You'll Be The Death of Me

by Dominikki644

AU. OC: Graces Malfoy, Draco's twin sister. Neville, with his usual bad luck, ends up partners with Graces Malfoy for Herbology, just after landing her father in Azkaban, after the Ministry ordeal. Will this partnership prove to be as awful as it sounds? 6th year. Rated M for sexual content. Now on Ao3 As well.

40. Chapter 40

Disclaimer: All characters belong to J.K. Rowling, except Graces Malfoy and Thomas Higgs who are my own. I do not claim ownership of the characters or the settings within. This story is for entertainment only and is not part of the official story.

Author's notes: Sooo sorry this took a while guys. It was a much more in depth chapter because research was needed, and it was just so long BUT hopefully you all enjoy it :D

As usual a huge thank you to my beta Denarii for editing this monster and also for his help with researching. I would have been so lost without him on this one. Also, thank you to my best friend Aleah for reading over this chapter and catching all the odd ended mistakes I make with the plot ;)

Special thanks to Manoirrmalfoys, noone297, Scrt Vlntn, Bharm, Mackayo, spannieren, franchesca, EnchantingNightmares, bekkivobekki, blahicantthinkofaname, Blue Luver5000, DragonessUnderTheMountain, Lizzy B, cocoatd, jesssyxo, and 000janedoe000 for your reviews!

I'm so glad you all seemed to enjoy the last chapter so much! I loved seeing all the reviews!

Also the poem "Dear Ancestor" is by Walter Butler Palmer.

Chapter 40

"You're wearing that?"

Neville took a deep breath to keep himself from making any kind of negative retort back. It was finally Halloween. He had been nervous and excitedly anxious for this evening all day. He hadn't even really been able to enjoy the Halloween feast, all he could think about was the Samhain festival with Graces. He wasn't exactly looking forward to the festival itself, but he was looking forward to sharing in something that meant so much to the woman he was continuously falling more in love with. However, Graces, the ridiculous witch that she was, now seemed to be the one that was riddled with self-doubt and anxiety over him coming.

"Yes, I am," he stated firmly. "Is that a problem?"

"You're just so… layered."

"I believe we agreed that I would not have to be naked for this excursion."

"Yes, but do you have to be so clothed?" she asked, a hint of hysteria in her voice. "It will make it harder for you to move past people unnoticed. Also, couldn't you have worn something that will display your house?"

"I take it you mean my family's colors." Neville sighed.

"Yes! I mean, I know no one is going to be able to see you, but the Gods can, and it wouldn't kill you to show some sort of display of respect towards them," Graces chastised, wrinkling her nose at his plain black winter coat.

"I think the gods would be aware of who I am and what house I am from," Neville said slowly, making sure to keep his voice carefully neutral. "Also, if you are worried about the bulkiness of my coat, I will leave it in your room."

"Right… my room," Graces echoed quietly.

"Do you no longer wish me to accompany you to your dorm?" Neville was now feeling exceptionally awkward. The plan was for them to meet in the classroom where she would charm him invisible before heading to the Slytherin dorms where he would portkey in with her and the rest of the Slytherins. Part of this plan included him staying at her side the whole time, even when she went up to the girls' dormitories to wait until the time to leave.

"No, it's fine," Graces dismissed quickly. "We're keeping to the original plan. I can't have you just standing in our common area, nor can I get you right before it's time to go. Just… just be sure no one senses your presence."

"Trust me, Graces, the last thing I want is to have the whole Slytherin house discover me in their common room. Or for that matter your brother discover me in your dorm room," Neville added, a jolt of actual fear running through him.

"Hey, I did warn him that I was shagging you," Graces reminded playfully.

"Yeah, you know… probably not the smartest thing to be teasing your brother with," Neville warned, his voice slightly higher.

"Oh, he would never believe it," Graces said with a wave of her hand.

"Not the point," Neville groaned.

Graces raised her chin a fraction and surveyed Neville for a moment.

"Then what is the point?" she asked curiously, taking a step near to him.

"Its-its just not a joking matter," Neville blushed. "I mean what we do and all. It's… it's... well, you shouldn't be adding unnecessary risk," Neville scolded, changing the line of his reasoning.

"Longbottom," Graces smiled, smoothing his hair. "You worry and think too much." Neville didn't have a chance to retort as Graces stood higher on her tip toes and kissed away anything he might have said. In the back of his head he was grumbling about how he was tied around her finger while the rest of him just melted to her wishes. "It's fun teasing Draco. Think of it as me torturing him for all the awful things he has done to you."

"You're going to be teasing him for a long time then," Neville snorted.

"I know… I think I'm up for the challenge though," Graces mused, taking out her wand. "Are you ready?"

"Are you ready?" Neville questioned, giving Graces a look.

Graces hesitated for a moment, her eyes shifting around as though she were trying to calculate the answer to some harder question. "I am," she stated finally after a deep breathe. "Just please be careful."

"I will," Neville promised.

"I still wish you would have worn some light formal robes."

"No Gods worth worshipping will smite me down for such foolishness," Neville quipped, smiling at Graces' nervousness.

"Longbottom, do me a favor and take a step away from me when you make such comments. I don't want a bolt of lightning hitting me as it heads for you."

"Everything is going to be fine," Neville chuckled, placing a soft kiss on Graces' forehead. "Now, make me invisible and let's get this over with."

Neville could not believe he was about to enter the Slytherin common room or that Graces had taken him all through the halls to get there.

"It's behind this wall," Graces whispered. "Stay close and don't fall behind." Neville nodded, though he knew Graces had no way of seeing and followed her behind a wall.

"You're not worried I will remember the password?" Neville whispered teasingly as Graces was about to begin.

The blonde stopped and raised a challenging eyebrow at Neville's joke before turning around to the stone wall.

"Your tombstone stands among the rest;

neglected and alone

The name and date are chiseled out

on polished, marbled stone

It reaches out to all who care

It is too late to mourn

You did not know that I'd exist

You died and I was born.

Yet each of us are cells of you

in flesh, in blood, in bone.

Our blood contracts and beats a pulse

not entirely our own.

Dear Ancestor, the place you filled

one hundred years ago

Spreads out among the ones you left

who would have loved you so.

I wonder if you lived and loved,

I wonder if you knew

That someday I would find this spot,

and come to visit you."

"I love that poem."

"Graham," Graces smiled, as the passage to the Slytherin dorm opened. "I didn't see you standing there."

"I didn't make my presence known," the older boy grinned, beginning to walk through the hall his hands politely at his back.

"Were you there long?"

"I came in at about Dear Ancestor."

"Ah," Graces breathed, a look of relief coming into her features.

"Higgs is having a problem with it. I really feel awful for the kid," Graham continued. "I get that it's only for one day, but it's painful to see him stuttering through it."

"Then why not come up and say it for him," Graces clipped cooly, a hint of venom in her voice.

"Now now, Malfoy, put the claws away. I just don't want to embarrass the boy by coming in and interrupting him. That would have basically been telling him he couldn't do it, or I was sick of listening to him trying to do it."

"I suppose you're right," Graces grumbled.

"Is it your favorite poem for the night?" Graham asked pleasantly as they entered the common room.

"It is," Graces nodded. Neville was surprised by how calm and polite Graces was being. He expected her to be curt and anxious. He knew he was. He knew the Slytherin couldn't see him, but he still worried that the broad boy would move and discover that he and Graces were not alone.

"Make sure to come say hello to my mother tonight, will you? She's been asking about you since the Quidditch game."

"Has she?" Graces asked surprised. "I wasn't aware. I would have written her had I known."

"Yeah." Merlin's beard! He's the captain. He's the one that kissed her. "She seems to think that it's my fault you hurt your arm," the burley boy chuckled. "Says if I wasn't so hard on you, yelling and whatnot, that you wouldn't have done something so stupid to win."

"That's silly," Graces scoffed. "I'm a big girl and your yelling doesn't intimidate me at all."

"That's what I told her. I said that my yelling at you does nothing because my words could never penetrate that thick skull of yours."

"Watch it, Montague," Graces warned.

"Right, right. I'll see you tonight, Malfoy." Neville expected that to be the end of the exchange, but before Montague left he took both Graces' hands and murmured "blessed be" to which Graces bowed her head slightly and whispered "merry meetings."

