crowd than up on stage, that you like to support the people around you and hold strong to your beliefs. I know you're a good man, and that you would do anything to help someone in need. I know you, Neville Longbottom," Hannah proclaimed passionately. "What I don't understand is why you can't put your guard down and let me know you more intimately. Why you are for some reason unwilling to even try to look at me in a different light."
Neville sat quietly in his chair for a few moments and felt oddly guilty about what was happening with Hannah. She apparently did know him well enough on some level, and she had nurtured an affection for him that he had neglectfully ignored. He had not realized he was ignoring it, but he had.
"There's someone else," he admitted quietly, feeling that honesty was the best way to approach this situation.
"Do you love her?" Hannah choked, clearly in anguish over Neville's confession.
Neville shrugged his shoulders and clenched his jaw. This was not a subject he wanted to discuss with Hannah. He didn't want to hurt her like this, or make her feel inferior. He just wanted her to be able to move on.
"I don't know," he sighed, becoming addled with Hannah's insistent stare and questions.
"Does she love you?"
"I don't know. We're not even dating and—"
"So it's just a crush," Hannah finished, a hopeful tone in her voice.
"Hannah, it's more than—"
"Then why aren't you two dating if it is more? Does she know your feelings?"
Neville closed his eyes and exasperatedly ran his hand down his face, trying hard to regain himself.
"I can't talk to you about this," he said firmly. "It's not appropriate and I'm only hurting you. Hannah, believe me when I say that I am sorry. I truly am. I never meant for you to hold such feelings for me, and I never intended to hurt you like this. I really do want to be friends, but I think you were correct when you first said, in the note, that we needed time apart."
"So you don't want to be around me anymore," Hannah surmised, her voice breaking as she spoke.
"I want you to heal," Neville explained. "I don't want you to place yourself in an uncomfortable situation, because—"
"I'm not uncomfortable!" Hannah declared, now crying freely. "You're the one who doesn't want to be near me anymore."
"Hannah, you were the one that said you wanted space to begin with. I don't know what to do for you, but I don't want you miserable. Tell me what you want me to do and I'll do it."
"I want you to give me a chance," Hannah wailed, frustrated beyond recognition. "You're the one that doesn't know me. You think I don't know you, and we have established that I do in fact know you to a degree, but you never have bothered to try and get to know me."
There was a pregnant silence as between the two of them after the outburst. Both students were aware of the stares and whispers going on around them, and each was trying to be as still as possible until the student population went back to their own conversations. Neville sat, his hands laced together on the table with his elbows propped high enough for his mouth to rest along his thumbs, contemplating what he could do for the girl sitting in front of him.
"I don't know what to say, Hannah," he said tiredly. "I truly do not have the slightest inkling on what to say to you. I would gladly sit here in this pub for the rest of the day, allowing you to scream and shout at me all you want, if I thought it would make you feel better. But clearly it doesn't. I have no idea what words I could riddle together to ease your pain. The only things I could say to you at this point to make you feel better would be lies, and I won't do that. So tell me, Hannah, what you want me to do? I can't make myself see you in that way, and no matter how much time we spend together talking it won't change things. My heart isn't in it. It's off somewhere with someone else, so tell me what I am supposed to do?"
"Nothing," Hannah clipped, standing up and grabbing her purse to leave.
"Hannah, please don't do this," Neville begged.
"Do what?" the hufflepuff growled, "Refuse to humiliate myself any farther?"
"I don't want us to leave on bad terms," Neville said, trying desperately to get the girl to sit down.
"Well, we can't always get what we want, can we?" Hannah was now looking around for the barmaid, to hurriedly get her tab.
"I already paid," Neville sighed, not sure what else to do but allow her to go.
Hannah flushed and and seemed to be on the brink of crying all over again. "You didn't have to do that," she said, speaking over the growing lump in her throat. "This wasn't a date."
Neville didn't say anything, just sat waiting for her to say more.
"I think you are making a mistake," Hannah whispered, neither students looking at one another. "I think you could have grown to love me. That we could have really had something together."
Neville just continued to stare down at the table, and only looked up when he was sure Hannah was walking away. He watched her yank open the pub door to make a quick exit and avoid more stares as she continued to wipe away tears, but her quick exit was ruined as she bumped straight into Graces Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson.
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Graces held back the impulse to push Hannah off her, as she laid wedged between the sidewalk outside the Three Broomsticks and the the very distraught hufflepuff.
