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 doing it earlier to boot! And my BF Aleah for reading it over for me and demanding I expand more on the ending. haha

Special thanks to galyardt, iamacola, Candyluver2121, blahicantthinkofaname, Bharm, Blue Luver5000, Manoirmalfoys, haema, Gaia-sama, and noone297 :D

Chapter 36

Neville took in a deep breath as he approached his desk with Graces. One day. All he had to do was get through one more class with her and it would be the weekend. He could spend some time away from her, clear his head and make a decision about what to do by Monday. He just needed to get through this class.

"Good morning," Graces said awkwardly, glancing at him before looking forward. Neville nodded, but didn't repeat the greeting. "Listen, I know you still want your space, but I just wanted to thank—"

"Can we please just not talk right now?" Neville requested, getting his notes out.

"You don't want to discuss anything about yesterday?" Graces asked, a hint of hurt in her voice.

"No, I don't," Neville maintained, placing his papers down and sighing. "Your brother and friend are both idiots for drugging you, but other than that—"

"What are you talking about?" Graces frowned. "They didn't drug me. I just fell asleep in the hall."

Neville stared at Graces for a few moments. Surely she was told wasn't she?

"I think you need to talk to your brother," Neville muttered, looking forward. He didn't need to be looking at Graces to know she was devastated. Draco was her everything. He was her hero, her friend, her savior, her shoulder to lean on. He was so much more than just her brother, and hearing that he had drugged her, that he had conspired to do so with her friend, would naturally be a hard blow.

Unable to keep himself from worrying, he looked over to see how Graces was taking the news. She didn't seem like she was. She looked as though she wasn't quite processing what he had just said. She looked confused and disoriented, so much so that Professor Sprout was beside her thinking she just wasn't understanding the instructions. It was obvious that each word the Professor said was just going in one ear and out the other. Graces was trying to juggle her own thoughts and was being overwhelmed.

"I-I have it, Professor. Thank you," Graces dismissed, her voice sounding as though it had been scratched. Professor Sprout sent him a wayward glance before nodding unsurely and walking over to the next desk.

Graces breathed a sigh of relief that the professor had finally left her. It was easier to grab a hold of herself without someone fussing over her every move. It was all so unreal. Draco drugged her. He drugged her, and from what it sounds like Thomas must have known. They had both told her that they had gone looking for her in the halls the other night, worried sick, and that they found her asleep with Longbottom and Thomas taking her somewhere. Then after they told her about how dangerous it was for her to be falling asleep like that they had convinced her to allow them to give her a sleeping draught at night, until she started to sleep better. They lied to her. She had never denied herself sleep to the point of passing out. They had drugged her. But the oddest part of this whole scenario was that she didn't think twice before believing Neville over them.

Neville had become her closest friend. He probably thought she told him very little, but in reality she told him more than anyone else. These days she couldn't even be honest with Draco about how she felt, but she revealed more to Neville. She allowed him to see her at her weakest moments, and she, in her own way, relied on him.

She wished he would look at her. But he didn't. He focused on his work and pretended she didn't exist. She was nothing, isolated in a world full of life. She wanted to open her mouth and tell him that she needed him, that she wanted him, that he was the only joy in her life and, although it was pathetic, he was the only friend she could talk to, but nothing came out.

She couldn't say any of it. And it wasn't because of the people around them, she could talk low enough to not be heard. She couldn't say it because she could hardly admit it to herself let alone out loud.

As Neville began packing up to leave she felt the familiar grip of longing take hold of her. It was so strong, she knew he would leave as quickly as possible. A blur of color as he darted to the door.

"Can-can you just pack slowly, please?"

Graces watched as Neville stilled at her pathetic request. A huge part of her was horrified at what she had just done, but she was beginning to not care. Neville was still there and if he did pack slowly it would be worth it for the few more moments she gained with him.

But he didn't stay. Instead he grabbed his bag and left. Not bothering to even pack all of his possessions

Neville pushed through the crowded halls of the castle. A blur of students and outraged calls were around him, but he just burrowed through. Determined to get away from it all to think.

Nothing was getting easier. There didn't seem to be a right answer. Logically he needed to stay away from Graces Malfoy. Not only to protect his heart, but to protect his family who would all be put in jeopardy if he got involved with a girl whose whole family was under the threat of death. But his heart didn't seem to want the protection from the girl it craved. It pounded in his chest for her. It longed for the small amount of time it spent near her, and it broke a little every time he tried to pull away from her.