"Isn't that the bloke that kissed you?" Neville whispered after the older boy was out of earshot, unable to keep himself from asking. To his great annoyance Graces ignored his question and continued walking bowing her head and murmuring a "blessed be" or "merry meetings" to other Slytherins as she passed them. Neville knew it was silly of him to care, but seeing her interaction with the boy on comfortable, friendly terms bothered him in a way especially when the thought entered his head that this boy, the one that kissed her on the quidditch pitch for all to see, was about to see her naked.

If she has celebrated this her whole life he already has.

Neville inwardly groaned at the thought that just entered his mind and now, despite himself, felt exceptionally jealous.

"Graces!" Neville quickly moved to the side as Pansy Parkinson leaped forward at Graces' entrance to the 6th year girls' room, hugging the blonde closely to her. "Happy Samhain! Aren't you excited? I just can't wait!"

"Merry meetings," Graces greeted brightly, standing higher on her toes, looking over Pansy's shoulder and greeting Millicent with a "merry meetings" as well.

"Merry meetings," Millicent nodded from the bed.

"Did you see the portkey my mother sent me?" Pansy exclaimed, gaining the attention back to her. Neville quickly looked away as Pansy moved her hand to the opening of her purple satin robe. "It was my grandmother's."

Neville imagined loads of other boys would have jumped for the opportunity he had right now: being invisible in a girls room while three girls moved about with no reservations toward their own nudity, but he just hated it. He didn't even look as Graces herself began to remove her clothing. He felt intrusive standing in that room and wanted nothing more than to wait outside. But as that option wasn't an option he tried to ignore his discomfort with having three half-naked girls waltzing around him and focused on taking in his surroundings.

Despite the fire that was raging along the wall and the warmth that was on his skin, Neville found the room cold. Dark green drapes hung along the wall, accenting the dark mahogany wood of the furniture and a green glow from being under the lake illuminated most of the floor. While many comforts of home were around the girls' beds and dressers, he still couldn't shake the feeling of emptiness in the room. It wasn't cozy armchairs in the corners; it was elegant cathedras. Drawers were neatly tucked in their nooks, and not even a spare rucksack was along the ground. It didn't invite any warmth at all in Neville's opinion. It felt more like a showcase than a home away from home.

However the girls didn't seem to feel that way about the room at all. Laughter flitted through the air and all three girls were now huddled on Graces' bed, completely at home within this dungeon.

"We should have a drink," Graces suggested, moving to the side of the bed and taking out a bottle of wine along with three goblets.

"Yes, please!" Pansy, of course, exclaimed delightedly, taking the goblet as Graces passed it over.

"Millie?"

The burlier girl nodded her head slowly and thanked Graces for the glass. Neville remembered Graces mentioning that Millicent didn't drink, and that was exceptionally obvious now as she took a swig and puckered her lips as the taste of the alcohol hit her.

"Well, Millicent Bulstrode, look at you," Pansy smiled, taking the girl's arm and hugging it close. "Drinking in the dorms. Next step is drinking at the parties."

"Don't get used to it, Parkinson," Millicent grumbled. "It's just for tonight."

"Trying to take the edge off before the festival?" Graces surmised.

"Yeah..." Millicent blushed, moving her hands and tightly closing her robes together. "Don't get me wrong, I'm excited and I know it will be fun, but I always feel anxious beforehand."

Neville could only imagine how Millicent Bulstrode felt about getting naked in front of so many people. While Graces and Pansy enjoyed their long silk robes that fell down their long legs and hugged their bodies, complementing their curves, Millicent clutched at a robe that was more akin to a dressing gown. She wasn't built like the other girls. She was burly with wide shoulders and a jutting jaw. On multiple occasions he had heard her called unflattering names by girls and boys alike in his house. Even Harry once commented that she looked like a hag out of "Holidays with Hags". Millicent, unlike Graces and Pansy, didn't glide through the halls. She trod, lacking grace as well as beauty.

"I think we all get a little anxious beforehand," Graces comforted gently, taking the bottle and filling up Millicent's wine goblet more. "We're human and our insecurities are always weighing heavily on our minds. But tonight is about putting away those worldly thoughts and being one with our spirit and the spirits around us."

Both other girls nodded in agreement and quickly moved off the topic, choosing to discuss their excitement over the holiday rather than their worries. Neville quietly took off his bulky jacket and scarf and moved to sit quietly behind Graces on the bed as she talked. There was a slight pause as he took the seat, but Graces seemed to enjoy having him there and moved slightly back so that she was touching him.

"We better head down," Pansy noted, finishing her wine and standing up to lead the other girls out into the common room. Neville followed close behind and felt a warm glow of affection fill him as Graces took Millicents hand and gave it a squeeze while descending the stairs, obviously wanting to give the girl some comfort as they walked to meet with the rest of their house.

Neville didn't know how he was going to prevent himself from bumping into anyone as they made their way on the floor. Younger years were running around excitedly as older years grouped in crowds among their friends. Endless amounts of chatter filled the stone walls and everyone seemed to be double checking that they had everything they needed. Graces seemed to understand his hesitancy though and moved slowly around the crowd to her brother.

"Blessed be," Draco greeted, kissing Graces on the cheek and moving to stand on the outer edge with her.

"Blessed be."

Neville moved aside as Draco stood behind Graces, brotherly wrapping his arms around her and resting his chin on her head as though he were trying to emphasize his height compared to hers.

"Comfortable?" Graces asked, feining annoyance.

"I am, actually."

"You're such a prat," Graces scoffed, hanging her hands on Draco's arms that collared her.

"Excuse me, but aren't I the same brother that gave you dragon scales the other day?"

"That was yesterday," Graces shrugged, letting out a loud "eep" as Draco pinched her side. "I'm kidding, no need to get rude."

"Did you already place them?"

"I did," Graces grinned. "They look amazing."

Draco smiled fondly down at his sister's excitement and agreed that he couldn't wait to see them.

"I'm really happy you chose to go with this festival and not the other one," Graces whispered, closing her eyes and leaning more on her brother's chest as they waited. "Will Nott be—"

"He's attending the other one," Draco cut in. "It was what swayed my decision in attending this one."

"And Aunt Bella is attending the other one as well, correct?"

"Yes."

Graces gave a relieved sigh and Neville raised an eyebrow at her. He hadn't even thought about her aunt being at this festival and was exceptionally relieved to hear that she wouldn't be there. Apparently Graces had thought of it all though, and he made a mental note to thank her for ensuring he would not have any kind of painful discomfort.

"Are you nervous?"

"Me?" Draco asked surprised. "No."

"It's your first time doing this as our patriarch. You're not the least bit nervous?" Graces asked skeptically.

"It's just you, mother and close relatives nothing to really be nervous about." Graces hummed a reply, but didn't seem altogether convinced. "Graces, call Thomas over. I'm sick of seeing him with that twat."

"Aww, you don't think they're—"

"Graces," Draco growled.

"Thomas, darling, come here."

Thomas looked over at Graces' call and immediately excused himself to stand beside her, his red and white silk robe clashing with Graces' and Draco's matching blue and white ones.

"M-m-merry m-m-meet-tings," Thomas smiled, giving a little yelp as Graces pulled him over to join her and Draco's train.

"Blessed be," she said gently, resting her chin on the young boy's shoulder when she couldn't rest it on the top of his head.

"I swear, Graces, you try to antagonize that girl," Draco whispered, as Graces smugly smiled at Wendelin from her manmade fort. Graces didn't answer. Instead she shifted her arms around Thomas possessively.

Neville heard the Slytherin doors open and turned to see Professor Snape walking in. Unlike the rest of his house he didn't wear anything different than his regular flowing black robes. His hair was still greasy and unkempt and he looked more irritated than usual as he took his place at the top of the stairs. Neville wondered for a brief moment if seeing all the happy faces in his house was the reason for his irritation, but when he looked around the happy faces had disappeared and so had the excited noises. The room was now silent and, if he was not mistaken, some of the looks that were being given to the head of house were ones of contempt.

"Merry meetings," the professor deadpanned, his back beady eyes looking around the room. "I am aware that you will all be away for the night and in the care of your families; however, I would like to remind you of the rules associated with this privilege."

"As tempting as it may be for some of you to go home for the night, I am going to have to insist that you return to the castle. Your parental release to leave does not extend past the festival. Another reminder that once the festival is over you are all expected to arrived here in the common room clothed. I see all of you are wearing robes now and I expect you all to be wearing robes when you return."

