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: Big thank you to my beta Denarii for editing the chapter! And my BF Aleah for reading it over for me!

Special thanks to Bharm, Candyluver2121, Manoirmalfoys, noone297, Guest, Phoenix, bekkivobekki, Lizzy B, OzeraBand, blahicantthinkofaname, and Blue Luver5000 for their reviews!

Chapter 34

If Neville wanted space, Graces was hell bent on giving him space. What did she care anyways if he wanted space? He was just a fling, some bloke she fancied and enjoyed sleeping with. It was just off-putting at first, a shock. She had never expected for Neville to demand space from her like that. He always was trying to have more time with her and now all of the sudden he didn't even want to see her.

Because your brother is a Death Eater.

So is my father. So is my aunt.

Draco carries more weight with your future and you know it.

Graces swallowed hard at the emotion building in her throat and finished putting on her earrings.

"Are you okay?" Pansy asked, spritzing herself generously with a floral perfume.

"Never better," Graces snipped.

"You just seem... blah."

"Blah…" Graces repeated, turning and staring at her friend. "That's the word you want to use? Blah? Not down, crestfallen, dejected, low-spirited, morose, despairing, despondent or any other of the worthy words in the english language—including the word sad—you want to say blah?"

"I have some choice words to call you right now," Pansy quipped raising a challenging eyebrow at her friend. "Would you like to hear those?" Graces didn't respond, instead she just continued to glare at the dark haired girl before her. "Listen, Gray, I love you to pieces. You know I do, but I refuse to deal with your moodiness and your brother's at the same time. We as a house cannot deal with two Malfoys in foul moods. So whatever happened yesterday to upset you, you better resolve. Now, you can resolve it with me as your best friend there for you, or you can continue to be a loner, but you will resolve it and stop snapping at all of us."

It was true. There was no doubt that Graces had been short with her housemates since waking up in the barn. It was just so hard for her to pretend like nothing happened, like nothing was happening. She was secluding herself from her friends, and she knew it. She was not eating meals with them, not studying with them, wanting to be alone when walking to class and ignoring them when they called out to her in the common room. Just last night Thomas had waved her over and she pretended to not see.

And all of that was without mentioning that she was scared to face Nott. She just couldn't stomach even the thought of seeing him. She couldn't hex him, or even accuse him of what she knew he had done. She would have to sit there and pretend as though nothing happened. It wasn't right. She shouldn't have to sit there pretending all was well, when it wasn't.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, closing her eyes and tiredly putting her forehead in her hand.

"You are?" Pansy asked astounded, before catching herself. "I mean, yes of course you are. As you should be." Graces nodded, and continued to stare off. "Do you want to talk to me about it?"

"No," Graces sighed. "I just can't talk to you about it, Pans."

"Oh… that kind of stuff."

"Yeah, that kind of stuff."

"Draco will be fine," Pansy comforted, moving to sit with her. "He will be. He's strong, remember when he got attacked by that hippogriff?"

Graces scowled, and wondered if Pansy was being serious. She looked over and saw that she was.

Love is so blind…

"I'm hungry," Graces decided, wanting desperately to change the subject. "Lets go to breakfast."

"Really? You're going to go join the living?"

"I suppose if I must," Graces smiled, grabbing her bag off her trunk.

"Draco will be happy. I think he's missed you during meals. He's been disappearing so much after though."

"He's busy," Graces shrugged. "Come on, let's head down."

Pansy was right. Draco had missed her. The moment she had descended from the stairs her brother was by her side, as though he had been waiting in the common room for her. Graces felt a strong surge of guilt as she looked at her brother. He was a mess. It was obvious he was a mess, and she had been so concerned about herself and her woes she had forgotten how much he must need her.

"I have to quit the team," he said quietly as they took their seats to eat. He grabbed some toast and avoided her eyes, clearly worried over how she would take the news.

"I'm out for probably the rest of the season," Graces informed, offering him a small smile.

Draco frowned and looked at her arm. "The sling is off, I thought it all healed."

"I damaged the tendon when it was still healing from the potion," Graces said quietly. "Pomfrey had to go in and heal it again, but there is a lot of scar tissue now. It's sensitive. I have to lay off it for a year."

