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: As usual thank you to my beta Denarii for editing the chapter! And my BF Aleah for reading it over for me!
Special thanks to lipglossandcigarettes, x XRoweenaJAugustineX x, noone297, Bharm, spannieren, Blue Luver5000, Manoirmalfoys, and Lady-Finwe for the reviews! You all don't have any idea how excited I am whenever I get those notifications. I stay up on nights I post waiting for them. So thanks guys.
Chapter 30
"Malfoy! You're late!"
"I'm also adorable. Any other obvious things you wanted to point out, Graham?"
"You're not being cute right now, Graces," Montague growled.
"I'm always cute," Graces shrugged, smiling up at the red faced captain sweetly as she reached out for her broom that Draco was holding. "Don't be upset with me, Graham" she pouted, leaning her cheek onto her broom handle.
"No way that's working on me, Malfoy. Laps."
"Awww come on, Montague," Graces whined. "Now? Right before the game?"
"You know the rules, Gray. Laps."
"Come on, Graham, she was only a few minutes late," Vaisey chipped in. "She's never late. You're going to get her all tired before the match, Graham."
Graces nodded her head enthusiastically, not at all liking the idea of running laps in front of the school and Gryffindor team as they piled in for the game.
"Those are the rules!" Graham stressed, looking around at his teammates.
"It's a rule that could cost us the game if she's exhausted after," Harper pointed out. "We're already down one of our strongest players because of injury. The last thing you want to do is hinder us further."
"Fine!" Graham growled, throwing his hands up. "Fine, but you are running laps after the game, Malfoy."
"After?!" It was now Draco's turn to chime into the debate. "Our mum is coming for the game. You can't have her run laps after."
"UGH! Fine, after you visit with your mum than."
"Thank you, Graham," Graces chided, mounting her broom and grinning ear to ear.
"I see you're in a better mood," Draco muttered lowly, kicking off the ground with beside her and following her to the post.
"I feel better, I just needed a rest. I think lack of sleep just had me overly emotional."
"I told you not to tutor Longbottom so late last night." Graces hovered in front of the post, and looked down under her broom handle at the top of her brother's head. "I think you are spending too much time with him."
"I'm tutoring him, and in case you have not noticed that isn't the easiest task."
"Still…"
"Still what?" Graces asked, now worried about what her brother could be insinuating.
Draco looked up, a storm of color brewing in his gray eyes.
"You have a kind heart. You always have. I just don't want you getting attached to Longbottom."
"I'm not getting attached to Longbottom!" Graces exclaimed. "I'll do what I have to do when the time comes. No hesitation."
"You are not taking the Dark Mark, Graces."
"Yes, I am. I told you—"
"No! I told you. I am the head of this family, and I told you that you were not allowed to even think of taking that mark."
"I am not going to have you stand alone in this."
"I am not standing! I am on my hands and knees like a dog. I am a dog! A mindless animal that does the bidding of its owner. I will not have the same fate land on you. I will not have you branded by a madman. You will not take that mark. I will not have it, Graces. If you so much as breathe a word of it again I am sending you away."
"Draco! That's not—"
"This discussion is over. I am the head of this family and I have said no."
Graces felt like every second passing her and her brother was an eternity. Draco stared at her wildly with flared nostrils, breathing deeply in the chill air. He was serious. He would send her away, and judging by the way he was trembling he would send her across the world just to prove a point. It was hard to tell at this point if it was anger or fear that would make the final decision.
"Father would never have sent me away," she rasped out over the growing lump in her throat.
"Well he isn't here now, is he?" Draco pointed out slowly, choosing his words in a way that would cut. "I am, and I will send you away."
"I thought you needed me," Graces hiccuped, glad the rest of the team was occupied.
Draco for the first time looked away allowing his mask of indifference to shatter.
"I do," he admitted softly, relinquishing Graces broom handle. "I need you to be my sister, my escape from reality. I need you to eat meals with me. Study with me. Sit beside me in an armchair at the end of the day looking for merpeople. I need you to bitch and rage about me skipping Quidditch games. I need you to keep me sane and make me feel like the world is still turning. I don't need you fighting, though, Graces. I need you to be my sister and let me take care of you in a different way than you are taking care of me."
It was understandable. Everything that Draco was saying had meaning in it. He loved her, he needed someone untouched by this. He needed normalcy, affection, love in return. He needed to feel like she was his and not the Dark Lord's. Their father had been taken by him, a once devoted family man ripped away into the inner circle unable to break free. He was trying to save her and at the same time living through her.