The whole Slytherin house seemed to feel that this talk was a waste of time. Eyerolls and whispers of halfblood ignorance was going through the crowd like gentle waves on a seashore. It was the first time that Neville realized that Snape's blood status may have been an issue he had to deal with on a daily basis. And for the first time in his life he felt bad for the greasy git.

"Also, I expect all of you to return back to your dorms after the festival. Your own dorms," he emphasized. "If I should hear that—"

"None of us would be in another's room after tonight," Montague interrupted cooly. "And the fact that you are suggesting such a thing on one of our holy nights is degrading."

Snape didn't even glance at the interruption, instead he just raised his voice slightly over his student's declaration to say that if he did find out that any of the boys and girls were in each other's room at the end of the night he not only would be giving them detention for the rest of the school year, but would also be owling parents. None of the Slytherins were listening though, they all seemed to be bristling at Snape's assumption.

"That is all," Snape dismissed, a very small tinge of red to his cheeks. "I will be waiting for your return at the end of the night."

"I'll meet you there," Graces whispered, moving away from the two boys and walking towards the entrance to catch up with the potions master. Neville followed and inwardly cursed the blonde for chasing after the man. "Are you really not going to come?" Graces shouted outside the common room and down the lonely hall.

Snape stilled and turned around, sneering at Graces as she continued to stomp up.

"Why would I?"

Graces glared at the man before her. "Because Draco is performing his first ceremony as patriarch of this family, because you are his godfather, because you are my godfather, because we are alone without our father and you should be the one stepping up to guide us, because it's tradition," Graces spat savagely, her nose almost coming into contact with Snape's hooked one. "We would respect you more if you at least tried to be apart of our culture," Graces added slowly, her eyes unwavering from his.

"None of that," the greasy haired man said quietly, "is of any real concern to me."

Neville could tell that Graces was near tears at the declaration and he felt something inside him harden as Graces' chin trembled slightly. Still, the blonde did not waver, she kept her place and glared the professor down, practically demanding to hear more.

"I refuse to foolishly dance around naked celebrating old, useless pagan rituals," Snape continued icily. "You seem to think that your traditions are so different from the muggle ones of bowing down before a cross and asking for forgiveness. Do you have any idea of the world that is out there?" Snape asked with new venom. "There is no god or gods protecting anyone out there. There is just people. Go ahead and bow down to your silly pagan deities. Waste your time, effort, blood and faith in whatever allows you to sleep at night, but do not expect me to join you in that farce."

The tall man moved to leave, but Graces grabbed his arm before he could and moved in front of him again.

"You may be right," she rasped, staring up at Snape's sullen face as her arms held his shoulders. "There may be no gods or goddesses. We could all be very much alone in this world, but the thing is Draco and I are real. You said there is just people, well we're people, we could be your people, but you choose to not be there. You choose a miserable life for yourself day in and day out. It's like you want your misery. You could make an effort. You could be our godfather, hell or even just be our head of house. Do you know why you are only respected as a professor? It's not because your father was a miserable muggle; I think it's fair to say you have earned your place among us. You're not respected because you don't put any effort into your relations with us. You don't show us respect. We don't expect you to be friendly. Many of us come from families that are far from it, but you could be there. And you're not. You're always absent. So we're not. I know what the world is like out there," Graces continued, a small tear coming from the corner of her eye, "and I can sleep at night knowing that I have someone in this world. My question is how do you sleep at night, Severus?"

"Dreamlessly."

Graces didn't even look back as Snape strode away from her. She stood in the hall breathing angrily over the interaction, and Neville wondered if he was meant to see this. Not knowing if he should even be there, he pulled Graces close to him and held her as she shook with fury.

"I can't stand him," she croaked. "I really can't. He doesn't even try. He—"

"Come on," Neville whispered. "Did you really want him to come that much? Do you honestly think you could get the image of Severus Snape naked out of your head? I would call his lack of interest a blessing." Graces stifled something between a sob and a laugh against Neville's chest, and the sandy haired boy just held her closer. "I'm trying," he offered, kissing the top of her head before murmuring that he was trying again.

"I know you are," Graces smiled, leaning up and trying to find Neville's lips to kiss but succeeding in only finding his chin. "Let's go. I don't want you to miss a thing."

Neville agreed and moved his hand to hold the dragon portkey that Graces had been sent. It was as the portkey activated that he suddenly remembered why he hated them. He felt like a leaf being tossed around by an angry wind. The world he knew was blurring around him and all he could do was count the seconds until it was over. Finally he was able to release his hold on the object and he immediately was flung across an open field. Graces, however, landed gracefully on her feet and, before Neville even had a chance to make the world stop spinning, she was running forward to her mother.

"Blessed be," Narcissa choked, kissing her daughter on the temple and engulfing her in her small frame.

"Blessed be."

Neville had seen Narcissa Malfoy only a handful of times in person. He had seen her in Diagon Alley shopping, at the train station waiting for her children, standing beside her husband during a political fundraiser and on the Quidditch pitch after a game. She had always been this prominent figure in purebood society, standing proudly beside her husband and coldly snubbing anyone whom she deemed inferior. Multiple times his gran had been disrespected by Narcissa Malfoy, and multiple times his gran had disrespected her right back, but now it was hard to believe he was looking at the same woman.

"Okay, let me see them," Narcissa ordered taking a step back. Graces sent Draco a hesitant look, but discreetly shifted her robes so her mother could see the patch of skin now adorned with opalescent scales. "Your father is going to kill you," Narcissa noted, shaking her head and holding a perfectly manicured finger under her lips. "You're patriarch for less than a year and you gave in to her."

"I never thought it was a bad idea for her to have them," Draco shrugged, examining the scales.

"You know how your father feels about them though."

"It's done," Draco gestured. "Besides, he's not here," Draco murmured, bitterness and sadness mixing simultaneously into his words.

"Well, he will be soon," Narcissa clipped surely, sending a glare to her son for bringing up such a painful subject. "And when he is here he will not be thrilled that you allowed his daughter to do such a thing."

"You don't like it?"

Narcissa's face warmed at her daughter's question. "Of course I like it, my darling. They're beautiful and beautifully placed, I just don't know how your brother is going to survive it."

"I think he'll pull through," Graces smiled, letting go of her robes so they closed back around her body.

The older Malfoy smiled ruefully at her children's logic before placing her hands on their shoulders and leading them away from the field and to the soft glows in the distant rolling hills. Neville walked off to the side with them careful to keep his steps as quiet as possible as they approached the festival.

It was nothing like Neville had thought it would be. Pureblood family flags stood up around the edges of the festival creating a circle enclosing all the people within. Outside of this circle of flags stood altars with immense amounts of food laid down. There were children running around on the grass, their family colors billowing around them as their robes wafted about. Heavenly scents were engulfing him as he neared the men and women setting dishes of food down on altars and tables while other family members sang old poems, like the one Graces had recited, for the little ones to listen to. Endless chatter could be heard from all and anyone able-bodied seemed to be doing something for the festivity.

"Look who's finally arrived!"

Terrence Higgs placed the last remnants of food down on a marble altar that held the Higgs family crest and bowed humbly to it before stepping back to greet the Malfoys.

"Mrs. Malfoy," Terrence greeted, taking the older woman's hand and bowing his head down. "Merry meetings."

"Merry meetings," Narcissa repeated, dipping her head kindly in respect.

"I don't know if your son has made you aware, but our family has adopted your children within our own."

"I was not aware," Narcissa admitted, angling her chin over to her son at this announcement and waiting for an explanation.

"We figured that since your daughter and son have done so much to care for one of our own, it would be only right for us to care for them in the same manner."

"That's very kind," Narcissa thanked, placing a tender arm on her children's shoulders. "It's always a comfort to hear that others are guarding your children."

"I agree," Terrance nodded. "Graces and Draco has given so much comfort to us. We never worry about Thomas anymore." Graces blushed bashfully, clearly at a loss for what to say. "I hope you don't mind, but we set up beside you for this reason. We thought that since we feel so close to you, we should be close to you for such a holiday."

Narcissa gazed over at the Higgs clan setting up beside her and Neville wondered if she was as taken aback at the sheer size of the Higgs family as he was. Red was definitely the predominant color in this festival. You could not look anywhere without seeing a man, woman or child in a red robe. Though they only had one flag standing tall with the rest, they certainly dominated the other pureblood houses in numbers. It was one thing to know the Higgs clan was big, you see some of them at certain events and you come to think you have an idea of their size, but seeing it was a whole different story.