"Would you like for me to arrange for our family healer to take a look at it?" Draco asked, putting some jam on the piece of toast.

"No, it's fine. It all seemed pretty standard." Draco nodded, and placed the toast on Graces plate. "Thanks."

"Just let me know if you change your mind. Never hurts to get a second opinion."

Graces nodded and nibbled at a bit of the toast, trying very hard not to look over to Neville.

"Are you busy tonight?" she asked. "I thought maybe we could spend some time together." Immediately after she asked Graces realized that time with her brother was no longer an option. He was taking Nott seriously now, and that meant he was doing everything in his power to ensure that he was always seen attending to the task. Spending time with her was definitely not something Nott would approve of. "I could just come with you, if you have plans," she offered hopefully.

"Or you could finish my potions essay for me," Draco suggested with a grin.

Graces tried to put on a brave face and nod along. The rest of breakfast was like that. A series of fake emotions that she and Draco passed to one another. An encouraging smile here, a pathetic attempt at humor there, a facade of who they thought they should be to one another. Both knew that if they were to sit there and actually discuss their situation they would break down. And during that time, where she was pretending that all was well, she missed Neville.

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Neville didn't know how he was going to accomplish maintaining space away from Graces, but he was determined to do so. He needed this. He had to think about what he was doing. He had been so naive before. He loved Graces, there was nothing that could change that, but he needed to figure out if he could continue acting on it.

He would, of course, continue ensuring her safety. He would allow her to keep the ring, and he would also keep a close eye on Nott, but being with her, allowing himself to fall more in love with her, when he knew full well now that there was no way they could be together… It wasn't just her family separating them. He now didn't know how to see her separate from them. She wasn't a Death Eater, but she would be now. If Draco was one, she would follow. Neville had no doubt in his mind about that. He could have seen her jumping ship from her father's mistakes, but she wouldn't from Draco's. She would stay by his side regardless of the outcome.

He looked up from his desk to glance at her. She was up in the front of the potions class, glued to her brother's side. They moved as a unit, neither needing to speak as they continued their potion together. He would move his chin a little that way and she would nod and hand him a vial. She would heave a sigh and he would take the pedestal and grind the rest of the ingredient for her. There was no way for him to love her without adding Draco to the mix. If he cared about her he had to care for him. A Death Eater.

Neville turned his head down, back to his work, as Snape approached him. He tried to remain calm as the man towered over him. He knew what he was doing now, and he reassured himself through every step that he was correct. Don't let him get to you. He chanted to himself again and again, as Snape sneered at this and scoffed at that.

As Neville allowed the cauldron to simmer for a few minutes he wondered about Snape's relation to Graces. He had saved her life. He had been there when she was born, and probably held her and gave her some concoction of his to make her healthy. Snape was responsible for her being in this class right now. He wondered if he thought of that when he saw her walking in the halls. Her existence was thanks to him. Neville imagined that Lucius Malfoy had the best healers in the room for his children when they were being brought into this world, and for whatever reason they weren't able to help his wife and daughter. But Snape was. This man standing over him now was the reason the woman he loved was standing across the room from him, this hateful man right beside him.

Snape had never shown any kind of affection towards Graces, though. He had never witnessed any kind of action on his part to indicate he cared for the life he had saved. Graces had even said he was a neglectful godfather. He didn't do any of the duties required of him. Was it possible that Snape separated himself from the Malfoys because of Lucius? He was after all tried as a Death Eater shortly after Graces and Draco's birth, but Dumbledore had vouched for him. Did Snape not want anything to do with such a family, and thus when given the title decided it best not to become attached to the daughter of a Death Eater?

"Is there something you would like to say, Mr. Longbottom?" Snape growled lowly, his beak nose almost touching Neville's.

Neville jumped, he had not even realized he had dazed out staring at Snape.

"No, I… uh… I'm sorry. I, uh, just—"

"Would you please just desist from that blathering, and bottle your potion?" Snape snapped, moving over to his desk and announcing that he wished for the rest of the class to do the same.

Neville breathed a sigh of relief as Snape moved away, and quickly began filling a vial.

"Neville?" Oh, great. "Everything okay?" Hermione asked concerned.

"Fine," Neville dismissed.

"Why were you staring at Snape?"