Neville wondered if he was tearing away at his own soul being away from her. He was not acting like a good man. He was bitter and cruel. He sought isolation even though his friends crowded near to try and distract him from whatever was plaguing him. He despised his duty to his family and had been refusing to write back to his gran on important matters. All he did these days was curse fate for making the woman of his dreams a Malfoy.

Neville leaned behind a large statue and tried to keep from crying as Graces' small request repeated again and again in his head. He should have stayed. She needed him. He should have stayed.

"Draco!"

Neville froze as he heard Graces' voice call out from somewhere in the distance. He looked around, but the hall he was in was empty. They must be in the next hall over, he thought already moving out from the statue to see the encounter. Neville peeked around the corner to see both twins arguing heatedly. Draco was obviously not pleased with Graces angrily shouting at him, and was doing his best to not show any sort of emotion as she continued to berate him. It wasn't until Graces raised her hand and smacked him hard across the face did Draco show any hint of emotion.

Neville winced as Draco cranked his neck forward and stared at his sister a red angry hand print stained on his skin. He was determined. If Graces was expecting an apology for his actions, it was obvious in that moment she was not going to get one. Draco obviously felt that what he had done had been the right decision, and when Graces smacked him again he didn't flinch, by the third time she raised her hand he caught her wrist and said something so quietly that even the people around him didn't seem able to hear. Graces tore her hand away and began stomping away only pausing to look at Thomas for a moment with the same amount of fury she had shown Draco. The young boy looked down from Graces' stare though, clearly unable to hide his shame.

Neville felt bad for Higgs, as Graces made a sound of disgust and walked away, unlike Draco he didn't appear able to hide how badly he felt. For a moment he wondered if the small boy was going to go running after her, but Draco gave him a stern look and after that he headed up a staircase to his class. The rest of the hall began to clear out as well, but Draco did not continue down with any of the other herds of students. Instead he turned towards the hall that Neville was in.

Neville pressed himself between the castle wall and the statue, praying that Draco wouldn't notice his shadow along the floor. After he heard the blond's footsteps pass by he slowly emerged from his hiding spot and, in a typical Gryffindor split decision, followed him.

I'm turning into Harry. What the hell am I doing? Neville thought as he shadowed Draco all the way up to the second floor. A shiver went down his spine as he realized they were almost to the girl's lavatory where the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets was hidden. We're not seriously going in there. Come on, Draco. Don't go in there. Don't go in there. Don't go—Of course. Of course you would go in there.

Neville stared at the entrance and wondered if he wanted to know what it was Draco was doing in there. Graces had said Draco had a task, was his task having to do with the Chamber? If he went in there would he find out? Did he want to find out?

Neville groaned inwardly as he quietly opened the door and stepped into the bathroom.

Draco's sobs echoed off the marble walls and floors. Heaves of breaths were followed by rattled moans. Neville warily edged to the nearest stall and slipped inside, lifting his feet up to stand on the toilet so Draco wouldn't see.

"Are you okay?" Moaning Myrtle asked, staring down into the stall where Draco was.

"Better than you," Draco spat. "Go away."

"You're in my toilet, I can't go away." Draco groaned, and continued on with his crying. Each breath more wretched than the last.

"Can I ask you something?" Draco croaked.

"You can," Myrtle said pleasantly, clearly happy to have company.

"Did-did it hurt? You know... to die?"

"Oh, it was dreadful. The worst thing imaginable. I was in this stall, sitting where you are right now crying and—"

Myrtle stopped her tale as Draco began crying even harder. Neville wondered if he was actually choking on his sobs until he began speaking.

"Oh, Gods. Oh gods," he hiccuped. "What am I going to do? I don't want her to hurt. I don't want her to hurt. It's all my fault. I can't let her die, but I can't do it. I can't do it."

"Hey-hey, don't cry. It's okay," Myrtle tried to comfort.

"It's not okay. She hates me. She hates me right now, and she doesn't even realize how much I deserve it. She's mad at me for something stupid, she's mad at me for taking care of her, she has no idea she should be mad at me for killing her. My baby sister is going to die and it's because I'm too weak to do what needs to be done. I'm failing her. It was one thing when it was me. When they were bullying and hurting me all summer, but it can't happen to Graces. It can't. If they see her as weak… I can't let them think she's weak. They can't know she's fragile. They can't. I was just trying to get her to sleep. People are talking. They're talking and she doesn't even realize it."