"I realize that this is Draco's first festival as the patriarch," Terrence continued brightly, politely ignoring the way Narcissa tensed up and clutched her hand around her son protectively. "I thought that maybe he would enjoy being beside me for the event. I'm sure his father taught him everything he needed to know, but I know I was nervous for my first festival."

Narcissa didn't answer, instead she looked to her son and waited for his decision on the matter. Draco seemed torn. Neville imagined that it was hard for him to admit to being nervous when it seemed all eyes were now on him. Neville himself had just taken on the role of patriarch and he knew the pressure that came along with it. The wizarding world all seemed to keep an eye on you after you take on such a role. The way you act, what you believe, the decisions you make all seem to be under scrutiny.

"We're all going to be standing together for the beginning anyways," Terrence reminded kindly. Draco glanced up for a moment at the older man, before looking over to his mother and nodding.

"Graces, will you set up the altar for our family?" Narcissa asked, her eyes still trailing her son as he walked off to the center of the circle. Graces nodded and Neville followed her to a large stone well.

"It's spelled," Graces whispered. "We reach in and are able to get the food we prepared at home for the festival." As she was speaking Graces took out a large plate of Pumpkin pasties. "Then we take the food to either our alter outside of the circle for our ancestors or to the table for us to eat during the festival."

"Why are the altars set up outside of the circle?" Neville asked, making sure to keep his voice down.

"Inside the circle is for the living," Graces explained, walking past her flag into the dark field where her family's marble altar stood. "Outside the circle is for the dead. The veil between our worlds is thinned, but that doesn't mean we want it breached. Some spirits don't always mean well when they come in contact with the living. We want to invite our family, but we have to be mindful that others could come as well. We place food on the altars for our ancestors. It is hoped that since the veil is thin on nights like this they can enjoy the food we leave, but even if they can't the food shows them that the family is well and they are remembered. You'll notice a lot of pineapple," Graces giggled. "Pineapple used to be a sign of wealth to muggles. If your family could afford such an exotic fruit it was thought you were very wealthy. Wizards and witches were able to get them no problem just by apparating them in, and then they could walk around in muggle society and be seen as exceptionally wealthy. It helped to manipulate and charm them. Some families would rent the fruit to muggle families for extra money or give it to a squib family member to do so with. So we put it on these altars as sort of a joke. I expect many of the renaissance era spirits enjoy it."

"Wait here," Graces ordered, stopping Neville from walking any further to her families alter. Neville watched as Graces approached the stone with a bowed head. He couldn't tell from the back, but it looked as though she were praying. She stood there for a long time murmuring words too soft for him to overhear to the stone before setting the silver dish down and placing a gentle kiss onto the alter with it.

"Those are for my grandmother. Those were her favorite. She would make them all the time. I remember her chateau always smelled like pumpkin pasties and cauldron cakes. When we make certain dishes for certain members we say a few words of remembrance."

"Like a prayer?"

"I suppose that's a way to explain it."

"Do you think they hear you?" Neville asked as they approached the light.

"I believe they do."

"What would you want on your altar?" Neville asked curiously as Graces pulled a large roasted goose out of the stones.

"That's a morbid question," Graces muttered, her eyebrows lifting. Neville blushed and began muttering how sorry he was, but Graces just laughed. "It's fine, Longbottom. I was just a bit surprised. I don't particularly think of my death, but since you brought it up I can answer."

"I think I would just want a whole separate feast from the rest. Just bits of everything," Graces laughed. "A whole altar devoted to just me and my food. Like the Great Hall feasts."

"No way, Malfoy," Neville teased playfully. "One thing and that's it."

"Two things," Graces stipulated.

"Fine, two."

"Chocolate and firewhiskey. There, it's done. Now if I leave this world you know what to tell Draco to leave at my altar."

"I could leave it at your altar."

"You won't be allowed near my altar," Graces smiled, continuing on to her families altar while Neville waited for her return.

As they returned more Malfoys were walking out to the altar. Neville didn't know who these family members were, but from the looks of it they were all distant relatives, cousins mostly with a few great aunt and uncles thrown in. They all spoke excitedly in French as they greeted Graces, her mother, and Draco. It was then that Neville realized Draco and Graces' robes were different from the rest: more elaborate and with extra symbols embroidered in.

Draco's the patriarch so that makes sense, Neville thought as Graces whispered something in her cousin's ear. But why is Graces' different?

As fires around the family tables and tents dimmed and Draco turned Graces away from her cousins to join him and the other heads of house in the center of the circle it hit him. She's his heir.

It did make sense. Draco had no children so it only seemed right that Graces would be the one to inherit his title and wealth. He imagined that Draco would rather give it to her than a distant cousin, though it was probably frowned upon in some circles. If Draco cared about other people's feelings about his female heir he didn't show it. He stood up there with his sister unapologetically placing her right beside him as he stood with the other heads of house and their male heirs. All the family members were now gathered around. There was ample space for all of them and they sat around two large stacks of wood, their robes creating a color wheel of ancestry.

"Merry meetings," a tall dark skinned woman began as the crowd fell silent.

"Blessed be."

"And happy Samhain," Terrence ended, smiling at all the faces around him.

"I can't begin to explain the merriment that my heart is filled with to see so many at this year's Sanhain festival," the darker woman continued, gesturing to the array of people seated around. Neville realized that the young man standing beside her adorned in a gray and black robe was Blaise Zabini.

"It truly is a blessing to see so many of our own gathering to celebrate together," a gray-haired man enjoined, his son, Graham, standing at his side proudly.

"And we are sure there are more that we are just unable to see," Terrence laughed, gesturing out to the dark fields beyond them where the altars stood.

"Yes," Ms. Zabini smiled. "Samhain is a joyous time for many reasons. It is the time when we can remember and feel close to those who have passed beyond our realm."

"A time when we are able to join together as a family and practice traditions we hope to be passed on through generations to come," Montague added.

"And a time to honor our Gods," Draco finished.

"While these traditions have been lost to many," Neville was now looking at a purple robbed man who, judging by the colors, must have been Pansy's relative. "They have not been lost to all of us. Some may say we are backwards, but I don't understand how one can believe religion progresses forwards."

"The Gods are the same now as they were hundreds of years ago, and they expect the same things from us now as they did then."

Neville no longer was paying attention to who was speaking and instead was only listening to the words.

"We are not the ones that should be modifying our rituals and beliefs. We are the ones that should be looked at to show the way. Centuries ago we were told to lay down our wands and give ourselves to a single God or be burned alive. Many of us, those that were weaker and too scared to stand besides their conviction, stopped their traditions and hid their magic, letting the majority of the muggleborn population engulf them in their beastly culture. "

"The government designed to protect us and our ways of life bent to the will of those entering it from the outside, but we, the ones that hold pride in where we come from, the ones who refuse to tremble before anyone—man or singular God—have held true."

"Let tonight be a reminder of who we are and where we have come from," Draco roared proudly. "Let us practice our traditions of protection, honor and remembrance in a way that would make our ancestors proud."

"Let us join together and honor our Gods who celebrate our magic! And our traditions!" Terrence bellowed into the night air as his small son moved closer to his robes.

"Let us all come together bringing fire from each of our homes, fire that we have kept alive from the bonfires of the last Samhain, fire that will burn away all the bad influences of the year and warm our homes in the year to come."

"Let us rejoice in the ashes that will purify and protect us."

"And let us give sacrifice to the Gods above for all the things they have blessed us with," Zabini sang, taking out a long dagger from her robes and cutting her arm open to pour blood onto the wood. Neville cringed as each head of house repeated the action, before healing themselves and waiting for their heir to come forward.

Graces bowed down to her knees and lifted her arm to her brother, not even flinching as he sliced her skin apart and let her blood trickle to the wood. She just kept her eyes closed and her lips moving in silent prayer.

Terrence's son did not seem to have the same courage as the older men and women surrounding him, and when his father turned to him he shook out of fear.

"It's okay, son," Terrence comforted, calling up his wife. "It has to be willing. If you don't want to, that's fine. The Gods will understand. They favor strapping, young boys," he added with a wink.

The young tike nodded, though his skin was blotched red and tears streamed down his face. Terrence's wife pulled her child close to her as her other arm bled onto the wood and murmured quietly that it was okay, that he was still such a good little wizard.

Other children had no problem with the ritual. They seemed excited and proud, but unlike the adults their arms were not being sliced open and only a prick of the finger was taken from anyone younger than thirteen. There were a few here and there that became frightened and at the last minute pulled away, but none of the adults seemed to mind. Most just smiled amused at the scene before picking them up and kissing their cheeks.