"I'm so sorry," Hannah sputtered, moving her weight off from her and kneeling to her side. "Are you okay?"
"Of course she's not okay!" Pansy spat, offering Graces her hand to help her up. "You just collided with her you clumsy oaf. I swear, half-bloods—"
"Shut it, Pansy," Graces snapped, putting her own hand down to help the still weeping blonde up. Hannah nodded a thanks and took the hand. It wasn't until after Graces had already heaved her up did she notice that Hannah's hand had been scratched up and she was bleeding profusely on Graces.
Pansy gasped and started muttering about dirty blood, jumping back as though she expected Hannah's blood to taint her own, but Graces just stared at the girl before her. Hannah was sputtering out another apology and searching her purse for a clean handkerchief, but Graces was focused on how she looked. It was clear she had been crying long before their little encounter and her frazzled state was obviously over more than just a bump into her. Neville had obviously not in anyway deluded her about his feelings, and she couldn't help but be embarrassed for thinking that he could have.
"It's fine," she said quietly, adding a soft tone of gentleness towards the girl. "It's not like I've never had blood on my hands before," she joked, though it was clear by Hannah's abrupt silence that the joke was taken as serious.
Graces awkwardly cleared her throat, and looked around to see everyone watching their interaction.
"Come inside, Abbott. I'll fix your palms," Graces was already walking inside the establishment with an air of elegance about her despite her bloodied palm. She quietly took a table near the door and beckoned for a server. Gently straightening her shirt with her clean hand, she asked for alcohol and a towel to clean Hannah's wounds.
She pretended to not notice Neville watching her intently. With the rest of the bar starting over at her, it wouldn't do for her to be staring over at him, but she hoped he would see this as her subtle version of an apology. Her way of acknowledging that she should have given him more trust.
Hannah and Pansy both followed hesitantly, neither knowing what it was Graces was up to. Hannah stood by the table and flushed at the attention, she had just looked back towards the door when Graces spoke again.
"Abbott, the longer you stand there looking like a frightened child the longer people will continue to stare at you. Sit down and allow me to help you."
Pansy was already sitting. She knew better than to argue with Graces when she made a demand, and it was obvious from the blonde girl's tone and posture that she would have no arguments.
"I could just go to the castle and have Madame—"
"You just opened your hand on a sidewalk outside of a bar," Graces began lecturing coldly. "Do you have any idea how dirty that particular area is? Not to mention it is ridiculous to bother her with such a minor injury when I am perfectly willing to heal it myself." Hannah continued standing, worrying her lip and cradling her injured hand. "Abbott, you are truly beginning to try my patience, sit down."
Hannah sat at the command, and watched Graces from across the table. Graces, after receiving the alcohol, towel, and a glass of water, sat cleaning her own hands from Hannah's blood. She seemed to be the only person at the table comfortable with the situation. She just continued to scrub her hand with the towel, absorbed in getting every drop of blood off her.
"Out, damn spot," she muttered quietly to herself, smiling at her own humor while the two girls around her just frowned in confusion, since none of them had ever read Shakespeare's "Hamlet."
"There," Graces proclaimed, tossing the towel to the side of her. "All clean. Now, let's take a look at that hand."
Hannah watched as Graces muttered a few spells around her wounds so that she could see the bacteria growing in it. It was odd to see her not scowling. She was by no means being warm towards her, on the contrary she was being exceptionally cold. She had not even given her warning before she started pouring alcohol on her wounds and didn't seem bothered in the least when Hannah hissed with pain.
"Next time you will think twice before you go tearing through doorways like a hippogriff," Pansy scowled.
"If you are going to be unpleasant, Pansy, you may leave," Graces clipped, not even bothering to look up from Hannah's hand.
"What?" Pansy asked scandalized. "You can't be serious? I don't even understand why you are doing this. You don't even like this half-blood. You told me last night that—"
"I'm a prefect," Graces explained, ice in every syllable she uttered to her friend. "How I feel towards Abbot has nothing to do with how I should carry out my duties."
"I can't believe you are touching that dirty blood," Pansy continued, wrinkling her nose in disgust. "AND she ruined your shirt and it had taken me hours to—"
"Pansy, you are being distracting," Graces sighed, irritation evident in her voice. "I think it is best you leave me and Abbott for the time being, hmm?"
