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

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

Special thanks to cocoatd, Blue Luver5000, Bharm, Guest, spannieren and bekkivobekki for the reviews! And another thank you to noone297 for the PMs!

Chapter 41

Graces would be lying if she said that she didn't regret kicking Neville out of her bed last night. She had regretted it the moment he had left. And it wasn't just because of the dejected look Neville had acquired at the news of her discomfort, it was because she truly wanted him there. She had never really felt anything like this before. Infatuation was a normal part of life. She had been witness to other people's crazed need to be with someone they fancied all the time, but she had never been a part of that. Graces, even when she and Nott were in the beginnings of their relationship, never wanted to be around Nott all the time. She did want to be around Neville though. That was probably the reason she was practically running to the greenhouse for class. She longed to be near him, though it had only been mere hours since their last meeting.

It's normal to want to be around the guy you fancy, she reassured herself, thinking of all her friends' crushes. I'm perfectly normal for wanting to be around him.

You kicked him out of your bed to protect yourself from falling for him. How do you know you are not falling now?

I'm not.

You should end this. You are not thinking of the consequences should you two be discovered.

We won't be discovered.

"Good morning," Graces greeted quietly taking her usual spot at their herbology desk, determined to ignore that snide voice in her head.

"Morning," Neville murmured, continuing to look forward but allowing a soft smile to curl the edges of his mouth.

"So, uh, you're not cross are you?" Graces asked, knowing that kicking a boy out of your bed at the end of an evening would certainly warrant said boy being a bit miffed.

"Cross?" Neville mouthed, a slight furrow in his brow as he processed Graces' question. "Oh, no. I'm not cross," Neville chuckled warmly. "In fact, I have even brought you a gift."

"A gift?" Graces had to prevent herself from completely turning her head to face Neville at the news that he had brought her a gift. "What kind of gift?"

"It's on your seat," he shrugged, trying to be as casual about his surprise as possible. "I didn't want it to be obvious in case people were around."

Graces peered up at Neville hesitantly for a moment before slowly pulling out her stool. It was a fay bracelet, like the children had made for her, only much more elaborate. A hawthorn vine was used as a base for the piece, bits of white clovers woven into it and almond blossoms were braided inside the wormwood through the base while the small blooms edged around. Graces imagined it took hours to make. Every part of it was intricately done, right down to the salvia clasp.

"This is stunning," Graces breathed.

"It's just a fay bracelet," Neville chuckled. "You should put it on before anyone sees."

"I can't wear this," Graces whispered, putting her hands under the table while she evaluated the workman ship more. "No one would believe a child made this. They wouldn't know how to spell the plants to bend like this."

"A child indeed could make that," Neville argued, lowering his voice as people took their seats. "No spells were used, except a preservation one at the end. I know a child can make it, because I made an exact copy of that one as a child. I used to make fay jewelry all the time."

"You made exact replicas of this as a child?" Graces asked, unable to hide her astonishment.

"Yeah, that was the one I made the most. I would spend a few hours each day making them. My gran still has most of the ones I made her. She keeps them in this wooden box in her closet. She just loved wearing them and telling people that I made them. I hadn't had any accidental magic, but I was talented in something at least."

Graces continued staring at the bracelet. Hawthorn: hope. White clover: think of me. Almond blossom: hope. Salvia: to heal. Fay necklaces held meaning. It was a silly way to allow young children to feel that they were helping others before they could do magic, the thought being that if you raised a child that would work to make such pieces, you would raise a child to use their talents in magic to help others. She remembered making her grandfather a necklace out of salvia when he went to St. Mungos before he passed away.

She remembered crying for hours after his death. She was sure it was because she didn't use enough Salvia. That was the day her mother had told her that fay necklaces didn't do anything. It was just something children make to allow them to feel helpful, and that it made her grandfather happy because his granddaughter wanted to help.

"Who did you make the fay pieces for?" Graces asked cautiously.

She noticed Neville's back stiffen at the question and immediately had an idea as to why he became so practiced in making fay jewelry.

"Just family members." Neville shrugged. "My gran, Uncle Algie, grandfather before he passed... and my mum and dad."

The last two were said so quietly that Graces was sure Neville had been hoping she wouldn't hear it. Graces stared down at the beautiful bracelet and gingerly touched her thumb to white clover: think of me. It was a heart wrenching thing to see on a fay bracelet that was a mimic of the one he had made for his parents. Graces couldn't even imagine longing for such a thing; she knew without a shadow of a doubt that her parents thought of her. Which lead her to wonder just how insane were Neville's parents if they couldn't think of their son?

She looked up at Neville, her eyes alive with a million questions, but unsure as to how to ask any of them.

"I-I thought if I made one exceptionally well it would change things…" Neville continued, clearly embarrassed but wanting to explain himself." It didn't, though. Took me years to realize, but I finally did. They're just plants woven together to look pretty; they don't actually help."