Graces watched as Madam Hooch began to walk across the field. It was all so surreal how life just continued. Draco had wanted to put all of this on hold. He had said that he was going to skip this game, their biggest game, and attend to other things. He had been willing to allow life to pass by without him just like their father had done after fourth year. He had missed so many things. When Draco had told her of his plans to skip the game she had felt the first stings of loss. It was like watching their father all over again, only she was not her mother. She was not going to allow her brother to meet the same fate.
So she raged. She raged for a full day about him skipping the game, because in her mind she was raging for the loss of his soul. At one point she even brought on the water works and sobbed uncontrollably in his dorm room about what an awful big brother he was being. How he was leaving her alone for such a big game. How he never spent time with her playing Quidditch anymore. How it wasn't fair for him to skip this game. How he was letting her and the whole team down. On and on she had went until Draco acceded to her will and announced he would play.
"Graces, I need you to understand this," Draco said gently, calling his sister back from her thoughts.
"I understand," Graces said hollowly turning her head back.
"I want us to have a good day." Graces closed her eyes to her brother's hand on her shoulder. "We're going to play a good game, see our Mum and get utterly pissed at the party tonight."
"You may not want to get too pissed," Graces smiled, causing Draco to frown and look at her questioningly. "Pansy may take advantage of you."
"Oh, bloody hell," Draco groaned.
"Pansy would be an awesome sister for me to have."
"Don't start," Draco warned, putting out a wary finger and moving away from his sister. "I'm serious, Graces. It's not funny."
"Oh, come on Draco!" Graces teased. "Imagine how nice it would be having Pansy around all the time."
"Nice for who?! You? You're not the one that would have to go to bed with her."
"I go to bed with her all throughout the school year. She's a wonderful roommate: tidy, respectful of space, organized, doesn't stay up late, knows when to leave you alone. She does spend quite a lot of time getting dressed in the morning, but she's always qui—"
"That is not what I meant."
"Oh?" Graces began innocently. " Then what did you mean?"
"You know very well what I meant."
"Hmm—Draco! How crude!"
"Fuck you!"
"Hey now. That is not okay, Draco. Malfoys don't marry family members anymore."
"UGH! You, you—"
"Hey! Where are you going?!"
"Away from you!" Draco called, already in the middle of the pitch. "I'm going to warm up and try to forget what a vile sister I have!"
Graces laughed vibrantly over her own humor until a quaffle smacked her on the side.
"G-g-get y-your h-h-head in th-the g-g-game, Mmm-mmal-f-foy!" Higgs called, sending another quaffle towards another hoop, almost succeeding in getting it in.
"Higgs, you prat! It's just warm ups!"
"Th-then w-warm up!"
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Graces nervously stood in front of the posts. Their team was not quite up to par this season and she knew it. A lot of pressure was on Draco to get the snitch and on her to prevent as many goals as possible. The Weaslette was actually pretty good on a broom, and it was proving to be a much harder task than she had anticipated. Thomas was a good flyer, but the boy had a harder time maneuvering through the Gryffindor teams tactics. Thomas wasn't the sort to play dirty. If someone came up close to him, he slowed down and tried to lose them, rather than shove them off. He had already been nailed by a bludger in his shoulder after Ginny had ended up herding him to the outskirts of the pitch where one was coming.
Graham had been furious with both Thomas and Crabbe for not stopping the bludger from hitting him. And, of course, Graces herself had lost it and began screaming across the field at Graham for yelling at Thomas and not checking his shoulder. This caused Gryffindor to receive their first goal with her distraction, something that the whole team, including Draco, was not happy about.
The only consolation she had was looking over at the Gryffindor bleachers and seeing that Neville was not cheering the goal like the rest of his house. Graces clutched her broom handle tightly and began to refocus on the task at hand. Robins was now closing, she had a more fluid and playful way about getting towards the goals. She dipped and spun, making it nearly impossible for Graham to regain the ball and difficult for her to have an idea of which post she was going for.
The blond took a deep breath as the girl neared and was convinced that Robins was going to send it through the main hoop as she leaned back, but was caught off guard and the girl dropped suddenly lower and hurled the quaffle towards the lower left hoop. Graces tightened her legs around the broom and threw her body down and smacked the quaffle so that it barely missed.
"Good save, Malfoy!" Graham called over, as he tore away towards the other side of the pitch quaffle in hand.
Graces hoisted herself up among the Slytherin applause and looked over to the Gryffindor side to see Neville, and Luna, cheering loudly among the stands, not even caring at the looks and groans they were getting.
He needs to watch it. It's going to be too obvious.
He's fine. Luna is doing the same. They will just chalk it up to him being a good sport.
Even you know that is lame. It's all too obvious.