Draco continued on with his babbling despite Myrtle howling that she had no idea what he was saying, that none of it made sense. It made sense to Neville though. Draco was failing at whatever task he was supposed to do, and Graces was the one that would pay for it. Now he understood why Draco had taken such actions to drug her. He didn't agree with it, he felt like he should have told Graces what was happening, but he understood it. He needed her to be stronger, and she wasn't acting strong.

"I don't know what to do," Draco moaned. "I don't know what to do."

"Just tell me what's going on and we can figure it out together," Myrtle said gently.

"I can't tell you," Draco whimpered. "I can't tell anyone. I'm alone."

Myrtle said nothing for the longest time. Both the ghost and Neville just stood there silently listening to Draco's crys. Neville was torn between getting up and knocking on Draco's stall door and trying to comfort him, but then he realized doing that may lead to a disastrous encounter.

I could tell Graces. She would surely want to know and—

Would you want that? Would you want someone going over your head as the patriarch? He's not telling her for a reason. It's not your place to tell her. It would be wrong. He's trying to be strong, and you are considering telling her he's not. This is Draco's family. He has the right to handle this situation.

He's saying she may die, surely she at least should know—

She does know. She said, "He is going to let Draco be killed and slaughter the rest of us." She knows, and I knew. What is wrong with me? Why don't I listen?

"It doesn't hurt." Neville raised his head as he heard Myrtle's gently voice. "Really it doesn't. It's like falling asleep, only you're a bit frightened. It didn't hurt, though."

"You don't need to lie to me," Draco rasped. "I can take the truth. I'm not a child."

"I'm not lying," Myrtle continued. "The fear is the worst part of it all, but other than that… It's nothing." There was a long silence, where the only noise was the faint sounds of Draco sniffing and take long breaths, clearly getting a hold of himself. "Do you feel better?"

"No, not really," Draco said numbly.

"Is your sister really going to die?"

"No," Draco declared, a bit of life coming back to his voice. "No, she won't. I'm not going to allow that. I just need to refocus that's all."

"You could tell me about whatever it is," Myrtle said shyly. "Really you could. I-I wouldn't tell a soul. I really don't have a soul to tell. You could talk to me."

"I really can't," Draco sighed sadly. "But, uh, thanks, I guess," he added awkwardly.

"You know… no one ever comes in here," Myrtle pointed out. "Well, Harry used to come in, but he stopped. He doesn't visit me. I asked him to. Multiple times, but I don't think he likes me very much."

"Potter is an idiot," Draco clipped harshly. "Don't let anything he does get to you."

"Yes, well, anyways, I was thinking maybe you could visit. I could listen to your worries, and you don't have to tell me everything, but you could just talk. I would like the company."

"Why did Potter come in?" Draco asked, sidestepping the invite.

"I can't tell you. It's a secret. I don't tell secrets."

"I see," Draco chuckled half-heartedly. "I should go. I have things I need to do."

"Oh, okay," Myrtle breathed sadly. "Well, good bye."

Neville watched as Draco emerged from the stall, he wiped his eyes for a moment and soothed his hair back down. He was about to walk away from Myrtle, who had descended down, but at the last minute he looked back and stared at her. Neville wished he could see more of Draco's face. However he was staring at Myrtle was making the ghost feel very awkward though. After a few moments more Draco continued walking away, stopping by the door.

"I'll come visit you, Myrtle," he promised quietly. "If you keep my secrets I'll keep you company."

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"Good evening, my sweet."

"Go away, Blaise. I'm not in the mood," Graces clipped turning another page of her book.

"Oh, darling you're never in the mood. I shall die without the knowledge of what it is like to make love to a beautiful woman."

"Please," Graces snorted. "If you're a virgin, I'm a muggle."

"When have I ever pretended to be innocent!?" Blaise exclaimed, taking a seat beside Graces and moving her legs so they were resting on his lap. "I am far from innocent, my love. I have done many many things to many girls, but I swear to you I have never made love."

Graces fidgeted nervously as Blaise ran the edge of his fingers along her calf, causing the dark skinned boy to chuckle.

"Always nervous."

"You purposely try to make me nervous," Graces blushed.