"I just dazed out," Neville muttered, walking away before Hermione could ask him any more questions and setting his vial down on Snape's desk.

"I'm impressed." Neville's mouth dropped at Snape's proclamation, and before he could think he looked over to Graces whose eyes had widened considerably, as well as sent a glance of excitement over to him before looking forward again. "Miss Malfoy, it would seem you have managed to do the impossible. A hundred points to Slytherin."

"What!" Harry and Ron exclaimed from the back. "Neville did the work," they both cried out outraged.

"I think it could be argued that Miss Malfoy did the work," Snape retorted silky, a small smile curling at the end of his lips.

"No, I—" Graces immediately shut her mouth as the potions master sent her a glare.

"I'm sorry Miss Malfoy, what were you saying?"

"Thank you, sir," Graces murmured quietly, looking forward and avoiding even the slightest glance at Neville.

"Damn it, Graces. Now I have to pay Thomas nine galleons," Blaise groaned.

"You doubted her ability?" Draco laughed, proudly putting his arm around his twin.

"It's Longbottom!" Blaise exclaimed. "It wasn't so much doubting her ability as it was doubting his capacity."

Neville blushed and looked down as the Slytherin's all began laughing around him. Part of him, the part of him that held masochistic tendencies, wanted to glance up and see if Graces was laughing as well, putting on a show for all to see, but he made himself not look. He walked despondently back to his desk, heaving a sigh as Gryffindor lost a hundred points for raising their voices as his roommates all tried vainly to stick up for him.

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The next day Graces was practically sitting on the edge of her seat waiting for Neville to arrive to herbology. Yesterday's potion class was… well, not good. It was silly, but the whole night she had stressed over Neville's thoughts on what had happened. Did he blame her? He shouldn't. She didn't ask for the points and she had not said anything about his previous lack of talent in potions.

You did laugh with everyone…

I had to.

Graces closed her eyes and heaved a silent sigh to the heavens. She had ran out of chocolate last night and now her anxiety was through the roof. She had angrily sworn that she was going to give Neville space, but as the night passed on restlessly that determination had withered away. She didn't want to be angry with Neville, and she didn't want him to be angry with her. Especially over the potions incident.

She wondered if Neville would come early to class. She hoped he would, no one was there at the moment, not even Sprout and the isolation would allow them a few moments to talk. She took a deep breath and prayed he would come early. Her prayers were answered as a moment later Neville entered the classroom. He stopped for a moment at seeing her standing there, clearly waiting for him, before turning his head down and walking over.

"Longbottom, I—"

"Do you mind if I take the left side," Neville interrupted, still avoiding her gaze.

"Wh-what?" Graces asked perplexed.

"The left side. Can I have the left side of the desk."

Graces eyes trailed to Neville's left arm clutching his rucksack tightly, and nodded her head. Space. He still wanted space, so much so that he didn't want to risk his arm brushing against hers as he wrote. When she looked up Neville was staring at her, impatiently waiting for her reply.

"Of course, I-I just need to move my things," she breathed, mechanically turning and starting to rearrange the desk. Biting the inside of her cheek to try to maintain herself, she dropped and fumbled as she moved everything, noting that Neville made no attempt to try and help her. By the time she had finished she slumped in her seat examining the black ink stain on her sleeve from when she knocked her inkwell over. She prayed that Neville was still avoiding looking at her, so that she could at least have the comfort that he would not see the fluster that had seeping into her cheeks. Slowly, she began to regain herself. Sitting up, she started rolling up her sleeves to hide the stain.

When she finished she forced herself to fold her hands on the table and wait for class to begin. She wanted to be the way she was before. She wanted to stare forward into the class and not allow her eyes to wander anywhere as people began trickling in. She was a Malfoy. She was Graces Bellatrix Malfoy: elegant, confident, smart and pureblood. She didn't need Neville Longbottom to pay her attention. She didn't need anyone. And yet despite her reassurances, as the class took their seats, her eyes peeked over to Neville who was staring at her left hand.

"I'm wearing it," she murmured, answering the unspoken question. Neville merely nodded, before looking forward again. "Do you want it back?"

"No, I don't want it back."