"We have an issue."
Graces jumped and looked to her side where Draco was hovering beside her.
"Damn right we do," she scowled. "What the bloody hell are you doing here? You're supposed to be finding the snitch."
Draco gave his sister a glare, but continued on. "Like I said. We have an issue."
"Fine," Graces conceded, checking to make sure the quaffle was still far off before giving her brother her full attention. "What is our issue?"
"Potter."
"Well, that isn't new," the blonde scoffed, facing the game again.
"He's trying to get a look at my arm."
"What are you talking about?"
"He keeps flying on my left side, and looking at my arm."
"You're being paranoid, Draco."
"I don't think I am," Draco said slowly as Harry began wandering over to their side of the pitch.
"Malfoys!"
Graces and Draco both jumped as Blaise came flying towards them.
"Will you get your bloody heads in the game! I swear if I see you two talking one more time on this pitch I'm going to have Crabbe knock a bludger at both your heads."
Draco gave his sister a wary glance, and begrudgingly left her side in search for the snitch.
"Hey! If you're so worried, end the game!" she called out, only half joking.
Graces considered watching Potter and seeing if her brother was in fact being paranoid, but from that point on the game seemed to take off. Quaffle after quaffle was being belted towards the goals, and she didn't have the time or energy to focus on anything else. She was reaching, bounding, and practically falling off her broom to make the saves. Multiple times she had yelled at Graham that he needed to get the quaffle over to the other side, that she needed a break, but it appeared the Gryffindors had better players/tactics because they continually had the quaffle and were sending it over.
Finally, Thomas and Blaise had worked together and got the quaffle and were currently speeding down the pitch passing it off as they headed towards the goals. Graces leaned down on her broom and sucked in as much of the cold October air as possible, trying to bring her heart rate down. As she laid against the handle she looked down. Draco was searching for the snitch; ducking diving, climbing the air, frantically searching to put this game to an end, all the while Harry was following close behind and staring at his left arm; not even looking for a glint of gold.
He's not being paranoid.
No sooner had the thought hit her, did Graces see the snitch. It was hovering just off aways from her. Draco wasn't even close to seeing it, he was currently heading lower, not high up where she was. She slowly kept taking deep breaths, not wanting to even so much as move, incase the tiny pod saw and darted away. She needed Draco's attention, this game had to end. It had to end before Potter did the typical Gryffindor tactic of bluntly acting, and moved to expose her brother's arm. She began descending downward in the hopes she could get in a shot of his vision and nodd him over in the right direction. But right as she was almost in his line of vision the snitch darted right.
Graces didn't even check to ensure that the quaffle was over at the other end, before zipping off towards the snitch. All the while screaming for Draco to follow suit.
"Graces! What are you doing! The goals are—"
"Draco! Stop yelling at me and catch up!" Graces screamed, making an abrupt dive as the piece of gold went down.
"You can't catch the snitch, Graces!" Draco bellowed, now on her heel.
"No, but I can ensure it's not lost and that you are the one to get to it!"
Graces gritted her jaw as the cold air pierced through her, determined to keep Harry from the snitch and her brother's arm. She wanted to glance back. She wanted to see if Potter was speeding to pass Draco for snitch or if he was staying near him for a chance to get at his arm. He had a better broom, he was a better flyer, and yet she saw no signs of Raven hair in her vision, only blonde.
Draco pulled over on her left side, now handle to handle with her as they dived down towards the ground.
"I got this," he gritted against the air, dismissing her to go back to her post where she was needed, but Graces didn't dare leave. Potter had just pulled up, and instead of moving more forward towards the snitch, he was keeping his speed to parallel where Draco's arm clutched his broom. Graces allowed Draco to gain the lead and stayed on his right side watching Harry, as he gripped his broom tighter with one hand and with the other reached forward to Draco's.
Luckily, at that moment the snitch had veered upward and Draco followed it in pursuit. Harry cursed and climbed higher in the air, completely unaware of Graces as she manouvered herself to fly up in between the two boys, blocking Harry's access to Draco's arm.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING, MALFOY!" Harry yelped, almost losing his balance as Graces rushed between the two of them knocking him hard against his side.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING, POTTER!" Graces spat, her only focus in keeping Harry and Draco separated. "Draco! WIll you grab that damn snitch already!"
"It's not that simple!" Draco shouted back, now flying forward as the golden pain in his ass started flying parallel to the ground again.
"Je vais sauter," Graces warned, knowing that Potter did not speak French and would be lost to her plans.
"No, no you're not."
"Si, je vais le faire," Graces argued. "Comme on s'est entraîné à la maison."