"Perhaps," Blaise ginned. "But have I ever crossed the boundaries?"

"Of course not," Graces frowned. "Unlike your other conquests you have a healthy amount of fear for my family."

"That is where you are wrong, my sweet," Blaise smirked. "It is not fear of your family that keeps me in line. It is respect. I respect your family."

"Is that why you are sitting here fondling my legs," Graces asked sweetly, whisking the bare skin away from her touchy friend.

"Oh, come come, you can hardly blame me. You have beautiful legs."

"So I've been told," Graces laughed, thinking about what Neville had said about her legs.

"Really? I always imagined Nott to be a chest man," Blaise mused.

"Yes, well…" Graces trailed off, hoping that Blaise would move off the topic.

"Do you remember when you used to plan our wedding?"

"You mean when I was five?"

Blaise laughed and nodded his head.

"My point is you were convinced we would be married. You told everyone that would listen to you that we were going to get married. My mother thought it was adorable. She still talks about how cute you were parading around at our manor saying what you were going to change once you were Mrs. Zabini. Even your father found it amusing."

"I do have exceptional taste," Graces smiled, remembering how she had helped Blaise's mother decorate her master suite after her last wedding.

"You do. Anyways, do you remember what it was that made you decide you would not be my future wife?"

"Blaise, how am I supposed to remember the rationale I had when I was child. I'm surprised you remember."

"We were sitting in the foyer with your parents and my mother, and you were playing with a baby doll while Draco and I were playing wizard's chess. My mother was cooing over how sweet you were and how you would make such a proper little witch when you were older. And then she asked if I agreed, to which I responded yes. Then your mother made some joke about how she was glad I agreed because you had your heart set on being my wife, and then I said you would make a fine first wife."

Graces stared at Blaise. Blaise with his cocky smirk, dark eyes, and chiseled face. It didn't matter to her that he had said such a thing. He was a child. A child that had grown up seeing many different fathers. It didn't surprise her now as an adult that he had said such things. He just didn't know. Didn't understand. Oh, it was common knowledge that his mother killed her husbands and married others for their fortunes, but a young child wouldn't have understood that.

Draco understood.

Draco probably overheard father discussing it with mother. He never was big on the two of them being so close.

Maybe because he didn't want mum getting funny ideas.

Never would have happened. My mother loves my father. She would rather die.

"Would you like to know what happened next? What sealed our destinies to forever be star crossed lovers?"

Graces nodded her head slowly, and waited for Blaise to continue.

"Your brother was not happy. I remember sitting there as a young child and realizing in that moment I had made a mistake. I think even my mum was worried. She had set down her tea, and I swear to this day, I think she moved her hand to be near her wand. He was a sight…"

"You do have a knack for theatrics," Graces sighed impatiently, waiting for Blaise to hurry up with the tale.

"It's a Slytherin trait. We all have to have a way with words, what else could allow us to weave in and out of sticky situations? Some have brawn, others intelligence, we have words. Words that slip, slither and burrow into the listeners' minds."

"Well you have accomplished your goal, my dear friend. I am intrigued," Graces declared slowly, leaning back on the sofa, and purposely lifting her legs back onto Blaise's lap. "What did my dear, beloved brother do?"

"He called you over and told you that under no circumstances were you to marry me."

"And I just accepted that?"

"No, you looked over to your father, as though he would disagree, and after he just stared down at you, offering no help. You had the ability to make your own choice: obey Draco's wishes or argue. And you chose to obey. From that day forward you no longer spoke of marrying me. Do you know why?"

"Because I have always had to live under the control of my over-protective, insane brother?"

"Because you trusted that Draco only wanted what was best for you. You didn't need to hear his reasons for his choices, because you knew they were all in your favor. You didn't like it. You didn't agree with it, but you knew he had his reasons." Graces examined her friend as he just continued to look at her. Slytherins were such prats sometimes. They did so love saying what they wanted in a way that made you listen. "Draco loves you. He still wants what is best for you. You may not agree with what he did, but he did it because he loves you. And let's be honest, Gray, what he did was probably for the best."

"He drugged me," Graces whispered darkly.

"He saved you from looking weak."