"Oh, N—Longbottom." Pain like this was not something Graces had ever had to encounter on another's behalf. She wanted to place her hand over Neville's and comfort him, but with the audience around she couldn't. All she could do was try to offer words, and she didn't see words as much comfort. "It's the thought that makes loved ones feel better. That you took the time to make the bracelets. I'm sure they appreciated it. It's so beautiful, how could they not?"

"They didn't."

"What makes you thi—"

"I don't want to talk about this," Neville rasped, opening his book and pretending to read the index. "Can we please just drop this."

Graces didn't want to drop this. She wanted to discuss this matter with Neville. She had a feeling that the boy beside her didn't discuss his parents with anyone.

"Another time?" she tried hopefully. Neville looked over at her briefly before begrudgingly nodding.

Wanting for Neville to feel even the slightest bit better she placed the bracelet on her own arm. She felt a deep-seated warmth towards the boy next to her as he watched her gingerly clasp the bracelet.

"Graces, you don't have to—"

"I really like it," she murmured, not wanting to hear Neville tell her she didn't have to wear it. "It's charming. No one ever makes me things, they always buy me things."

She offered Neville a small smile, which he returned affectionately. Graces had a feeling that if they were alone he would have kissed her.

He's a good kisser, she thought, allowing her thoughts to wander. As Professor Sprout talked about soil in different regions, she was imagining gently taking Neville's lower lip between her teeth—causing the shy boy to become just slightly more forceful with her.

"Can we meet tonight?" she asked after a while of imagining the sort of escapades she and Neville could get tangled up in.

"Have I ever said no?" Neville smirked, making sure to face forward so people didn't know they were speaking with such affection.

"Can it be a bit late? I have plans after dinner, but I was hoping you and I could meet after curfew."

"After curfew, huh? You realize should I be caught I would have detention. Not all of us have prefect badges to wave around."

"I'll make it worth your while," Graces promised. "Do you like baths, Longbottom? I do. Long, hot ones with lots of bath salts. I swear there's nothing like sinking into something that feels so luxuriously warm after a long day." Graces peeked behind her long lashes, and could see color starting to spread through Neville's cheeks as he tried to maintain a composed look while listening to Professor Sprout's instructions. "Maybe tonight, if you're up for it, we could take a bath together," she suggested casually.

"Yeah, that would be nice," Neville agreed tightly, moving his seat further towards the desk.

"You're flushing, Mr. Longbottom," Graces teased lowly as she took a few notes down from the lecture. "You know being so flushed could indicate a fever, are you feeling well? Maybe we shouldn't meet tonight."

Graces knew Neville was trying to give off the impression that her teasing was not well received, but he was failing miserably. Though he was pursing his lips and refusing to answer her, he also had this shine to his eyes and the edges of his mouth were fighting against a grin.

"You're trying not to smile," Graces sang quietly when Professor Sprout turned to pick up another pot of soil from Romania.

"You're such a prat," Neville snorted, grinning from ear to ear as he shook his head in disbelief.

"You're a prat," Graces retorted in a way that spoke of years of having a sibling.

"Mr. Longbottom, Miss Malfoy, do you have something to share with the class?"

"Longbottom's a prat," Graces repeated unabashed over her partner's embarrassed stutterings of no.

"Miss Malfoy! Five points from Slytherin."

"I don't see how that's fair," Graces scowled. "You asked if we had anything we would like to share. I assumed that you were asking what we were talking about and I had just called Longbottom here a prat. How was I supposed to know you were being facetious?"

"Five points for impudence and another five points for insulting Mr. Longbottom."

"He called me a prat first; I was merely responding to his insult."

"Miss Malfoy, are you trying to gain a detention for tonight?" Professor Sprout asked, clearly losing her patience.

Graces looked as though she were going to make a biting retort, but before she could get it out Neville kicked her shin from the side. The stout older witch seemed to assume that the young boy had done such action for her, but Graces knew it was because he definitely did not want her in detention and missing their plans.

"No, Professor," she grumbled, sending Neville a glare that told him he would be paying dearly for that.

"Good," the Hufflepuff clipped. "And Neville could you please not antagonize Miss Malfoy? No matter how much she may be deserving," she added under her breath.

"Should I tell her you called me a prat for making you smile," Graces whispered.

Neville didn't respond, but he did bring his hand up to hide his smile behind his rest of the class was dedicated to work. Most of the work was going around all the greenhouses and taking notes so later they could write papers on why certain soils were being used for specific plants. Graces and Neville found themselves in greenhouse five when Neville stole a kiss behind some overgrown shrubs. A few months ago Graces would have had a fit and pushed him away while chastising him for the action, but this wasn't a few months ago, this was now. Instead she closed her eyes and enjoyed kissing him.

sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

"Bout time you showed up." Graces smiled, standing up from the wall she was leaning on.

Neville had come to accept the fact that he was never going to get over Graces Malfoy. His heart was always and forever going to be hers. He could not imagine having this overwhelming feeling of affection for anyone else. He loved her teasing ways, her little smirk, her lively gray eyes—when did the color gray become lively? He didn't want to love anyone else. He wanted to forever be smitten with Graces Malfoy.

"Sorry, I couldn't find my coat."

"Where do you last remember having it?" Graces asked serenely.