"We are too high!" Draco roared, an edge of panic in his voice.
"Un!" Graces took a deep breath. "Deux!" She made sure she was as close as possible to Draco's broom. "Trois!" And she was airborne, jumping off her own Nimbus and onto the back of Draco's, hurrying to grip the wood and gain control so Draco could climb forward, not caring that her own broom was currently plummeting to the ground to meet it's end. "I got it, go!"
Draco glanced back for one moment to ensure that his sister was securely on the broom before moving to the edge of his broom handle, wildly grabbing at the snitch. Graces accelerated forward, glaring at the flit of gold to keep this course and not dive anywhere else. She prayed that this would work especially because Harry had overcome his initial shock over their maneuver and was now racing back towards them.
"I'm going to jump it!"
"No! I can't—"
Before Graces could argue, Draco had thrust himself off the broom towards the snitch. Graces didn't even care to look and see if he succeeded in his task. She threw herself forward gripping the broom between her thighs and with both hands grabbed the ends of Draco's robes. And they were now both going down. The broom had plummeted nose first under her's and Draco's weight, and she had slipped off like a child going down a firepole.
"Grab the broom!" Draco shouted, as they descended down. "Graces! Grab the bloody handle!"
Graces could hardly breath. They were falling. They were falling. She was searching her robes for her wand. So she could accio her Nimbus to her, but Draco kept yelling for her to grab the broom. Blindly she grabbed at the air, until she felt the hard wood.
"UP! UP! UP! UPUPUPUP!" She screamed, praying that it would stop. That it would halt in midair, and prevent them from hitting the ground. Suddenly, her arm jerked up sharply, causing the tendon in her shoulder to sear with pain. They had stopped falling. She looked up, to see if she could swing herself on the broom, and was shocked to see Harry gripping the other end of the Nimbus with one hand.
Graces had a feeling that Harry was cursing both her and Draco at the moment, but she couldn't hear him over the screaming coming from around the pitch and the stands. It felt like she and Draco were dangling by a thin piece of thread that was her arm. She had a good grip on the handle, thanks to her gloves, but her arm was another story. She felt like it was tearing away from her body, and she could barely think. Draco was clinging to her still from the fall, and he was trying to reach up and take part of the handle as well to alleviate her from his weight.
"I can't hold on!" She whimpered.
"You don't have to."
A flood of relief washed over both blondes, Graham and Crabb showed up beside them. Both taking one of the twins, and heading towards the ground.
"Malfoy! You are such an idiot!" Graham snarled, holding Graces close to his chest as they headed down. "First you abandoned the goal. THE GOAL! What in bloody hell were you thinking! Thomas had to tear across the field to defend it, and Gryffindor got five goals in! FIVE! And then you and your dimwit brother pulled this little stunt. Look at your arm! I bet anything you tore something! You'll be out all year probably too! I bet Hooch is going to throw a fit, and we'll lose house points. Not to mention you could have—"
Graham stopped his rant as he realized that the air was filled with loud cheers as the whole Slytherin house swarmed down onto the field.
Draco had caught the snitch.
"We won?" Graham whispered, mounting off his broom and still holding Graces in his arms. "We really won?!"
"WE WON!" Graces shrieked, no longer caring that her arm was on fire, just screaming cheers with the rest of her house as they swarmed around her and her teammates. Draco was grinning from ear to ear as a few 7th years lifted him on their shoulders.
"Graham! We won!" She cheered, fist pumping her good hand in the air, trying to bring her captain out of his daze.
"We won," the captain whispered, now looking down at Graces and slowly smiling. "GODS AND GODDESSES WE WON!" Graces gave a yelp as Graham threw her up and started hugging her violently as he twirled her around.
"You're behaving like a Gryffindor!" Graces giggled, as the boy continued on crushing her in a hug like a ragdoll.
"I don't care!" Graham declared, dipping Graces down and kissing her hard on the mouth. Clearly forgetting their audience, and only pulling away after Graces gave a little eep of surprise. "Malfoy, you wonderful, wonderful girl we won!"
Graces nodded shyly, blushing crimson and touching her mouth delicately with her fingers.
"Graham!" Draco shouted high above in the air. "I am going to hex your balls off if I see you kiss my sister like that again!"
"I shall make sure you don't see, then!" Graham called back smiling, but placing Graces down, so that he could grab Draco off of the shoulders he was riding on and embrace him as well. "I swear Malfoy, I could kiss you too over this!"
"Please don't," Draco rasped, as the muscular boy crushed him harder between his chest.
Graces smiled at the scene, and then shot a glance up towards the Gryffindor stands to see Neville watching over the barrings.