"Right," Graces said slowly. "What you want is space," she scoffed, rolling her eyes. Neville sent her a quick, nervous glance, before looking forward again. If anything it just infuriated the blonde more. Here she was standing next to him wearing his mother's ring on her left hand and he was just insisting on not even looking at her. Anger began to bubble up again inside her as she gave more thought to it. Neville began flipping through his herbology book as though she didn't exist and Graces had to grind her teeth to keep herself from pulling out her wand and hexing him.

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"I won't turn away, Graces. I won't ignore anything about you to make you more appealing, because I truly want to know you." Neville stilled as he heard his words coming from Graces mouth. "You are so much more than a pawn that is being played by a psychopath, and I can remember that." There was a long silence, a silence that Neville felt was sucking the air from the room making it harder and harder to breathe. "What a load of Gryffindor bullshit," Graces growled bitterly.

Neville bit the inside of his cheek as Graces' words triggered the memory of being alone in that classroom with her. He had said that, word for word. She had said she was going to be a Death Eater and he had sworn he didn't care.

"I take it you want to do the practical work separately today," Graces clipped frostily, taking half of the touch-me-nots and moving them over to the side. Neville watched her for a moment as she went over to the front of the class and picked up a bag of dragon manure, wrinkling her nose at the bag, and flinching slightly as she heaved it up. He moved to go help her, but the moment he took a step she looked over and sent him the darkest of looks.

He had in a way betrayed her. It had been easy to say those words to her, so easy to tell her that he wanted to know things before knowing. She had been right when she warned him that he couldn't unknow something and he had pushed and pushed until he knew.

It's good I know. I have an idea of what is going on. I can protect her now.

You can barely look at her.

Neville forced himself to look over at Graces, and his heart immediately ached to be near her. He wanted to go over to her, pull her into him and tell her he was sorry, that none of it mattered, and kiss her soundly, but he couldn't. He couldn't for many reasons. Other people were around, Graces would never allow such an offer when she was this mad and it would be a lie. It did matter. It mattered for so many reasons. It wasn't her. Neville loved her. It was her family, and his self-preservation. Death was one thing. Neville had no problem risking his life for those he cared about, but his heart was another thing altogether. Maybe it was cowardly, but he just couldn't do it.

His heart was already being torn apart by Graces. How could he allow it to be butchered anymore than he had already allowed. His whole life he had to suffer through the heartache of loving people out of his reach. He had loved his parents despite their inability to be what he needed. His gran and great uncle were the only two people he had that could love him the way he so desperately craved, and he was aware that they would not be around forever. He thought Graces could grow to love him the way he loved her. That they could have one another.

"Tell me, Longbottom," Graces queried gently, her voice lacking the harshness it usually maintained, "What would come of that, of us getting to know one another? Nothing has changed because of what we did. I am still well on my way to being a Death Eater. What good would come from us fancying one another? Honestly, would you want to introduce me to your gran, after what my aunt has done to her only son? Or better yet, do you think that I could ever be civil to your mudblood friends like Granger? Nothing can come from what we did. Fairy tales are a myth, Longbottom, stories of fiction to make good little boys and girls stay innocent as long as possible before they are slapped across the face with reality and tossed into the big, bad, real world. The hero doesn't alwayswin and the good guy doesn't always get the girl. These stories you have heard growing up are nothing but lies. This is reality. You're an heir. Your family is expecting you to marry a sweet, light witch from a respectable light family that will bear you a sweet, light heir to continue your legacy. And I have expectations as well. Family is everything, Longbottom. The real key to immortality, and I will not hurt mine. We could never possibly grow to fancy one another."

Neville shook his head, as though he could get the memories of Graces' warnings away. For days he had remembered all the warnings she gave him. Not an hour passed by where he didn't groan at what a fool he had been. He should have walked away when Graces first told him to. He should have agreed that they could never grow to fancy one another and—

She did grow to fancy you though. Do you really regret this? Do you regret evenings filled with laughter, corny herbology and potion jokes, discussions on the dangers of hay? Do you regret knowing how her skin feels against your lips? Do you regret that you know how she enjoys being held or how it feels when she sighs against your chest? Would it have been worth never knowing she liked Shakespeare or that she bites her lower lip when nervous? Because when you believe you should have walked away at the beginning you are believing that none of that was worth anything.