"I didn't look—"

"People were talking," Blaise interrupted sternly. "They were saying you looked tired and worn. It was being questioned whether you were able to handle the stress associated with your family's downfall. He drugged you to help you. I don't know what's going on with you, Graces. Did you forget the game? Are you really that distressed that you have forgotten you cannot afford to look weak right now? You're acting like a frightened, silly, little girl. If you were my sister I would have smacked you in the hall, and not allowed it the other way around."

"Don't forget who you are speaking to, Zabini," Graces growled. "I am still a Malfoy, and I will be damned before I allow you to chastise me like this."

"You want to be seen as a Malfoy? Than start behaving as one. Malfoys aren't weak."

"I am not weak!" Graces snarled.

"Sure you are," Blaise chuckled. "Poor little Graces Malfoy, always needs protecting. Needed it from her daddy and then needed it from her big brother, too fragile to handle the big, bad world on her own. It's a wonder you have surv—"

Before Blaise could make another comment he was being flung effortlessly on the floor. Graces stood on top of the couch where they had been seated, and with a flick of her wand and a quiet spell, tied the handsome Slytherin down.

"I ought to tear your tongue out of your mouth," Graces whispered, hopping down from her perch and landing right between Blaise's legs, dangerously close to sensitive areas. "The only reason I have not is because of our long-standing friendship." The dark skinned boy grunted as Graces kneeled down, thrusting her knee in the middle of his torso. "I will never give you this grace again, Zabini. Next time you call me weak, I rip your blasphemous tongue out. Do you understand?"

Graces wasn't sure when she had leaned in so that she was nose to nose with her friend, but she was. She was so close to him she could feel his breath on her bared teeth. She was aware the whole Slytherin house was watching, and she was shaking from the adrenaline of it all.

"That's my girl," Blaise grunted almost inaudibly, coughing and gulping at the air as Graces lifted her leg off his torso. "No worries, all," Blaise rasped, from his hands and knees. "Just a lovers' quarrel. Nothing to be alarmed about."

"You're an idiot," Graces muttered, helping her friend up.

"Yes, well, no one is thinking you are weak now," Blaise grunted, hissing as he stood up straight.

"Thanks…"

"Yes, well. I can't have people thinking you are pathetic, when we are to be engaged."

"Were they really calling me pathetic?" Graces asked quietly, leading Blaise up to his room.

"No, not yet they weren't. I thought I should stop it before then."

"You're a good friend, Zabini."

"I have my moments," Blaise gasped, laying down on his bed. "Fuck, Graces. When you throw a man down, you slam him. I feel like a fish that was whacked against a rock."

"Sorry…"

"Are you going to forgive your brother?"

"He has yet to atone."

"You really are going to make him atone for this? For trying to help you without making you feel badly about it?" Graces bit her lip, and didn't answer. It seemed childish now, but at the same time she didn't want to forgive. "Draco needs you," Blaise reminded. "He needs you. You are supposed to forgive him of his trespasses. Not because he deserves it, but because you love him enough to offer him that kind of grace."

I hate when Blaise makes sense, Graces thought, standing to leave. She didn't particularly want to spend a lot of time up in the dorm room alone with Blaise. She imagined there would be some pretty nasty rumors, and the last thing she wanted was everyone thinking that what had happened down stairs was truly a lovers' quarrel.

"Thanks again, Blaise," she whispered, leaning down and lightly kissing his cheek. "I'll think about what you said."

"That's all I ask, mon amour. Oh, and so you know, and I would so appreciate you telling your brother this," he added, seriously. "I have no intention of becoming a black widow. So if at any time he would like to lift his ban on our love, it would be much appreciated."

Graces laughed and left the dorm room shouting out an abundance of other reasons why her brother would disapprove of a union between the two of them. By the time she had reached her own bed, most of the anger towards her brother and Thomas had almost completely diminished.

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Draco didn't know if he should even bother approaching his sister. He stood outside the 6th year girls' dorms, staring at the door. He wanted to go in, but he also didn't want to apologize. He was doing what he thought was best, and he didn't have the luxury or the time to ponder the morality of it all. A clean soul was a luxury he was reserving for Graces, not himself.

Draco closed his eyes and thought about what it was like to be struck by Graces. A chill settled inside him at the memory. Had he lost her? Would she forever be lost to him? Graces was rarely forgiving. She had a knack for holding a grudge. She would feed the flame of one until it blazed so hot and wild that it threatened to tear her apart. Would she hold that kind of grudge towards him? Was he now truly alone?