"Malfoy!" Graces turned and saw Professor Snape striding towards her. "Come here, we are going to the hospital wing to get that arm taken care of."
Graces looked over to the stands where the families were now starting to come down and hesitated.
"Your mother will be here after, you silly girl, but you are coming with me now to take care of that arm," Snape insisted, now looming over her. "I already spoke to her. It will just be a few minutes."
"Can't she come with me?" Graces asked, moving on her toes to see her mother.
"I wasn't aware that you needed your mummy when you were injured," Snape sneered. "Want her to come and kiss away the pain?"
Graces blushed and followed Snape off the pitch, the potions master assessing her arm as they walked away.
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The crowd had finally died down over their win, and Draco managed to escape the assembly of pats on the backs, hugs and cheers and make it over to his mother whom he couldn't hold back from embracing warmly. Though he was shocked to find that his embrace was not met with the usual kiss to his cheek, and mutterings of how much he had grown. Instead his mother had flinched, the kind of flinch someone makes when they were hurt, the flinch he had just seen Graces make a dozen times as people rushed towards her and her arm was jostled.
Draco frowned and pulled away. "Mum?"
"Mrs. Malfoy," Nott greeted, coming up beside Draco. "How nice to see you again under much more pleasant circumstances."
Draco scowled and turned towards his mother. She had not made any mention in any of her letters that she had visited with Nott, and he knew for a fact that the last time she had visited with him, to his knowledge, was when Graces and he were still dating and the visit was exceptionally pleasant.
"When did you visit with Nott?" Draco asked.
"Just the other night," Nott answered. "We had… matters to discuss. I visited her along with a few other new members of our political party. She didn't tell you? How odd."
Draco tried to maintain himself, to not look as panicked as he felt, but he knew he wasn't succeeding. His mother continued to glare at Theodore, her blue eyes piercing his with no amount of fear, but Draco's eyes didn't hold such strength nor did the rest of his body. And Nott saw that.
"Well, I should leave family alone to reunite," Nott continued, taking Draco's mother's hand and grasping it courteously with both of his. "Always a pleasure, Mrs. Malfoy. I do hope I get to see more of you in times like this when celebrations are in order."
Draco turned and moved to take hold of Nott's shoulder, but before he could Narcissa took his hand in hers.
"Shall we take a stroll around the pitch, darling?" she asked pleasantly. "Your father used to take me for strolls around the pitch after his games. He would always insist on it. Said that he enjoyed showing me off to the other families here visiting." Draco watched as his mother smiled at the memory, moving her hand so she was holding his arm. "He always did like to show me off. I think that part of it was because he really had to win me over before I was his."
"Mum," Draco began, trying hard to ignore how his tongue was vibrating in his mouth. "Did-did Nott, did he.. did he hurt you?"
"How is your project coming along, darling?" Narcissa sidestepped pleasantly. "Do you need any kind of aid? I was made aware that your last attempt at finishing it didn't go over quite so well."
"Oh, Merlin," Draco choked, bending over and clutching at his mouth to keep from being sick. "Oh Gods. He did."
"Shhhh," Narcissa comforted, moving her arm under her son's chest and pulling him up. Embracing him tightly against herself, and allowing him a moment of weakness as he clung to her like the child he was. "It's okay, darling. It's fine. Nothing too bad. Nothing unforgivable."
"I'm s-sorry," Draco sobbed, hiding his face in her collar. "I'm so, so—"
"Nothing for you to be sorry about, my dragon. Nothing at all. Now calm down and sit up. I can't have you crying like this with people around. You're a Malfoy. We don't break down in front of an audience. Calm down."
Draco nodded, and stood up. Wiping his eyes with the ends of his sleeves, before facing his mother.
"Did anyone?"
"Nott, of course, saw, but no one else." Draco cursed at the news, and then quickly apologised as his mother shot him a disapproving glare.
"What did they do to you?" he asked darkly, staring into his mother's eyes and swearing vengeance.
"Like I said, nothing unforgivable. A whipping."
"He whipped you?" Draco growled lowly.
"Draco," the older woman began urgently, taking her son's face in the palm of her hands. "Now is not the time for vengeance. Now is the time to keep your head down and do the task that you were given and to watch your sister like a hawk," she added urgently. "Nott is not going to be on top forever. He is counting on you failing and our family being killed off. He is not counting on your success. Work towards success, Draco, and not vengeance. If you do that you shall see that vengeance will follow suit and be that much sweeter."
Draco knew his mother's words carried a great deal of wisdom, but at the moment it was all just noise. He wanted vengeance now. His whole body was vibrating with the need to tear Theodore Nott limb from limb for touching his mother.