Each patriarch stayed beside the bonfire: cutting and healing any family member that came up to give sacrifice. Before long it was just the Higgs clan remaining. Graces had come back to sit among her family as Draco continued to stand beside the fire, but she didn't talk or tell Neville anything about what was going on. She just sat on her knees, hands clapped together, eyes closed, praying.

When the last of the Higgs family members had finished coming up, all the families were directed to bring the fire from their homes up to the bonfires. All around wives stood and went back to their families' areas, taking down the torches that were illuminating the circle before standing at one of the bonfires. Darkness closed in on them as the torches were taken to the center. Neville waited for the torches to be cast onto the wood, but the women surrounding the massive pile of logs just stood motionless. Neville wondered if they were praying and then after a few moment realized they were waiting.

Softly Graces began to sing beside him. At first he wondered if she knew she was singing, it seemed that everyone else around her was silent in prayer, but as she rose from the ground, her swelling voice rising through the night in a tormented plea to the heavens. He realized it was part of the ceremony. It was intriguing, heartbreaking and beautifully evocative to listen to. All around there was silence as Graces lifted her hands to the heavens and sang out into the stars. Her voice and movements grew angry and desperate. She lifted her hands and gestured in a way that lead you to believe she was making demands to the heavens, sang in a way that spoke of heartbreak, betrayal, and need like a lost soul abandoned in the world, beseeching the gods to deliver them.

As Graces' voice keened ever louder to the heavens—each note more overpowering than the last and tears streaming down her face—Blaise began a low, solemn song. He stared forward into nothingness as his low voice carried a hopeful, unsure melody that slowly built into a buoyant, aspirational and proud tone.

Blaise was now lifting his chin up proudly as his voice began to drown out Graces. His notes cut through crisp and clean, evoking a hopeful feeling from all around as he gestured passionately and moved through the audience to Graces where they combined their songs in an impressive duet.

If Graces song was about deliverance, Blaise's was about clinging to hope. It was haunting and raw. Both students sang into the other's voice, clinging to their hands as though they were each other's strength to continue.

As the duet continued a few teenagers stood from their seats and moved over to some drums where they began to softly bang out a beat while a dark, rhythmic whispering began in the crowd, building until it was harsh chanting. A swelling chorus of sharp, spiteful staccato that reminded one of demons coming up from the ground was now unfolding. Graces' melody wavered from the new hopeful one it was taking and she took a step back from Blaise who continued to sing a song pleading with her for faith. Graces' song and voice continued to falter, though, and the crowd that had been sitting was now on their feet continuing their frightening, amplified chants of scourge and drowning her voice out. Blaise's voice carried through though. It fought the new demonic tune and soared through the air over it.

Then, like birds in the morning light, a new song began brewing within the chaos. But it wasn't from Graces, Blaise, or any of the other adults, it was from the young Higgs heir. The harsh chanting yielded to the childish song that spoke of miracles and doubtless faith. Hardened hearts melted from the sound of the children's song. The majestic melody soon was catching an ensemble of voices as all the other children joined in, slowly being accompanied by their parents in their inspirational lyrics. The children lead the song now even as Graces and Blaise intertwined, harmonizing with the children's choir. The little ones continued to conduct the theme, leading the rich variety of melodies into a powerful tune of triumph.

Neville had never understood the word spiritual until this moment, but he now wondered how he had ever doubted it's tangibility. He was moved, spiritually moved. He had a feeling that it was the music that was doing it. It was pulling on his emotions to the point where he had transcended the usual feelings he held. He was high off the euphoria the performance was bringing, and, as the patriarchs approached the bonfires and toasted their torches in the air together before throwing them into the wood, he was surprised to realize that he was clapping his hands along with the rest of them. The song was now once again changing and the triumphant finale was now merging into a celebratory dance.

The new song swept through the celebrants as they clapped and danced around the bonfires. Robes were now being flung to the ground as they twirled and trotted between the alley of the flames, re-emerging splotched with ash. Neville still didn't know the tongue they were speaking in, but whatever song they were singing caused all of them to laugh through the verses. Instruments could now be heard from all around as people began playing to the songs that were being sung. The young boys and girls that had been playing the drums were soon relieved of their task as others came covered in ash to play for them so they too could dance around the flames.

Graces and her friends seemed to be playing a game of chicken with wild fire that was roaring high into the sky. They would run up as close as they could and then run back, spinning in circles with the new ash they had accumulated on their skin. As the last song neared its end Draco grabbed Graces and both twins made a run for the piano where they began playing a faster-paced song that made the other purebloods dance faster and spin one another about more.

"You're playing too fast!" Draco laughed, banging his fingers along the keys and sending a puff of ash up with each movement.

"Oh?" Graces challenged. "I believe this song calls for Allegro."

"Allegro does not mean as fast as possible," Draco pointed out, still trying to keep up with his sister. "Prestissimo means as fast as possible."

"You're just jealous you can't keep up," Graces scoffed, sending him a wicked grin.

"Was that a flat instead of a sharp?"

"Shut up," Graces snapped, pounding harder on the keys, her fingers racing to the next note and grinning from ear to ear as Draco faltered.

"M-m-may I j-j-join?" Thomas broke in, every inch of him, which Neville could see, covered in soot.

"Can you handle it?" Graces shouted over the keys cockily raising her chin.

Thomas raised an eyebrow and took Draco's place at the piano.

"Oh, bloody hell," Graces whispered as Thomas not only played the piece faster than her, but without any errors. "It's moments like these where I really hate you, Higgs."

"Y-you l-love m-me," Thomas quipped, finishing the song and moving away as Blaise started another. "W-want t-to h-help t-t-take th-the b-b-babes th-through?"

"Yes!" Graces exclaimed excitedly, running behind Thomas to the Higgs tent.

Almost everyone was now covered head to toe with ash. The majority of the people still continued to dance beside the flames in the middle of the ceremony, but older relatives and toddler aged children were over by their houses' areas, eating and drinking. Graces and Thomas had finally made it over to the Higgs tent and it was clear that most of the very young children still had not been taken through the bonfire. Neville watched as older cousins, parents, sisters and brothers picked up the tiny tykes on their hips and dashed back to the center with them.

Graces, Thomas and eventually Draco all ran back and forth taking sometimes two children at a time to dance a song or two with them ensuring that the young ones would be covered with the ash thought to purify and protect them through the new year.

Graces was captivating. Neville for the life of him could not remember a time where she was more beautiful than she was now. Her hair was a tangle of wind, sweat and dirt, her skin was caked gray, and she had an assortment of food sticking to her here and there from sticky fingers of the children she was twirling about. But she was in these moments the epitome of beauty. It took all of his will not to go up to her, interrupt her laughter with the child she was holding as she whirled her around on her hip and kiss her lips into silence.

After a full hour of dancing and running around non-stop with the children it finally seemed to catch up with her, and she carried the little one in her arms back to tent, looking as though she herself was going to collapse.

"Again, again!"

"Oh, darling, I can't," Graces panted, sitting at one of the long feasting tables and gulping down a glass of wine. "Let us do something else, huh?"

"Let Graces have some rest," Terrence chuckled, coming forward with his new born child asleep in his arms. "Have you even got a chance to sit and eat?"

"I was in high demand," Graces laughed, leaning her elbow on the table. "Higgs children love me."

"Higgs in general love you," Terrence corrected. "Help yourself and eat."

Graces smiled in thanks and grabbed a piece of chicken from tray.

"That's a girl," Terrence winked, turning to walk away.

"Oh! Can I hold the baby?" Graces asked, placing her food down and holding out her arms.

"Haven't you gotten enough children for one day?" the older man laughed.

"Those are toddlers, I haven't held the baby," Graces smiled, gesturing for Terrence to hand over the child. "Come on, if anything it will allow me to eat and rest. No one is going to go dragging me to dance with a sleeping babe in my arms."

Terrence seemed torn, but relented. Instructing Graces to give the child over to someone when she no longer wanted to hold him. Graces rolled her eyes and tutted for Terrence to leave her be and go back to doing patriarchal things.

It was the first time she had been alone in hours and Neville wondered if she remembered he was even there. Graces' eyes were transfixed on the tiny infant in her arms. Every once in a while she would reach out to the table to grab a pastry to nibble on, but other than that she just stared at the child placing her finger in its tiny hand as it slept.