"Graces!" Pansy hissed, lowering her voice so no one could hear. "Do you have any idea what people will say if they see you helping Abbott like this? They'll call you a bl—"
Before Pansy could utter another syllable of her sentence, Graces was on her feet. Towering above her friend, her body angled slightly, like the beginning of a wave about to crash down.
"What will they say?" she asked darkly, looking threateningly over to the other purebloods in the room. "I would like to hear you finish that sentence, my dear Pansy. What do you think they will call me? Because last I checked my name was Graces Bellatrix Malfoy, and I am very interested to know what other title you think someone would dare even consider bestowing upon me."
Pansy quickly spouted off an apology, but Graces honestly wasn't listening, she was too focused on watching the other purebloods look away with the same amount of embarrassment. She sat down, satisfied in knowing that no one would dare call her a blood traitor for helping Abbott.
Though they could definitely call you a blood traitor for what you have been doing with Longbottom, a snide voice reminded as Pansy walked over to sit with Millicent.
"Sorry about that," Graces sighed, placing her hand out on the table to receive Hannah's. "Pansy can be a bit trying at times. I'm sure you have similar friends."
Hannah nodded awkwardly and allowed Graces to continue healing her.
"I'm sorry about your blouse," Hannah said quietly, realizing that Graces had a bloody hand print on her ribs. "I'll replace it, of course."
"This blouse is a Madam Blanc," Graces pointed out, not even looking up at Hannah as she spoke. "It costs over 300 galleons, and this blouse in particular is only sold in a store in France." Graces was now looking up, her silver eyes staring into Hannah's green ones. "I doubt you can afford to replace it."
Hannah flushed with embarrassment, and started to apologize again when Graces interrupted.
"It's fine, Abbott," she shrugged, finishing up the last bit of scratches. "You did me a favor really; I hate this blouse. Much too revealing for my taste, the whole school does not need to know what my midriff looks like, or the exact size and shape of my breasts for that matter. I only wore this outfit because Pansy insisted. It was a gift from her. Also, in case you forgot, I'm disgustingly rich. I could easily replace this blouse if I wanted to, and it would be like buying a piece of Droobles blowing gum. So don't worry about replacing it."
"Thanks," Hannah said quietly, still unsure as to why Graces was behaving so kindly towards her.
"Finished," Graces dismissed, placing her wand back into her pockets and leaning back to look at Hannah. "I am curious though as to what made you so distressed that you couldn't even be bothered to leave in a civilized manner."
"That's a bit private isn't it?" Hannah blushed.
"You knocked me down, ruined my blouse, and caused me to argue with my best friend. I think you can give me some sort of explanation."
Hannah felt a slow heat begin to rise against her neck, and a sinking feeling pool in her stomach.
"The boy I fancy—"
"Longbottom," Graces elaborated.
Hannah flushed at the bluntness in Graces' words, and wished she could just sink into the floor and disappear.
"Yes," she admitted quietly. "Well, he doesn't fancy me. He fancies someone else."
"He told you this?" Graces asked, silently cheering.
Hannah nodded. Graces turned and looked over to where Neville was sitting, he was watching her intently and frowning slightly, clearly worried about what Graces was saying. Ron and Harry seemed to be watching intently as well. Still, Neville's face was the one she focused on. He didn't seem hostile, just genuinely worried, even curious.
"Hmm," Graces hummed, lifting her eyebrows slightly to show some mild interest before continuing to look bored again. "That's how the cauldron cake crumbles sometimes I suppose."
"I...I heard a rumor today that he slept with Luna Lovegood last night at his party," Hannah admitted quietly, "But that doesn't sound like Neville. He wouldn't just drunkenly sleep with some girl."
Graces felt a great panic begin to well up inside her. She had told Neville just yesterday that he was free to do as he pleased with other girls. She had implied he had no reason to be monogamous with her and had even gone as far as to say she didn't as well. And now she was hearing that he may have slept with Luna Lovegood. Hannah didn't know that Neville had slept with her in a drunken state, so she had no idea that this could very well be possible.
Calm down. He didn't lie about Hannah, and this could very well be a rumor. Just a silly rumor. Don't go crucioing Longbottom without asking. Before she could think or stop herself she turned to where Luna was sitting.
"Lovegood," she called casually from where she was sitting, ignoring the way Abbott was desperately trying to get her to be quiet. Luna turned her dreamy eyes over to Graces and stared at her. "Did you sleep with Longbottom last night? Abbott here has her panties in a twist thinking you did."
"No," Luna answered dreamily, her blue eyes still fixated on Graces. "Did you?"