"Nott is a stupid boy," Narcissa continued. "He hurt me out of anger and humiliation. He couldn't touch you, or your sister, so he went after me. He forgot who my sister is and what her standing is with the Dark Lord. I have it on good authority that he will not be pleased to hear about Nott acting without speaking to him. The Dark Lord doesn't know that you prevented him from hurting you, so this will seem like Nott is just going rogue, and while our Lord enjoys pain he doesn't enjoy silly boys that don't follow orders."
"And what if he doesn't care?" Draco hissed, tearing away from his mother. "What if Nott sells this as a way to motivate me to move faster?"
"Then your father will take care of this once he is released."
Draco bit the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from screaming that they could not rely on their father coming back. That they had to face the reality that they may never see him outside Azkaban ever again. This very well may be how their family was to operate now, him as the head trying to scramble to protect them, but he couldn't bring himself to shatter his mother's hopes.
Sons were raised to lose their fathers, but spouses were a different story. His mother and father had built a life together. They had raised children together and lived under the impression that they would die old surrounded by their grandchildren, comfortable, and with the reassurance that they had lived to their lives to the fullest. Draco imagined his mother had only thought that she would lose her husband tragically to death, or in old age, not have him ripped away like this.
"Look, here comes your sister. Let us put this away. All will be fine, there is no need to worry her so."
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Neville stood up in the stands and watched as Graces returned to the field, her arm wrapped up in a sling but not preventing her from running towards her mother and embracing her with her good arm.
"Neville," Hermione called, watching the scene as well. "Why are you still up here?"
"Just watching," Neville murmured, knowing that telling Hermione that he was waiting to see when Graces left the field so he would know how long to wait until seeing her would not go over well. "Must be nice to have family like that."
Hermione looked down at Graces as she animately talked to her mother, clearly asking if she had seen her highlights of the game as she kicked the open air and moved her good arm as though she were throwing a quaffle.
"I don't think I would envy Malfoy for having the parents she has," Hermione said cooly.
"Maybe not," Neville shrugged, continuing to look out.
The whole Higgs clan was now walking over to greet the small patch of blondes. Thomas ran ahead of his other cousins towards Graces and pulled her forward so his mother could take a photo of the two of them. From there all the other families joined in, the parents talking as the players caught up with older alumni and everyone took pictures together. Draco and Graces had both taken pictures together for their mother, and Draco had pulled Thomas in for a few shots as well as Blaise, Crabbe, Goyle and Graham. Then all the pictures stopped as a petite, dark-haired witch started walking on the field, a tiny blonde darting ahead of her as she clutched a blue bundle tightly to her.
"Who is she?" Hermione asked, as every single person swarmed around her to see the baby.
"Terrence Higgs' wife."
"Is he important?"
"No, not especially. He's the patriarch for the Higgs clan, but that's about it. Most of the people you see down there are Higgs. They're a very old pureblood family, very traditional too. They don't use any kind of birth control. They have dozens of children. Thus they have a huge family. I'm guessing this is only Thomas' immediate family, plus Terrence there as the patriarch and old alumnus." Neville stared down as Graces took the tiny bundle in her arms, and smiled softly at the sight. "Why did you ask?"
"Everyone is crowded around his wife and baby," Hermione commented, looking down as well at the scene. "I had figured he was important."
"Purebloods are just very into children. They're coveted," Neville explained, turning and facing Hermione who seemed to be very interested in this world beyond her. "You should hear my gran on the subject," he grinned. "The way she talks, I think she's expecting a ridiculous amount of grandchildren."
"Do you want a lot of kids?" Hermione asked, shifting her eyes over to Neville.
"I, uh, want them," Neville blushed, refocusing on watching Graces. "I'll probably allow my wife to decide on the amount though. I don't want her to feel pressured into bearing me children. I'll have to keep my gran from badgering her, but I really would be satisfied with however many she chose to give me."
"So long as she gives you a son," Hermione finished bitterly, clearly not liking how the pureblood families valued males over females.
"Sons carry the name," Neville defended. "It's not that we don't want daughters. I know for a fact Terrence down there was disappointed he didn't get a daughter. I overheard him at the Three Broomsticks talking about it. It's just that as a patriarch you need a son."
"What if you don't get a son?"
"I'll have a son," Neville said confidently.
"You can't know that," Hermione argued. "Let's say you don't have a son, then what do you do?"
"Nothing," Neville sighed, not at all liking how upset Hermione seemed to be getting. "I raise a daughter and hope she will keep my name and that she marries a man that is willing to allow one of his sons to have my last name. Though if they only have one son I don't see that happening."