"That's called palmar grasp," Graces murmured quietly. "It's a reflex that babies have. If you touch a newborn's palm, their fingers will close around yours or any other object you place there. It's a reflex, they don't know they are doing it. They just do."

"And here I was thinking you must have forgotten about me."

"I didn't," Graces smiled quietly, brushing the baby's cheeks with the tip of her fingers.

"You really like children, don't you?"

"Yes, I suppose I do," Graces hummed, leaning her head to rest on Neville's shoulder as he took a seat next to her. "I wish he wasn't covered in ash; I love how babies smell. Don't you?"

"This is the closest I have ever been to a baby," Neville admitted, looking down into her arms.

"Really?"

"Who in my family is able to bear children?" Neville chuckled.

"Would you like to hold him?" Graces asked, already shifting her arms.

"What?" Neville squeaked.

"Here, it's really easy just—"

"No. I-uh don't think that's a good idea. I can barely hold myself up let alone—"

"Shh," Graces hushed. "You'll wake him. Here, just support his head. Right, just like that."

"Graces, I'm going to drop it or—"

"He's not an it," Graces laughed. "You're doing fine, just relax. I'm right here, I won't let you harm him."

Neville was glad Graces couldn't see him, because he was at that moment terrified beyond wit. He could not believe he was holding such a little person. He was so tiny, Neville couldn't stop marveling over its teeny tiny fingers and toes. He wanted to reach out and touch them, but he also was too scared to not hold him with both arms.

"I wish I could see your face," Graces sighed.

"I'm very glad at the moment you can't," Neville replied, his voice giving Graces the explanation as to why.

"You're doing fine," Graces repeated. "Enjoy him."

"He's so small."

"He is." Neville knew Graces couldn't see him, but he had this odd feeling she was trying to look at him which really didn't make sense.

"Here, you should take him back before anyone sees," Neville said, placing the child back in Graces arms.

"No one is around and there is that huge center piece blocking anyone's view."

"Still, we should be cautious," Neville reminded, reaching out and brushing Graces cheek lingering near the warmth of her skin. "You look so beautiful, Graces," he whispered, leaning down and kissing her softly. "All night I've been in awe of how beautiful you are."

"Longbottom, this isn't the time or the place," she whispered, though it appeared she didn't seem to mind as much as she thought she should.

"I know," Neville murmured, kissing her cheek. "I just had to say it."

Graces blushed and looked down. "Are you enjoying the festival?" she asked, clearly trying to get off the subject.

"I am," Neville admitted surprised. "That opening song was amazing. I had no idea you could sing so well."

"Voice lessons," Graces shrugged. "Father insisted that I be as well rounded as possible."

Neville wanted to ask what other things he didn't know about her, but before he got the opportunity Graham Montague and a woman he assumed to be his mother came walking up.

"Merry meetings," Graces greeted quietly, moving her head lower in respect.

"Merry meetings," the older woman greeted, her hair gray like her husband's. "You sang beautifully earlier."

"That's very kind of you to say," Graces smiled.

"Graham, darling, don't you think Graces sang well?" Graham raised an eyebrow at his mother's question, but nodded in agreement. "He's not much of a talker," the plump woman bristled, clearly unhappy with her son's lack of charm.

Neville all of the sudden greatly disliked the woman in front of him. He had seen his gran do this song and dance multiple times when she felt two people would be good together, and he had a feeling that Mrs. Montague wanted her son to be with Graces.

"He's not," Graces agreed, sending Graham a sly smile. "He's more of a yeller."

"I'm just kidding," Graces giggled, as the older woman looked to her son with fury. "Graham is very kind, just not so much on the pitch."

"I would be kinder on the pitch if you and your brother weren't always dawdling."

"We're just making sure you keep on your toes, captain," Graces winked, adjusting her hold on the infant when he began to stir.

"Your daughter makes beautiful sons," Graces complimented, nodding to the little one in her arms. "If I could I would take this little one with me back to the dorms."

"She does," the older woman smiled, gently touching her sleeping grandchild's cheek. "You are good with him. You're good with all the children it seems. Your arm doesn't hurt from carrying them around as you danced?"

"It only hurts when I raise it. It healed fine, though. It should be better completely by summer."

"You should come to our manor then. Graham here I'm sure would love to see you, especially since he will be graduating and won't be in school with you after this year. He's already secured a job in the ministry," Mrs. Montague whispered proudly.

"That would be lovely."

No. No, it wouldn't be.

"Perhaps you two could even see each other more formally," she suggested, looking from her son to Graces. "I'm sure my son could make just as cute little ones."

Graham looked up to the sky for a moment, clearly trying to hide his embarrassment, before regaining himself and looking down to meet Graces' eyes.

"I have already asked Miss Malfoy if I could formally court her, mother," Graham informed quietly. "And, unfortunately for me, she declined."

"Oh." Graham's mother seemed at a loss for words at this new information. Neville could not imagine a more awkward situation. "Wh—"

"Graces! Graces! Graces!"

"Tabatha! Tabatha! Tabatha!" Graces whispered smiling as a dark-skinned little girl came squealing up to her. "Come make fay necklaces with us," the child whispered, noting the baby in her arms.

"I'm taking to Mrs. Mon—"

"No, go ahead," Graham interjected, holding his arms out. "Let me hold my nephew. You go make fay necklaces."

Graces obliged and stood up from her seat, silently mouthing a thank you to Graham as he took his nephew.

"Oh, and Malfoy..."

"Yes?"

"Nice scales," Graham observed lowly, allowing his eyes to rake down Graces side for a moment, before looking back up at her eyes. "The placement is very flattering on you."

Graces looked at the broad boy standing in front of her for a moment, unflinching from the fact they were mere inches apart and naked.

"It's a sacred day," Graces reminded evenly, "and we are on sacred ground."

"And I have only sacred thoughts," Graham promised. "You can glance down and have reassurance of that."

"Happy Samhain, Graham," Graces murmured, a small smile on the corner of her lips, leaving without a glance and bidding Mrs. Montague good night.

"Sacred thoughts, my ass," Neville growled, walking backwards as Graces followed Tabatha.

"I peeked in his head," Graces grinned. "He wanted to look, but he didn't."

"I'm sure he's seen all he wanted."

"Quick passing glances, but nothing lingering."

"I don't like that he's had passing glances."

"Jealousy doesn't suit you, Longbottom. It makes you seem possessive, and let me remind you that I'm not yours to be possessive with."

"You get jealous all the time," Neville argued, lowering his voice as Graces hushed him.

"I'm possessive," Graces shrugged. "And a Slytherin. You're a Gryffindor, aren't you all supposed to strive to be morally better?"

"Graces! Hurry up!"

"Coming, darling," Graces called, beginning to run forward. "Don't get fussy, Longbottom," she panted, leaping through the taller grass. "I'll let you make me yours all you want for a few hours tonight."

It really wasn't much of a consolation. Neville knew Graces was not his, that despite how their relationship progressed he only had borrowed time with her. What killed him the most was being here today and seeing that this was the world she wanted and he wasn't in a position to be a part of it while guys like Montague were and had the full support of their family to try and make her a part of it. One of the guys here that he saw interacting with Graces and paying respect to her family was going to be her husband. She was going to belong with him and his family, and he would be just a distant memory.

These were the thoughts that haunted him as Graces laid on her stomach in the flowers, weaving tiny necklaces out of stems and petals while other little ones crowned her with the ones they had made earlier. He loved her and he would have liked to build a life with her, but it just wasn't even imaginable. He had a feeling that she wouldn't want it, not at the cost it would be to her. If they were discovered she would be disowned and after being disowned would never be welcomed by this society. She wouldn't be laying in this field explaining what plants to use as the base of the necklace to ward off evil spirits or relighting sage around the field the children were playing in. All the traditions and people he saw her enjoying would be lost to her. And as much as it hurt, Neville understood why being with him was not worth that cost. He didn't have anything like this.

"What are you guys making?" Draco asked softly, entering the clearing.

"Fay necklaces!"

"Fay necklaces?" Draco repeated with overly enthusiastic excitement.

"Yeah, we are makin em to pwotect our mummies and daddies."

"And apparently Graces too," Draco laughed, looking at the assortments of necklaces and bracelets Graces was displaying.

"I'm makin' one for my sister," a small boy said proudly, lifting up a necklace displaying a multitude of crunched up leaves.

"Maybe someone should make one for Draco," Graces suggested excitedly.