"Of course not," Graces sneered, while a few Slytherins chuckled at what they thought was Luna's way of being snarky.
"Are you sure?" Luna continued, picking out the pickled onion from her drink and sucking on it.
"I'm pretty sure I would know if I shagged Neville Longbottom last night," Graces declared, rolling her eyes, but satisfied that Luna was telling the truth and turned back towards Hannah who was glaring at her.
"Why did you do that?" she hissed, her cheeks reddening more as she noticed people looking at her.
Graces merely smiled and shrugged. "I was genuinely curious," she replied simply. "It's not every day you hear that Neville Longbottom shagged a girl. Cheer up, Abbott. He didn't sleep with Lovegood. Unfortunately, he still has no feelings towards you, but you at least have the comfort of knowing you didn't lose out to Loony Lovegood."
Feeling satisfied with her new knowledge, Graces stood to join her own friends. She had made it just barely halfway to where Pansy and Millicent were sitting when a tall, broad-shouldered Gryffindor stepped in her way.
"McLaggen," Graces greeted coolly, clearly not happy with being stopped in such a way.
If the straw haired boy caught on to the hatred stare in the girl before him he ignored it and smiled broadly down at her.
"That was very impressive magic," he complimented, moving a step closer to Graces. "Healing spells aren't really taught till 7th year, you must study on your own."
Graces just continued her hostile stare at Gryffindor.
"I'm sure you know who I am," Mclaggen continued, "but we have never been formally introduced. I'm Cormac McLaggen, heir to the McLaggens, of course you can just call me Cormac." Graces looked a little past McLaggen to see Neville watching. He was trying to seem invested in whatever Ron was speaking about, but his eyes kept shifting over to where she and McLaggen was. "Can I buy you a drink?"
"You can, but that doesn't mean I would accept it," Graces answered, moving to pass him. McLaggen didn't seem to catch the hint though, because he put his arm out and stopped Graces.
"I'm sorry, may I buy you a drink?" Cormac chuckled, clearly not believing that Graces was turning down his drink.
"No," Graces stated firmly, taking a step back so that Cormac's arm was no longer invading her space. "Now, if you'll excuse me."
Graces had thought that McLaggen would allow her to pass by once she had dismissed him, but it seemed that McLaggen did not possess the Gryffindor chivalry.
"May I ask why not?" The straw haired boy asked coldly, his face showing signs of obvious anger about being humiliated in such a way. Graces could see Neville beginning to stand up from the table he was at, clearly not at all happy with the way McLaggen was cornering her. She prayed he wouldn't come over and do anything stupid, but she could tell from the look of determination on his face that he wasn't going to allow another second of this to go on.
"Is there a problem here?" a handsome voice asked, while the owner of the voice wrapped a strong arm around Graces waist.
Graces looked up to see Terence Higgs beside her. Though he did not look at all like the Terence she knew. The Terence Higgs she knew was a warm and kind man, drawing people in with his charming smile and playful nature, but you would never guess that if you looked at the man towering over her.
The Higgs heir was staring stonily down at McLaggen, his face completely cold except for his eyes that held a challenging stare. it was obvious in appearance alone that Terence Higgs was not a man to be trifled with. Not only was he a fully grown wizard, five years out from Hogwarts, but the air with which he held himself displayed his wealth and power.
"Of course not," McLaggen sputtered, suddenly feeling very small, a feeling the tall built Gryffindor was not used to.
"Good," Terence clipped, "then you won't mind letting us pass."
McLaggen slunk to the side as the alumnus and current Slytherin moved forward.
"My, my, Miss Malfoy, how we have grown," Terence commented, moving towards the back of the room to a more private table. Passing right next to Neville, who was still standing after getting up earlier. "Last I saw you, you were just starting to bud, but now I see you are in full bloom."
Graces flushed as Terence took her hand and spun her around so he was able to see the full effect.
"Ah, but still definitely a Malfoy in more than beauty I see," Terence smiled, moving his hand and tugging the blood stained cloth that was hugging Graces' ribs. Graces flushed and explained why she looked such a fright, but her explanation just caused the older gentleman to laugh warmly. "Don't fret so, Graces. I was just jesting, even bloodied up you're a beautiful young woman."
Graces noted Neville was watching their every interaction with an extremely dark look. he had still not returned to his table with Ron and Harry, and seemed to be, despite himself, glued standing to the floor.