"What are they doing now?" Hermione gasped, leaning over the edge.
"They're showing the baby magic," Neville chuckled, watching as Draco made sparks come out of his wand above the baby. "If your parents were magical they would have done the same with you. It's so the baby doesn't grow up frightened of things in the magical world."
"What if the baby touches the tip of the wand?" Hermione asked nervously.
"It will get a little shock and after a few times realize you don't touch wands that aren't your own, a good lesson for them to learn now rather than when they are five and daddy leaves his wand out on the kitchen table or something."
"Thomas what do you think you are doing?!" Terrence's wife screamed, moving away from Narcissa and over to her cousin who was currently placing her other son on his broom with him as everyone else fussed over the baby.
Thomas looked over at his cousin's wife and made a gesture that said without words: what does it look like I'm doing?
"No. Absolutely not! He's too little for brooms. Off!"
"Arella, my sweet," Terrence broke in, running forward. "It's just a little ride. He's with Thomas, it's fine."
"Fine? Did you not see the game? Graces and Draco almost ended up killing themselves on the field!"
"Yeah, because they were both being stubborn and reckless," Terrence laughed, wagging his finger over at the twins who just smiled and reminded him they caught the snitch. "Thomas is just taking him on a little flight around the field. Nothing will happen."
"Fine," Arella clipped, folding her arms about her tightly. "Fine, if you're okay with your son, your heir, spinning about on a broom then who am I to argue."
"Darling, he's com—"
"Don't you darling me, Terrence Higgs," the brunette continued, moving away as her husband took a step forward to hold her.
"How about if Draco rides with them?" Terrence offered, obviously trying to appease his wife. "Would that be better?"
Arella bit her lip for a moment, before turning towards the blonde boy.
"Draco, do you mind? I don't want to put you out."
"Don't mind at all," Draco smiled, placing his wand in his pocket and striding over confidently, swinging his leg over and mounting the broom in a fluid stream of motions..
"Not too high," Arella conditioned, adjusting Draco so he was closer to Thomas and holding the child as well. Neville imagined it was an awkward way to fly. The child in the front with Thomas' arms around him tightly as he gripped the broom, and Draco behind Thomas his hands on the tiny toddler as his arms braced around Thomas' middle. Both boys didn't seem to enjoy the positioning either. "Terrence," Arella called, looking over at her husband. "Will you fly under them?"
"Will it put your pretty head at ease?" The small witch simply nodded, and rushed over to kiss her husband soundly when he summoned an old broom over.
Neville wished he had had all this growing up. He never had anyone to take him up on a broom for a flight. He didn't particularly like flying, it made him nervous and frightened, but he wondered if that would have been different if he'd had a father that took him flying on his broom once in a while and a mother that fussed over his safety. His gran and great uncle Algie were both too old for such things by the time they got him, not to mention his gran was extremely protective of him as a child. He was the last, the last of their line and the last thing she had of his father.
Neville motioned Hermione towards the stairs, not particularly wanting to be caught watching the intimate gathering among the Slytherins and their families, and also knowing the sight of Hermione would not in any way be welcomed.
"Why aren't you with Ron and Harry?" he asked as they descended the stairs. Hermione shrugged and looked back over to where the purebloods were, before continuing on. "Everything okay?"
"Yes, everything's fine."
"And yet you are here with me and not with them," Neville commented, nodding and pursing his lips. "Yeah, that sounds like everything is fine." Hermione cleared her throat and just nodded.
"You don't have to tell me, Hermione. I suppose we all have secrets. You just look a bit upset."
"I—I just would rather not be around for Ron and Lavender's snogging fest, and Harry has been particularly moody lately. All he ever wants to discuss is Malfoy."
"So you chose to stay watching the Malfoys?" Neville chuckled, finding humor in how agitated Hermione appeared to be over all this.
"I just saw you lingering behind so I did as well," she explained quietly, walking alongside Neville in silence as they entered the castle. "All those people down there hate me, huh?"
"They don't know you, so they can't very well hate you."
"You know they don't need to know me to hate me," Hermione said bitterly.
Neville nodded. He wished he could deny that, that he could tell Hermione that they didn't actually hate her, but they did. It was misplaced, wrong and deplorable, but it was the truth. They hated her. Hermione could die tomorrow and none of them would care.
Including Graces…
I don't think she hates her as much as she lets on. It's probably an act. A lot of what she does is an act. She doesn't hate me. And she listens to muggle music.