One way to find out…

Draco slipped through the door and quietly made his way over to his sister's bed. All the other girls were fast asleep, they must have fallen asleep hours ago, letting the moonlight shining through the lake drift them away. He wished he could sleep like that. He remembered when he would watch the waves' reflections dance along the floor, comforting him to sleep, and lighting the dark enough to make all of them feel safe even though they were so far away from home. He didn't feel safe in these dorms now, though.

Graces' bed curtains were drawn all around. She clearly no longer cared to look at the reflections either. Draco rolled one curtain back, and stilled as silver eyes stared up at him. Graces looked as serene as ever to see him standing there gaping down at her like she had been expecting him to come all along.

"Get in," she sighed, moving her covers up to allow Draco to crawl in. At first he wondered if this was all a dream, but as Graces continued to gesture irritatedly to him he cautiously obeyed and felt a relief like none other when Graces wrapped her arms around him and laid her head on his chest. "I am still furious with you," she maintained.

"I know."

"And I swear on my magic, Draco, if you ever do anything like this again, I will kill you."

"I know."

"And I won't kill you quickly, either. I will make sure you suffer till your last breath."

"I know."

"And manipulating Thomas into your schemes," Graces hissed. "You should be ashamed."

"... Yeah, I know."

"...I love you…"

"I know," Draco choked, taking in deep shaking breaths and doing his best not to cry. He knew that Graces knew he was about to though. He knew because she started absently rubbing his arm as she laid against him, and stayed perfectly still. "Graces, I—"

"You're boney."

"Wh-what?"

"You're boney. To lay on. You know, I can feel your bones."

"Ah, I s-s-see not soft like Longbottom, eh?" Draco sobbed and chuckled at the same time, too overjoyed at the moment for having such a wonderful sister.

"Soft like Longbottom?"

"Yeah, yesterday when Longbottom found you, you babbled on and on for me to leave you with him. One thing you said was he was soft. I don't think he liked that much," Draco added laughing. "You should have seen how red the fat dope blushed."

"He's not fat."

"Well, he's not lean."

Graces bit her lip and decided to no longer argue. It would do no one any good if Draco caught on to her feelings for Neville. Not that she thought it would matter much longer, considering the sandy-haired boy was no longer on speaking terms with her. Still, though… she didn't want Draco to think only negatively of him.

"You said that when you found me Longbottom was taking me up to the Gryffindor tower. That I had fallen asleep and he had found me, and was taking me to his dorm it looked like."

"Yeah, so?"

"That was very kind of him. Longbottom is a kind fellow, don't you think?"

"Yesterday you called him an ass; today you call him kind. You are very confusing."

"I called him an ass?" Graces squeaked, sitting up.

"Yeah, you did," Draco laughed. "I don't think he appreciated that."

"Well, then he shouldn't act like an ass," Graces huffed.

"Do you want me to instill some manners into him?"

"No," Graces declined quickly. "I can handle Longbottom myself."

"Speaking of handling Longbottom, your life debt should be up," Draco commented, taking Graces hand and looking at her palm. "My Gods, Graces. It is up. Look no scar. Why are you still tutoring him?"

"Uh…" Graces had no idea how to answer such a question. There was no reason for her to still be tutoring him. Sure he could use tutoring still, but she wasn't required any longer to be the one to tutor him. It didn't make sense that she, Graces Malfoy, would still be spending time with him.

"Graces?" Draco asked slowly, suspicion just starting to creep up in his eyes.

"He's paying me," Graces blurted out.

"He's paying you…" Draco rolled the idea around in his head.

"Yeah, he's paying me," Graces confirmed nervously. "He's paid me a thousand galleons already," she added, moving to her nightstand and taking out the pouch of gold. She had been meaning to give it back to Neville. She really had been, But after the night in the forest, and then him ignoring her she just hadn't had the opportunity. And if she was being completely honest she was hoping to hold onto it, so that Neville would have to talk to her to gain it back. But he never had.

Draco just continued frowning as he looked inside the pouch at the coins, making Graces more and more nervous.

"We have vaults and vaults of money. More money than we could spend in lifetimes, I don't understand why you are tutoring Longbottom for money," he whispered, placing the pouch down.

"Security," Graces lied. "In case we need to make a fast escape and can't get to our vaults."