"Thank you," Graces blushed. "How's your wife?" she asked, knowing that Neville would hear.
"Breathtaking as always, and giving me another son any day now," Terence said proudly, now continuing on his way to sit down at the table next to where Harry and Ron were seated.
"The gods must truly favor you to be blessing you with another son," Graces smiled, taking her seat and worrying slightly as Neville continued to walk towards the bar and not back towards his friends.
"Ah, they favor the Higgs with sons, but rarely smile down and bless them with daughters," Terence sighed, a warm half smile still playing at his lips.
"Most families would be overjoyed for such luck," Graces pointed out, trying to pay attention to the man sitting with her and not Neville who was speaking to Madam Rosmerta and making a small gesture towards her.
Terence just chuckled at her comment.
"My wife will have two little me's running around, and yet I have not yet been blessed with a little her. I would love to see the day when my wife's beauty and our love will be forever encased in a daughter."
"Your wife is a lucky witch," Graces said, smiling softly.
"Isn't she?" Terence smiled, cockily pulling on his suit's opening, causing Graces to giggle. "Oh and looky here, another good looking Higgs!" he exclaimed, as Thomas walked up to the table a questioning look on his face. "You are a lucky girl, Malfoy, to be seated with two dashingly good looking men."
"So lucky," Graces proclaimed, laughing at Terence's antics as he pulled his younger cousin in for a great bear hug.
Thomas eventually wiggled out of his cousin's grasps and straightened himself up, tossing over an annoyed look at Terence before taking a seat.
"I should let you two catch up," Graces smiled, moving to leave. "Thank you so much for earlier, Terence, and send my best to your wife and new baby."
"Nonsense," Terence exclaimed. "You'll join us. Come sit back down, I'd be honored if you graced us with your company."
"No," Graces flushed, "I couldn't impose. You came all this way to see Thomas, family time is important."
Terence stood, and before Graces could leaved placed a tender hand on her shoulders.
"As far as the Higgs clan is concerned, Graces, you are family," he said tenderly. "We will never be able to thank you for what you did for Thomas here."
Thomas nodded to what his cousin said, and gestured for Graces to sit back down.
Graces, slightly overwhelmed by the Higgs heir's words, complied. The Higgs family was very different from some of the other pureblood families, though they held the same values. One thing that marked their difference was the sheer amount of children they had. While all pureblood families valued children, the Higgs took it to the next level. Each family had as many or more children than the Weasleys. It made for an absurd family gathering, and yet they all were extremely close. If what Terence had said was true and the whole of the Higgs clan accepted her as family she had a vast amount of alliances.
"I wasn't aware I had gained so many brothers and sisters," she joked warmly.
"Brothers, sisters, fathers, mothers, grandmothers, and grandfathers. Even nieces and nephews," Terence smiled. "And, if you should ever want, probably any husband. Though, you do not need to marry into the family for us to treat you as a part of it."
"I really haven't done anything to warrant such—"
Graces was stopped by Thomas' hand reaching out and holding onto hers, while the silent boy shook his head.
"You've done a lot, Graces," Terence corrected. "As you must know we are a very close family, and we all were worried for Thomas before he started Hogwarts. We were worried he wouldn't excel because he couldn't speak the spells. We worried he would be teased and mocked, with no other person from our family there to protect him. We were nervous for his confidence, and we worried for his general well-being. Thomas, unlike the rest of us, didn't have a soul at Hogwarts to keep him company. I had my older brothers, and others had cousins and siblings as well. Thomas here got caught in an odd gap where he would be completely alone, something we Higgs are not used to. But you took the place of all of us and quickly put away all our worries. Not only did you take our places for him emotionally, you advocated for private lessons with Snape and made extra time to tutor him. You have more than earned your place among our clan, your brother too."
Graces nodded and was glad when Madam Rosmerta showed up at the table so she could quickly wipe her eyes of the emotion being born into them.
"One Dragon Barrel Brandy, a butterbeer and whatever the lady would like," Terence ordered confidently.
"Well, it would seem the lady's first drink has already been ordered," Rosmerta smiled, setting down a drink in front of Graces. "Chocolate Cauldron Martini for you dear."
Graces looked over to the table next to her, and Neville gave her a faint smile and little nod, before Ron turned to him and started gesturing wildly in what Graces could only assume was about quidditch. Smiling at the gesture, she reached out to try the drink, but before she could touch the glass Terence had picked it up himself.
"Who sent her this?" he demanded, no longer wearing his warm smile.