"They wouldn't feel that way if they knew you, Hermione," Neville comforted gently. "They were raised with wrong beliefs. It's like they were brainwashed," he added. "Take it with a grain of salt. They hate me too."
"I just don't understand why," Hermione gritted, clearly torn between crying and screaming.
"Because you looked down on the field today and didn't know who they were by name. You didn't know what they were doing with a magical baby. You don't know their history, their customs, their culture, how to raise magical children. You're from the world that tried to burn us at the stake, a world where magic is feared, and they expect you to marry into this world and raise a magical child with the customs and etiquette you were raised with."
"Then why has there been no effort made to integrate me!" Hermione snapped. "Why was there no program to teach me these things or anyone to come into my life earlier than a month before I was expected to leave my world?!"
"Hermione, I didn't mean to say—"
"It's not fair! No one told me anything! I'm the best in my class. I work harder than anyone else! But no one has once offered to teach me about living in this world. No purebloods care to! We have muggle studies, but no pureblood etiquette class."
"There are reasons they wait until you are old enough to attend the school, Hermione. You have no idea what used to happen back when they would show up and tell parents that their new baby was magical." The bushy haired girl frowned and waited for Neville to go on. "The parents killed them, Hermione. They killed their little babies. Maybe not right away, but they eventually became frightened and killed them. They thought it was satanic. They would drown the baby in holy water. They believed they were possessed and "treated" them until the child eventually died. There was one group that was convinced that it wasn't their children. They were convinced their baby had been switched at birth by demons or fairies, and they would take the child and throw it in the fire believing that if they did so their child would return. The Ministry waited in order to give children a chance. An eleven year old is better able to defend themselves than an infant or toddler. Not to mention a Ministry official stays for a bit and talks to the parents trying to gauge whether or not the child could be left alone."
"You just saw how purebloods react to children. Like I said, children are coveted. They view muggles as the type of people that can kill their own children, a mortal sin in pureblood society. Blood is blood. Killing a child is evil, but killing your own child is beyond salvation."
"It was dark times," Hermione exclaimed. "It wasn't—"
"Hermione, I may not be like Slytherin purebloods, but I can't see an excuse for that."
"They thought the children were evil. They were wrong, but they were raised in a church that—"
"No," Neville cut off. "Even if I knew without a doubt my child would be the next Dark Lord, I wouldn't touch a hair on his or her head. It's your child, and I would die defending my child, right or wrong."
I'm not saying it's justifiable!" Hermione exclaimed. "I'm just trying to explain where it came from, why it happened."
"The thing is, Mione. This is an example of why they view you differently. None of us raised in this world would care the reasoning. No one would care to try and understand it. It would never happen here."
"So child abuse doesn't happen here. Is that what you are trying to say?"
"When child abuse happens here the penalty is death," Neville stressed slowly. "It happens, and when it does it is met with cries of immediate prosecution. Abusing a magical child endangers all of society, it is not taken lightly."
"So you're saying they have reasons to hate me," Hermione reiterated, angry tears welling up.
"That is not what I am saying. I am saying that they were raised with stories like that, and are therefore very misguided on what it is like to be from the muggle world," Neville corrected. "Hermione, I do not think anything about you like that. I have never looked down on you for being muggleborn. You are a witch to me just as Graces Malfoy is. Completely equal."
Neville jumped back as Hermione lunged forward and began hugging him tightly, burying her face in his chest as she hiccuped a sob.
"I—I just feel… I feel so alone sometimes."
"You're not," Neville comforted. "You're not."
"It was odd seeing them like that. Together, all those different families talking and being together when my family never could be here like that, would never be looked at as equals like that. In Diagon Alley they're met with looks, sneers or just curiosity, but never interacted with like that. Even with my friends I don't know things. Ron has to explain. Or Lavender and Parvati laugh and explain it to me like I should already know. Harry is the only one that understands, but he isn't called a mudblood. It's like I'm still considered lower. Potter is known, Granger is…"
Neville just nodded, and continued holding her, silently wondering how he became the person people started crying to as Hermione continued on.
"You're different now," Hermione said quietly after a while.
"How so?"
"I don't know. You're… more confident? More at ease it seems. Not all the time, but a lot of the time."
"Hmmm," Neville hummed. "Come on, lets get going. I'm sure there is a party going on, despite our loss, and I think you are in need of something to cheer you up."
Please don't forget to review follow! It's a huge help to me to know what you all like! Also, thank you to noon297 for messaging me about the French being incorrect in this chapter. I just revised it and uploaded the chapter again. I'm sure my other French readers greatly appreciate you for brining this to my attention, noon297 :)
Okay, guys, be prepared shit is about to go down in the next chapter…