"I see..." Draco croaked, putting the coins away and leaning down on the bed to sleep. He laid there for a while waiting for slumber to creep onto him and feeling sick that Graces had planned such a thing. There was no escape. If he failed they would tear the whole world apart, muggle and magical, looking for them. Fleeing was not an option.

"I'm not scared," Graces whispered gently, nuzzling under his chin.

"Good," Draco clipped tightly, kissing his sister's head. "You have nothing to be afraid of. I'm taking care of everything."

Graces hummed a reply and Draco tried to quiet all the terrible things buzzing through his head. It was a lie. He didn't know if he could take care of everything, but it was a lie that Graces knew was a lie. It was a continuation of the façade that the two of them so desperately needed, and he was relieved when Graces didn't argue and just took it for empty words.

It may not be empty, he thought drifting himself into a slumber, his body relaxing next to the warm body and familiar scents by him. I could very well manage to pull all this off.

sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

Neville had made a decision. He loved Graces Malfoy and didn't give a piss about what she or her family had to do in this war. He loved her and was not going to turn his back on her for what her brother was so obviously being forced to do. It wasn't going to end happily, he understood that now, but he was not going to be the one to end it. He was going to be there, protecting her, letting her lean on him, talking to her and loving her. He was not going to walk away. He understood the dangers, and had decided Graces was well worth the risk. He would rather live the rest of his lifetime heartbroken than miss one smile she offered him.

A big part of him kept arguing that logically this was not the right choice, that he and Graces had a canyon between them, and he couldn't just go hiking to the other side without a plan or proper provisions, but another more important part of him argued that if he waited for there to be no risk then he would spend the rest of his life alone and separated from her. And when he thought about that he thought about all the times he sat at the lunch table wishing he had someone to be close with. He thought of all the times he went to bed at night wondering what it would be like if someone was thinking of him. Or what it would be like to be wanted by someone.

Graces wanted him and wanted him to stay. The woman he loved wanted him to stay. She was no longer pushing him away. He had finally gained her trust and friendship and Neville was not willing to throw such precious things away, even if that meant being in love with a Malfoy.

It was like what Juliet said in Romeo and Juliet:

'Tis but thy name that is my enemy;

Thou art thyself, though not a Montague.

What's Montague? It is nor hand, nor foot,

Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part

Belonging to a man.

Only Graces' last name was his enemy, and she was still Graces even if she was no longer a Malfoy. And a name wasn't even a thing that should be his enemy. It wasn't real. It couldn't do him any harm. It was a concept. Yes, it told of her heritage, but it wasn't her. She was her. Why should he hold a silly thing like a name against her. The name isn't the enemy, it's just a title. It was silly to determine that anyone sharing that last name should also be responsible for past family members' sins.

He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was holding Draco accountable for his father's sins. It was wrong. What Draco was going through was wrong on a multitude of levels. And Neville wasn't going to continue on with that kind of logic. Graces was her own person. He was aware she was entrapped in the war, and that there would come a day when she too may have to do some awful things, but Neville knew without a doubt that when that day came he would know who she really was and could look past anything she was forced to do to survive.

"Good morning," he greeted quietly, as Graces approached the desk.

"Uh, good morning," Graces greeted back warily, eyeing Neville as he stood on the right side of the desk.

"Are you busy after classes today?" Neville asked, looking around as other students entered the class. "Professor Sprout is having me harvest gillyweed from the lake, and she said I could have someone help me. She's offering extra credit to me and the person who assists me, so I figured you may want to take advantage of that."

"Uh, yeah, I would… thanks," Graces added awkwardly, still seeming to try and figure out what was going on.

"Great," Neville nodded, standing there and just staring at her. "It should be... interesting."

Graces nodded back and took her seat, obviously not knowing how to continue the conversation.

"You know I don't need your pity." Neville stopped taking notes from Professor Sprout's lecture, and waited for Graces to continue. "I will do fine in the class, even after the little mishap. My grade will improve on it's own. You don't have to feel bad. You don't have to invite me to help."

"Graces," Neville said gently, moving hand to dip his quill in ink and thus brushing against her arm and allowing it to linger there. "I've missed you." Neville listened for Graces to say something back, but the only sound to be heard was of Professor Sprout talking. "This isn't pity. We'll talk more later, but… this isn't pity."

Don't forget to follow/review! I'm sooo excited for what's to come! Now that Neville has finally made a decision with eyes wide open!