"An admirer," the barmaid laughed, clearly not understanding the severity of Terence's question.
"I figured that, but who?" terence gritted, clearly not having any patience.
"Well, I can't tell you that. I was asked and paid not to say." It was clear that Madam Rosmerta was not used to this kind of interrogation, and Graces wondered how long she would hold her temper.
"Did you personally make this drink?" Terence asked, now standing and holding the drink in front of him.
"No, the bartend—"
"Then how do you know it wasn't tampered with? Do you have any id—"
"I think I know who the drink is from," Graces broke in, not wanting this series of questions to go any farther. "I'm sure it is safe. Please, don't ruin this for me."
After a few awkward moments and an apology from Terence to Madam Rosmerta they were all three alone again. Graces still had not had a drink because Terence had refused to hand it over yet, promising to allow her it after they were served and could talk privately.
"How can you know for sure who sent this drink?" he asked, looking much like a father as he stared over at Graces.
"I just have an idea," Graces shrugged.
"Do you understand how dangerous it is to accept a drink like this?"
Graces rolled her eyes, and looked over to Thomas for support, but the younger boy seemed to be in complete agreement with his cousin.
"Yes," Graces sighed exasperatedly, "but I am sure it is fine."
Terence groaned, and rubbed his face tiredly. "I am sounding more and more like my father every day," he muttered. "Still, I can't just allow you to drink this without knowing it is for sure safe, Graces. Your brother would kill me before the guilt could."
"It's just a drink," Graces whined, "the bartender made it."
"He could have been under a spell, or the bloke who sent this could have paid him to add something," Terence maintained.
"Well, if that is the way you are thinking how could any of us ever eat out?"
The older man chuckled and moved to grab something from his inside breast pocket of his suit. When his hand emerged it was accompanied by clear cylinder that held a small white mouse.
"With this," he said, opening the cylinder and giving the small mouse a few drops of her martini. "Let's just wait a few minutes and see if the mouse is still alive and healthy," Terence requested.
Graces nodded, but kept her eyes glued to the heir in front of her.
"Why are you carrying a mouse like that?" she asked, suspicious as to why Terence was being so paranoid. She had never known the man in front of her to be the cautious.
Terence eyed her quietly for a moment before leaning back and rubbing his strong jaw, clearly trying to decide if he could tell her.
"Our family has been threatened," he confided, watching Graces for her reaction. "It appears that our neutrality in the war isn't being taken well from one of the sides. Naturally, my father and I refused to bow down to such a threat, and it has placed my life as well as my family's life in a considerable amount of danger."
Graces could feel her heart hammering against her chest and looked over to Thomas, who clearly already knew of such news.
"Terence," she whispered, "this is a serious threat, you can't possibly mean to continue defying the Dark Lord."
"I refuse to bow down to someone out of fear," Terence maintained. "We have a large family. If he chooses to attack, he is attacking an army. I doubt he would want to lose his own people in such a battle, especially since he lost so many to the Ministry." Graces opened her mouth to argue, positive that Terence was making a mistake, but he put a gentle hand down on her shoulder to silence her. "This has already been decided. We as a family have made the decision to hold out. I don't want you concerning yourself with this. You have your own family troubles to worry over, leave ours to me."
Graces nodded, but couldn't seem to rid herself of the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.
"Now, it looks like Ezekiel here has survived the drink, just one final test," Terence said, taking the drink and lifting it to his own lips. "Thomas, if I start proclaiming my undying love to some bloke in this bar, I am going to hold you accountable. I trust you to stop me before it gets that far."
Thomas chuckled and raised his shoulders noncommittally.
"Bottoms up," Terence toasted, before taking a sip.
Graces waited, not bothering to hide her boredom. She was very aware that there was no love potion in that drink because Neville had given it to her. She looked over to the other table to see a very irritated Neville watch the scene unfold. When he saw her looking over he smiled and rolled his eyes, causing Graces to have a serene grin as she turned back to her own company.
She was about to make a comment about overly protective heirs when Terence eyes went wide and a goofy grinned came on his face.
"Terence?" Graces asked, looking over at Neville for a moment, who seemed just as shocked as she was.
"I...I'm in love," Terence cooed, his eyes wide with wonder. "I have to tell him."
"Wh-what?!" Graces exclaimed, her heart pounding.