Neville paused in his work. Did he believe that? He stared down at the plant he was supposed to be tending to, the touch-me-not. Mimosa Pudica. Gently he caressed the leaves and smiled quietly to himself as they closed to the touch. He had always loved touch-me-nots. When he was younger he would sit for hours petting the plant and watching the leaves fold together. He had felt like he was performing some sort of spell. After a single touch the leaves would fold in on themselves and disappear for a few minutes and in that time he would make believe that he was a powerful wizard.

All day he would have to see the fear in his Gran's eyes that he was a squib. Oh she would pretend everything was grand in his presence, but you can't hide that kind of fear. He would lay awake at night and listen as his Uncle tried to comfort her that he was just a late bloomer and he would show accidental magic as he grew older. But in his garden he didn't have to deal with any of that. In his garden he was magical. Things would grow, leaves would hide at his touch, he could make spores fly through the air just by breathing. He loved gardening.

Graces made him feel like he was a child back in his garden pretending he was a wizard. Only with her it was real. She made him feel at ease. She made him laugh. She made him feel like a man. She was his garden in life, only she was the one tending to him and making him grow. Never before had he felt so gloriously happy and comfortable in his own skin. He loved her for all that she was and all that she made him to be. And that was worth everything. He didn't regret not walking away.

Great, now that we have established that we only have a million other things to figure out.

It's a start though. Neville thought, looking over to Graces and watching as she struggled to keep the pods on the plant from breaking. I don't regret not walking away. I don't regret knowing her. I don't regret loving her. It's a start. I just need to figure out if I can continue to do this to myself and what to do from there.

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Graces sat in the library pretending to read a book. In all reality she hadn't gotten past the second paragraph. She just sat there staring at the letters on the page rotating the ring on her left hand, and thinking about Neville. Neville who didn't say a word to her all day. Neville who didn't look at her. Neville who was out the door immediately after class was dismissed. Neville who she missed and hated at the moment.

You don't hate him.

Graces let out a long sigh. She didn't. She understood why he needed space and why he was going to choose to walk away from her. But that didn't change the fact that it hurt. She had tried to push him away, and he had insisted on being there, and now that she actually wanted him there and needed him to stay he was going to leave.

You knew this would eventually end.

I didn't think it would end now, Graces snapped inwardly. I thought it would end when I was killed for Draco's failures or when I took the mark to be a Death Eater. I didn't expect it to end like this.

Is this now serious?

He's my friend. The only good thing I have in my life to look forward to at the end of the day. He's… he's my friend, my friend who I enjoy shagging and fancy a bit, Graces added quickly.

A bit?

Fine. A lot. It's serious in that he's my good friend and I really need him right now.

What you really need right now is to finish this chapter so you can write both your and Draco's potions essay.

Graces nodded and with newfound determination began to read. She had pushed through the first page of note writing and was beginning on the second when a shadow appeared over her desk. She stopped in her dictations and held her breath in apprehension only to be disappointed as she noticed the shadow did not belong to Neville. Slight frame, bushy hair, and not at all the height Neville's shadow would have been at. Granger.

The blonde inwardly groaned at the thought of talking to the school's know-it-all, and decided to just continue with her work as though the girl wasn't there. Sadly though, Hermione didn't take the hint and continued to make small sounds to try to notify Graces of her presence. It was at about the third time that Hermione cleared her throat that Graces decided to say something.

"I am well aware of your presence, Granger," she informed coldly. "I am just choosing to ignore it."

"I need to talk to you about something," Hermione said, determined.

Graces knew the annoying girl wasn't going to take the hint, but she still applauded herself on the good try.

"And I need you to get out of my light," Graces countered, still not looking up at the girl, and casually flipping a page of her text book. She exhaled agitatedly as Hermione pulled out the seat across from her and sat. The two of them glared at one another for a few moments before Hermione spoke.

"You're very beautiful."

"I'm not interested," Graces deadpanned, returning to her book.

Hermione ignored Graces' statement, and just continued on.

"I'm sure you must realize the effect you have on, well, men, and I just wanted you to be a bit more cautious of when you are alone with certain individuals," Hermione said, inwardly cheered as she realized Graces was now giving her her full attention. Her silver eyes were boring into her warning that she better tread lightly. "And I'm sure you wouldn't want to give anyone the wrong impression."