"I'll make it." Neville looked over and saw Terrence's older son stand up from a group of boys. "My daddy said the Malfoys are a part of our family now. So I'll make it."

Neville smiled at the young child's self-importance and moved closer to watch him make what was going to be too small to be a necklace for Draco.

"Thank you, Clarence," Draco smiled, ruffing the boy's hair affectionately.

Clarence smiled proudly and continued to twirl the roots of some kind of plant together.

"Graces said roots are for strength and since you're a patwearch I think you needs lots of strength. My daddy told my mummy he worries you can't carry all the bordens. I don't know what bordens are, but he said it's too heaby for you so I'll make your fay necklace with only roots. That way you'll be stwonger."

Draco's smile quickly melted off his face. It was more obvious in times like this how lost Draco truly was. Neville looked away as Draco moved his right hand over his mark, a mixture of shame and fear washing over his face.

"Don't be sad," Clarence comforted, placing the necklace around Draco's wrist when he realized it was too small for his neck. "My daddy says he wants to help you, but he just doesn't know how yet. He'll figure it out though. He's smart. My daddy is bery strong too, he can carry pwobly a thousand bordens."

"A man can't carry another man's burdens," Draco lectured wistfully. "But your father is a fine man for wanting to."

"Graces, we should go join our friends," Draco suggested, standing up from the grass.

"Okay," Graces yawned, stretching slowly before standing up.

"Do you like my new jewelry?" Graces giggled as they headed towards a grouping of younger witches and wizards.

"It's very fine. I suppose you don't need all of the jewelry in your vault now," Draco smirked.

"I wouldn't go that far," Graces laughed. "Oh dear, the apples are out. I bet Pansy has been itching for this all night."

"Ugh, it's so stupid," Draco groaned.

"Graces! Draco!"

"Oh, gods, here we go."

Graces just laughed at her brother's trepidation and gleefully joined Pansy and the rest of her friends. Pansy was going around to everyone excitingly passing out big green apples. Draco accepted one and Neville bit his knuckles to keep from laughing as he noticed how rigid and taut the blonde boy's stance became as Pansy batted her eyelashes at him.

"What are the apples for?" Neville asked, as Graces went over to a table to grab a knife for her and her brother.

"It's so silly," Graces whispered, looking around. "We all sit around one another and peel the skin from the apple throwing the peels behind us. Supposedly the letter the peel forms is the first letter in the name of our future spouse. It's just something silly and fun, like the fay necklaces the children make."

It truly was a silly practice. Neville watched as the younger generations that had yet to get married and have families all sat on stumps peeling apples. He heard a few of the adults pass by chuckling at the activity before continuing on to other parts of the festival. It was all just a joke, an old practice of folklore that was just done to be silly. But as everyone proceeded to peel it was obvious why it was still practiced.

There was this feeling of communion while they all sat around doing this tedious act. Pansy kept giggling. Millicent continued to roll her eyes and half heartedly toss the peels. Draco it appeared was just trying to peel the apple in one single spiral, as though it were a challenge. Blaise just laughed and every once in a while would purposely throw his peels in Pansy's pile, to get the girl upset. Crabbe and Goyle seemed to be trying to mimic Draco's attempt at a single peel, and Graces was whispering excitedly to Higgs and every once in a while eating her peel instead of tossing it.

Neville listened as they all talked amongst themselves with a warm familiarity. Nothing of any true consequence was being said. Just regular chatter. Some of them were catching up with family members that were missed during the school year, and others were giggling about what letters they hoped would be behind them.

"Graces! You have two Zs!" Pansy squealed, looking behind her friend.

"Cara mia, it's a sign," Blaise exclaimed, jumping up from his stump and taking Graces hand on bended knee. "I told you you were meant to be mine."

"Oh Gods, not this," Graces cried, trying to take her hand away.

"My darling, what are you saying? Why are you not celebrating our sure betrothal?"

"It could be an N," Draco pointed out, cocking his head to the side. "You may be jumping the broom thinking it a Z."

"This is just silly," Graces scoffed, now eating her apple, clearly done with such nonsense.

"Oh, don't be sour," Pansy chided.

"I'm not sour. I just think it's silly," Graces clipped cooly.

"I always got an M," Narcissa Malfoy stated, walking up to where her children were seated.

"Did you?" both twins exclaimed.

"I did," Narcissa smiled. "Though I found out later your father had been spelling the peels that way," she added simply, laughing along with her children.

"Father's relentless," Graces commented, bending forward still laughing.

"I'm relentless," Blaise pointed out. "And you know what they say: girls marry men like their fathers."

"Her father is a much quieter man," Graham rebutted.

"Should we be planning to attend another Higgs wedding?" Millicent asked, nodding her chin to Thomas who blushed and looked away from Wendelin's glare.

"What you should be planning is to join your families at your tents now," Narcissa instructed, beckoning for the twins to follow her.

"The fog is coming in," Graces pointed out looking over at field beyond the circle of tents.

"It is," Narcissa observed. "Let's sit with the family and visit. I think it best no one tries to toe the veil tonight. Draco, I think you should announce to the family that you wish them to abstain from that practice."

"What's toeing the veil?" Neville whispered when Graces' mother sent her to fetch some wine.

"It's when you go out beyond the circle and cut your wrists and bleed out till you are close to death. The idea is that if you bring yourself near to death you will be able to glimpse beyond the veil and any ancestors or spirits that have a message will be able to communicate with you."

"That sounds really dangerous," Neville noted, watching as a very few people from the other houses left the circle.

"You just bring a blood replenishing potion," Graces shrugged, walking back to her family. "The frightening thing is when some people pass out from it before they take the potion or close their wounds."

"Do you think it works?" Neville asked.

"I don't know. Very few people do it and out of that few it is rare someone claims it worked. I think maybe once every few years someone gets a message, and I've always wondered if they just hallucinated it. People that toe the veil often fast before hand for three days."

"Have people died doing this?"

Graces shifted her eyes for a moment, and seemed to become uneasy at the question.

"I believe," she said slowly evaluating her words, "that those that do die wanted to… I think that they don't plan on killing themselves, but the disappointment of realizing that they will never speak to their beloved again is just too much for them to bare, so they decide to just join them."

"Have you ever considered toeing the veil?"

"No," Graces answered patiently. "I have no reason to. My loved ones are still here with me."

"If they weren't?" Neville asked, thinking of Draco and the dangers he was in.

"I would rather not think on such unpleasant scenarios," Graces answered warily.

"Right… sorry."

"It's fine," Graces smiled, moving her shoulders to bump Neville playfully. "The rest of the evening is just feasting with our families. We may play a few games together, even have some duels, but that's about it. Before we all leave we get some of the fire from the bonfires to use in our homes for the next year. We all like to grab some for our common rooms and dorm rooms as well."

"I thought it was the ash that protected you in the next year?"

"The ash does," Graces nodded. "But the fire banishes evil. It also represents how we have bonded together; that's why we throw a torch with the fire from our houses in the same bonfire. You'll notice not all pureblood families are here, that's part of the reason why. Not all of us want to be bonded together, and those we don't feel akin to celebrating with usually go to separate festivals."

"Some of the neutral families here may be willing to accept fire from your hearth, but others would not want it, you being a blood-traitor and all. So if you had come officially, they may have separated the bonfires more. For example: We toasted our fires together before throwing them in, had you been there we would have not done that. Instead those that did not wish to join fire with you would have waited to see which bonfire you chose and tossed theirs in the other."

"What if someone wanted to bond with both?"

"They would just toast their torches," Graces answered simply. "Honestly, we just try to keep the festivals with only those we want to bond with."

"I thought you said political feelings were put aside?"

"Enough to tolerate. No one here would have been rude to you and they would never discuss anything about you being here. This is a sacred place to us, and we would never disgrace it by behaving cruelly."

"But what—"

"Longbottom,"Graces smiled. "I have to get back to my family now."

"Oh, right. I'm sorry I keep taking your time and—"

"It's fine," Graces giggled. "I'm glad you're interested. We'll talk when we get back to the dorms."

"Wait." Graces stilled as Neville gently came behind her and softly placed his hands on her upper arms. "I-I wanted you to know that I really appreciate this," he whispered. "All of it. I-I can't begin to tell you how much it means to me that you shared this with me."

Graces tensed at the declaration and merely patted one of Neville's hands before hurrying off to join her family. Neville didn't really expect an answer from Graces after and spent the rest of the festival silently watching her with her family, enjoying the interactions despite not being able to understand a word they were saying.

ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

Neville quietly made his way up to Graces' room while the other Slytherins bid one another goodnight under Snape's hostile stare. It seemed the Professor did not trust his students to go into their own dorms at the end of the festival, and Neville had to bite his tongue to keep himself from laughing as he passed by him and Blaise pointed out that they could always join in each other's rooms other nights.

Neville immediately went to Graces' bed upon entering the room and made sure to close the curtains in case her charm wore off. It had certainly been an educational night. He still found the idea of running about naked odd, but it wasn't as distasteful as he had thought. He actually enjoyed being at the festival. It was truly interesting to see some of the old traditions still being practiced. He hadn't known about the half the things he saw there, most people discussed practicing Samhain as though it were men and women dancing around in a drunken stupor.

Samhain wasn't anything like that though. Yes there was dancing, and definitely an assortments of wine and spirits, but dancing naked around the bonfires wasn't as distasteful as other witches and wizards made it sound. It was all very tasteful, well, as tasteful as can be possible for dancing around naked. The point is that he enjoyed being there. Obviously, he didn't have any plans to become a part of these festivities. He would be out of place there and also would cause a lot of strife among his family, but he appreciated why others chose to celebrate it.

Neville heard the girls enter the room, a flutter of chatter as they disrobed and headed to the showers to wash off the ash from the festival. He listened as the water from the showers turned on and for a moment played with the memory of when he and Graces showered together. Laying in Graces' bed thinking of Graces and his endeavours was a much different experience than when he thought about it alone in his bed.

He could smell her all around him: lilies, white cotton and lavender assaulted his senses, making him feel drunk. He had always enjoyed the way Graces smelled. He loved how it lingered on his skin after a night with her and always wished he didn't have to shower her off in the morning. The faint smell of her was intoxicating, but the smell of her bed was mouthwatering. It was stronger, sweeter. He laid down on her pillow and could have sworn she was there with him now. It was an aroma that made him burn with need.

Graces didn't quite understand why she felt nervous, but as she left the showers she couldn't shake the butterflies that were now fluttering in her stomach. She knew Neville was waiting for her in her bed, probably in her sheets, and while a part of her couldn't wait to join him another part was terrified.

"Goodnight," Graces called, moving to her bed to open the curtains.

"Night," Millicent yawned. "Oh, and Graces don't forget the silencing spells."

"Yeah, Gray, I love you, but I can't stand to hear you screaming Draco's name like that. I wish you would take the potions."

"Yeah, you breaking my nose is not a good way to start the morning."

"Right, sorry," Graces blushed. "I'll be sure to set the charms. Good night."

Graces stealthily moved into the curtains of her bed, making sure to set the silencing charms and locking charms immediately before anything else. She could feel Neville next to her and after she was sure they wouldn't be heard or disturbed, made him visible.

"Hi," she greeted awkwardly.

Neville didn't look as she expected him to when she greeted him in nothing but a silk, baby-blue nightgown. She had imagined a much more passionate encounter, but instead Neville just peered up at her not making any move to even touch her.

"You're still having night terrors?" he asked, concern and shock evident in each syllable.

"No, not really." Graces tried to ignore how Neville's look was tying her into knots, like she should feel bad for not telling him such private things.

"Graces."

"I'm fine," Graces reassured as Neville took her arms.

"No, you're not, not if you are having nightmares like that. Graces, you can't do this. You just can't. Do you have any idea how dangerous it is?"

"I-I'm not having those terrors anymore."

"Your friends just said—"

"That was the other week, and it was a fluke."

"A fluke?"

"Yes, a fluke."

"I want you to speak to Pomfrey."

"I don't need to."

"Graces, I am not going to allow you to argue with me on this. Not when it comes to your health. You—"

"I'm fine, really I am. I swear."

Graces knew that Neville didn't believe her. He just knelt there, holding her arms and looking down morosely.

"I just want you to be well," Neville murmured. "I can't stand the thought of you screaming like you did in the hospital wing. I-I wish you would let me help you."

"You do," Graces blushed, looking up. "I—uh—don't have those terrors when we are—uh—on good terms…"

"What?"

"You know…" Graces mumbled, color flushing her cheeks.

Neville frowned before raising his brows.

"Oh gods, this is embarrassing," Graces moaned.

"No. No, it's fine," Neville reassured. "Really, it's fine. I just didn't know that was so essential to you being able to…" Neville let his words trail off, a bit too embarrassed himself to continue. "You know I—uh—sleep better after too, if that—"

"Longbottom," Graces interjected. "Don't."

"Right… Sorry… That's-that's not why you like me, right?

'What? No, of course not. How could you even think that?" Graces hissed, anger seeping out of her.

"I'm sorry. I just.. I'm sorry…"

Graces wished that she knew what to say to move past this awful moment, but nothing seemed to come to mind.

"You made yourself comfortable," she noted, looking at how Neville had dressed down to his boxers and tee.

Neville blushed and began to stutter out some apologies, but Graces just waved her hand.

"I didn't mean it like that. I was just reaching for something to say. I just wanted off the subject of... well, you know."

Graces didn't understand why this was so hard. It was just Longbottom. She spent plenty of nights alone with him. They were always together nowadays. This shouldn't be hard. It was never hard before.

You're making this hard.

"Would you like to try this again?" Neville asked patiently, sliding his hands up her arms to cup her face.

"Yes," Graces breathed, shuddering as Neville touched his lips to hers.

"Do you want to get under the covers?" Neville smirked, knowing the reason for Graces' shudder had nothing to do with the temperature in the room.

"Don't be a prat, Longbottom." Graces was sure she looked nervous, she certainly felt nervous, and no matter how hard she tried she couldn't stop touching her hair or blushing and looking away from Neville's stare.

"Are you okay?" Neville asked, taking on a more solemn look and sitting back.

"I-I'm sorry," Graces sighed. "I'm just tired… It's been a long night. I tend to get short when I'm tired."

"Well, let's lay down then." Neville was now adjusting Graces blankets and pillows for the two of them to lie down together. Graces wished he wouldn't, this was exactly the thing she was nervous about. "We don't have to sleep with one another every time we are alone," Neville chuckled.

Graces nodded awkwardly at Neville's joke and laid beside him, tensing as he wrapped his arms around her and breathed in the smell of her hair. It really did feel good. Graces tried to just close her eyes and allow herself this moment of bliss. But the longer she allowed it the more her heart ached. This was all a whisper of what couldn't be. In another world, another time, or just different fate she could lay in a soft bed with Neville, enjoying the heat from his body next to hers through the night and waking in the morning beside him. She could feel safe with him and believe she would always have him there to warm her bed. But this wasn't that world. They didn't exist in a place where any of that could happen. What they had was temporary, and if she allowed herself one night to pretend they weren't she knew it would not end with just that one night. She would just continue to slip into an abyss of delusion.

Graces knew herself well enough to know that if she allowed herself to she would be in love with Neville. She had never really believed that that was a possibility, but the more she spent time with him the more she realized she had been so naïve. It would be so easy to fall in love with Neville, all she had to do was let go and her heart would do the rest. But she couldn't. She knew what would happen if she did. She would fall and her heart would break. She wasn't even sure if she was going to survive the summer. In all probability she was going to be killed by June and she was at peace with that. She wouldn't be at peace with that if she thought she had something worth living for. No, it was better for her to not love Neville and to be happy to die with those she did.

"Longbottom," she rasped, after a few moments of laying together. "I—uh—I don't think it would be wise for you to spend the night."

"Oh." Graces could already hear the disappointment Neville had in just one syllable, but she nodded her head anyways.

"I'm sorry, I just don't feel right about you sleeping in my bed with me," Graces continued honestly.

"We can sleep together, but just not sleep together, right?" Neville surmised, bitterness intruding in his words, despite the understanding tone he was trying to maintain.

"Please don't be mad," Graces begged, taking Neville's hand. "I-I want you to, but I just can't."

"It's just sleeping," Neville whispered looking at her his hair disheveled from the pillow and a sad pleading look coming onto his features.

"Not to me."

Graces felt as though her whole body was vibrating as she waited for Neville to respond.

"Okay," he murmured softly, moving into her and kissing her gently on the cheek.

Don't forget to follow/review! I hope you all enjoyed the chapter, I know some of you were a bit skeptical about the festival, but hopefully I didn't drop the ball.