Thomas' eyes were wide as well, and he was standing up now clearly unsure of what to do. He looked like he was about to stun his cousin before he could do anything truly stupid, when Terence shot his arm out and pulled him onto his lap.
"Oh, Thomas, how I love you," Terence proclaimed, laughing profusely as his not so little cousin struggled to get away from his strong arms. "I love you so much I could just eat you up."
Graces was bent over laughing as Terence swung Thomas like a rag doll in his arms, and proceeded to pinch his cheeks and tousle his hair. Thomas, not really being a small boy for his age, ended up wrestling away and sending, what Graces assumed, a very potent stinging charm at his cousin before sitting back down.
"Now, was that really necessary?" Terence asked, rubbing his bum where he had been hexed.
Thomas scowled and nodded his head, clearly not thinking that his cousin's antics were nearly as funny as he and Graces thought.
It was then that Graces saw Neville get up and head towards the loo. She quietly excused herself and headed in the same direction. When she entered the quiet hall in the back she called over to Neville to get his attention.
"Longbottom," she whispered, relieved when he turned around and saw her. She nodded her head for him to follow her and they both snuck into an old broom closet in the back.
"Lumos," Neville whispered, the moment the door was shut and Graces had locked it.
Graces now had no idea what to say. She had just seen an opportunity to be alone with Neville and jumped on it without thinking. Not knowing what to do, she leaned in and kissed him softly. Lingering near him while a tangible silence pulsated around them, she knew something needed to be said, that Neville, while he was no longer furious with her, still had not fully let go of what happened between them the other day. So she stood there for a few moments searching her head for the right thing to say.
"I've put the crazy away," she whispered, letting her hands rest on his chest.
"And," Neville prompted.
Graces frowned, unsure of what Neville was looking for.
"Don't you think someone in this room owes the other one an apology?" Neville asked innocently, clearly not willing to let this slide.
Graces flushed, but nodded.
"I'm sorry," she said quietly, looking down at her hands resting on Neville's chest.
"For," Neville prompted.
"For… for, overreacting?" Graces tried, looking up. Neville did not seem to feel that wasn't enough though, judging by his insistent stare. "And for being prissy with you?"
"Graces, are you asking me what you should be sorry for?" Neville sighed, irritatedly.
"No, I am sorry for overreacting and being rude towards you, but there seems to be more you feel I should be sorry about."
Neville nodded, and decided that if wanted Graces to start using her words he should do the same.
"You can't just push me away when you get upset," Neville declared.
"Oh," Graces stated mulishly, "that."
"Yeah, that."
"I'll work on that," Graces muttered grudgingly, not sure at all how she was going to stop something she did without thinking.
"That's all I ask," Neville contended, kissing her head softly and moving his arms around her.
Graces was silent for a moment and played with her hands for a bit before asking, as casually as possible, if Neville really did sleep with Luna Lovegood.
"Does it matter?" Neville questioned offhandedly. "You said I was free to do as I please in that aspect."
"So you did?" Graces asked, unable to hide the hurt in her voice, as she moved away from him.
"No, I didn't," Neville promised, rolling his eyes and pulling her back. "I wouldn't do that, but you should not say those types of things to me nonetheless."
Graces nodded and leaned against Neville, thankful that he didn't do anything out of anger or spite to hurt her. Thankful that she didn't place her trust in someone undeserving of it.
"I don't want you sleeping with or dating other girls," she said quietly.
"So you want to go steady," Neville paraphrased.
"No, I'm still not your girlfriend," Graces maintained.
Neville was silent for a few moments, clearly taking her words in and mulling them over.
"So, let me get this straight, you want a monogamous relationship without any of the commitment?"
"Yes," Graces said, praying that Neville would agree.
"Okay."
"Really?" Graces breathed looking up.
"Really," Neville nodded, though he did not seem very happy about the situation. "On the condition that you will talk to me when something upsets you, and you also will refrain from dating or sleeping with other guys."
"Agreed," Graces smiled, knowing she was really getting the better end of the deal with this.
"This is just going to disappoint so many girls," Neville said sarcastically. "I had so many lined up to sleep with me, I really just feel terrible."
"Well, they will just have to be disappointed," Graces giggled. "You already agreed."
"I did," Neville murmured, leaning down and kissing the girl in his arms. He didn't realize how much he ached to be near her until moments like this where she was with him smiling and he could hold her freely, all the while listening to her musical giggles. "Can I see you tonight?"
"Yes," Graces breathed, nuzzling her nose affectionately against his. "It will have to be late."