"Wrong impression," Graces repeated, a knife's edge to her words.

"You know," Hermione went on nervously. "Make them think you're interested when you're not…" Hermione could feel the air tensing around them, and decided that she should just get to the point. "The thing is Neville has a, well, a bit of a crush on you and I just want to make sure he doesn't get hurt. He's a good guy: kind, thoughtful, caring and he can be sensitive, so I don't want him being hurt," Hermione repeated again nervously.

"You don't think that he would be hurt to know that you, one of his so-called friends decided to tell his crush about his private affections towards them?" Graces quipped with a raised eyebrow, leaning back in her chair while savoring Hermione's reddening cheeks. "You're so thoughtful."

"I'm just trying to look out for him," Hermione defended. "Neville is a great guy and I know that you're not interested in him and—"

"Who says I wouldn't be interested?" Graces asked calmly, folding her book and looking Hermione square in the eyes.

Hermione blanked at Graces words and sat there awkwardly. Graces had a knack for making her feel unnerved. Unlike Draco she could sit perfectly still and not say a word and make her feel little. Draco used words to do that and Graces used presence, much like her father.

"Yeah," Hermione scoffed. "Like you would be interested in Neville."

"Of course, why wouldn't I be. After all you just said Longbottom is a good man. A girl would have to be out of her mind to not want a good man. Especially one that has such funny herbology jokes. Who wouldn't want Neville Longbottom?"

"Just keep away from him," Hermione growled, thinking of all the ways Graces could lead Neville on just to hurt him in the end for fun.

"Now Granger, why on earth would I do that? We just established that Longbottom is a sweet, kind and noble man that wants me. Why would I keep away from him? If anything, I should be doing more to entice him."

The two girls stood there staring at each other challengingly. Hermione knew Graces was enjoying this, that she found the whole situation laughable. She was now wondering if this had been a mistake. She had thought that Graces would have been uncomfortable with Neville liking her and thus would try to avoid so many tutoring sessions with him. But now she realized that is just what she would have done. Graces Malfoy was a monster, and monsters rarely cared about what kind of damage they did.

"You don't deserve a man like Neville," Hermione declared, her voice shaking from emotion. "Just leave him alone."

"What do you know about entitlement?" Graces spat, now standing from her seat. "You disgusting mudblood. You don't deserve to be here. This isn't your world. We are not your people. You are a weed in a flower bed. You poison all the roots around you, and prevent us from growing strong. You may look like one of us, you may act like one of us, but you are not one of us." Hermione held her breath as Graces loomed over her panting. "Don't you ever tell me what to do. I am a witch and I will do as I like."

"I'm a witch too," Hermione growled, trying her best not to be intimidated or start crying out of anger.

"You're magical," Graces smirked wickedly, turning Hermione's chair out and bracing herself on each arm as she leaned in. "I'll give you that. But you are no witch. You're just a mousy know-it-all mudblood. You and I are not the same. We are fundamentally different. I am better than you. I belong here. At the end of the day you are just a muggle girl thrown into a strange world." Hermione shivered as Graces leaned down so that her lips were barely touching her earlobe. "And I am home."

Hermione pushed Graces away and sidestepped to the other side of a desk, shaking like a leaf despite herself.

"Get away from me," she hissed.

Graces just smiled and moved around the desk like an animal stalking it's prey.

"You keep away from me, and I shall keep away from you," Graces stipulated, smirking as she retook her seat. Hermione pursed her lips and started to walk away, knowing that there was really no talking to the blonde before her. "Same for Longbottom," Graces added, causing the bushy haired girl to look back. "If he keeps away from me, I shall keep away from him." Graces gave a little satisfied smile as she saw Hermione's face tighten. "But as you mentioned, I am aware of the effect I have on men."

Graces didn't realize that she had been shaking, but as she relaxed and brought her hand up to open her book she noticed the slight tremor. She didn't know what had upset her more, the confrontation with Granger, or being reminded that Neville liked her, and that right now she could lose all that.

I think we both know what it is that has you upset.

And with that thought she placed her head in her hands and sobbed for her potential loss.

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