"I don't care, so long as I can see you."
"Okay," Graces nodded, "midnight in Greenhouse One."
"Perfect," Neville smiled, "you should wear this."
"Such a guy!" Graces gasped, hitting him playfully against the chest.
"What?" Neville asked. "I like it."
"It's covered in your friend's blood."
"Wash it."
Graces explained the reasons why she couldn't use magic to wash the shirt, and then went into where it was from and how she couldn't just buy a new one by owl.
"A Madame Blanc, huh?" Neville repeated, his eyes still raking down the tight periwinkle blue shirt, clearly enjoying how it hugged Graces' body and dipped low in the front, while he let his hands wander to her backside over the dragon hide pants.
"Yes, a Madame Blanc," Graces repeated. "and stop that."
"Stop what?"
"Stop looking at me like that," Graces elaborated.
"Like what?"
"Like you know what is under here."
"I do know what is under there," Neville said huskily, pressing himself against her, before jumping back when Graces pinched his shoulder.
"We have to go," Graces stressed, "we've been in here far too long. People are probably wondering where we are."
"Oh, so we can't tell them we were snogging in a broom closet together?" Neville asked innocently.
Graces scowled, but there was really no malice in it, and she ended up just kind of laughing at her own attempt.
"No, we cannot. We'll just say we bumped into one another and were setting up our next tutoring session. Say we got in an argument because you want to move forward and I am insisting we stick to the basics."
"Why would I want to move forward?"
"Because you feel like you need to work on what is going on in class now, that way your grades can improve."
"Okay," Neville sighed.
"I'll see you tonight, thank you for the drink," Graces said leaning up and kissing Neville gently on the lips. "but don't send me any more. It's too risky."
Graces hurriedly left the broom closet before Neville could argue, and exited the lonely hall.
"Graces! There you are!" Terence called, now surrounded by most of the Slytherin 6th and 7th years and a few other younger purebloods from the house. The older years apparently now realized that their old seeker was there and everyone wanted to catch up and congratulate the older man on his sons, including Draco. "'Bout time you showed up, your brother here was just about to have a conniption when you didn't show up after a few minutes."
"Why are you covered in blood?" Draco demanded, moving past the crowd and forcefully grabbing at his sister and examining her. "What the hell happened?"
"Nothing, Draco," Graces whispered, stopping her brother before he lifted her shirt to examine her bare ribs. Blushing profusely, she explained what had happened earlier with Hannah.
"She's fine, Draco," Terence called, stopping his discussion about the latest accidental magic his toddler displayed. "No need to coddle her, she's a big girl if you haven't noticed."
Draco scowled over at the older boy, and then actually took a look at his sister. Graces fidgeted as her brother looked her over a small frown growing the more he looked.
"You don't like it," Graces said quietly, now embarrassed.
"I just know what boys think when they see it," Draco frowned, "and for you and Pansy to be here with no chaperone..."
"You were supposed to be here half an hour after we got here," Graces argued. "Where were you?"
Graces watched as Draco suddenly looked visibly sick, and placed a gentle hand on him.
"Draco, what is it?"
"Nothing," the blond boy rasped, "I think we should leave."
"So soon after you just arrived?" Graces asked, now knowing something was wrong. "Draco, what's—"
"Graces,"Draco snapped, "you're covered in a half-blood's blood and I am not feeling well. We are going."
"Hey, is everything alright over here?" Terence asked lowly, placing a hand on Draco's arm, but looking over at Graces.
"Everything is fine," Draco clipped, moving away from the older boy. "We are leaving though. It was great seeing you, Terence. Please send Arella my best, but we must be going."
Terence clearly did not believe that everything was fine, but he nodded his head and allowed the twins to go. He hugged both of them, despite Draco only holding his hand out for a handshake, and insisted they come over during break to see his new child and catch up.
It was a long, silent walk back to the castle. Graces knew Draco was deep in thought, but he seemed unwilling to even look at her, let alone divulge what it was that was bothering him. It was clear though that the Slytherin boy was beyond disturbed. His skin was glistening with sweat, and he looked as though he would be sick at any moment. When Graces had tried to make small talk, he had not even looked up from the ground. It was as though he didn't even hear her.
They had barely reached the castle when Hagrid came stampeding by with a few other students running close behind him, Katie Bell in his arms screaming insanely.
Don't forget to follow/review! A lot of work went into these 28 pages, I like to hear how it paid off. ;)