"I don't remember," Neville shrugged, not really caring about his coat any longer and moving closer her.

"It was a nice coat," Graces continued. "Very plain, just a black winter coat, but I definitely prefer it on you over those hideous sweaters."

"I shall be sure to buy a new coat then," Neville murmured, kissing her neck.

"With the money from your business?"

Neville paused his endeavours and straightened his back so he was now looking down at the blonde.

"Did you forget about giving me your gold?"

"I had," Neville said slowly, under the suspicion that he was about to be chastised once again for his forgetfulness.

"Where did you think it was?"

Neville tried to ignore the heat that was spreading through his cheeks. "I just completely forgot about it," he admitted.

He waited for Graces to begin berating him for his inattentions, but she just nodded her head and let him know that she had both his money and his coat before leading him the rest of the way to the prefect bathrooms.

Despite Graces' lack of yelling and seemingly understanding attitude he still felt incredibly embarrassed. Most people did not forget about 3000 gallons, nor did they leave their coat in a room where they definitely shouldn't have been. He knew that Graces had seen how forgetful he was over the years, but he also felt like that part of him hadn't been shown in awhile. He liked not being seen as an idiot all the time.

"I-I don't mean to be forgetful," he began, no longer comfortable with the silence. "I just am. It's not that I'm lax or anything. I'm just absent minded because I'm thinking of other things and, well—"

"We all have flaws," Graces cut in dismissively, continuing forward without even a glance.

Neville wasn't quite sure what that meant. Did Graces truly believe imperfections were unimportant, or did she just not want to discuss his flaws? "I've reminded you that I'm an idiot, haven't I?"

"Low self-esteem is also a flaw," Graces clipped coolly. "A flaw which I place full responsibility on your grandmother for. Patriarchs need to be confident in their abilities while aware of flaws. Your gran should have realized raising you with confidence was more important than scolding you."

"My grandmother was just—"

"You should hire someone to keep you organized once you graduate," Graces interrupted, obviously not wanting to hear any excuses he was going to offer on behalf of his gran. "An assistant would help you greatly as well as ensure that no money went forgotten. When you get married perhaps your wife could take care of such matters for you," she added softly as they neared the prefect entrance.

"It shouldn't be my wife's responsibility to keep track of my mistakes."

"Couples often times are better when they complete one another," Graces lectured. "What one partner lacks the other can make up for and vice versa. It's better to keep such things in mind when courting."

"What are you bad at?"

"Overreacting, taking on too many tasks, not handling stress in a healthy manner, lacking warmth, refusing to eat anything well-balanced, running to my mummy and daddy for every little thing." Graces laughed heartily before adding Draco to that list. "Gardening. I'm sure there is more, but I'm not a patriarch. My flaws are of little importance. They will affect me and my own, but not the whole of our family."

"You're an heir," Neville pointed out. "Shouldn't you be learning things a patriarch should possess?"

"I will never be the head of my family, Longbottom."

Neville was about to say something along the lines of "you never know", but stopped himself from making such a foolish comment.

"I'd be a good match for you."

You stop yourself from making a foolish comment and then say an even more foolish one?

"You wouldn't be able to handle me." Graces grinned slyly after muttering the password to the bathroom in front of a large statue.

Just let it end there.

"I think I could." You're an idiot and I hate you.

Graces turned in front of him, preventing him from going any farther into the bathroom, and stared at him quizzically.

"What exactly are you trying to say, Longbottom?"

"I, uh, what do you think I'm trying to say?" Neville blundered nervously.

"I think you are suggesting that I would be well suited to marry you."

"I, uh, well, maybe not marry me, but be a couple possibly, or just formally court or—"

"Those all eventually lead to the discussion of marriage," Graces said, her steel eyes piercing into him.

"I-I'm just saying that we're well suited for one another by your definition," Neville whispered, embarrassed under Graces hostile glare. "I'm not saying I would marry you or anything, frankly right now I just want to run away from you, but I'm just saying we complement one another."

Graces seemed to be evaluating all that Neville had said, she didn't release him from her ominous gaze, and Neville would be lying if he said he wasn't relieved when she just turned around and continued walking. He continued to stare at the blonde as she made her way over to a small room to the side where some cubbies and fresh towels were. He really hadn't a clue about what Graces thought on the subject. Her face displayed no hint allowing him to know if she agreed or disagreed.

"Uh, you know if you ever wanted more, I wouldn't be opposed to us d—"

"What I want" Graces cut in, a sultry smile on her lips as she began to unbutton her blouse. "Is for you to undress and meet me in the bath."

Neville felt his mouth go dry as Graces allowed her skirt to fall about her ankles before stepping out of it and lazily walking away. The Gryffindor had half a mind to continue the same manner of undressing and follow her, but with his lack of grace he would probably end up stumbling out of his pants rather than stepping out of them. Hurriedly he began taking off his clothes, not bothering to even unzip or unbutton them properly before bundling them up in a ball and throwing them in an open locker. When he emerged from the small closet he was taken aback to find Graces in a robe.

"A bit overzealous, Longbottom?" she asked cheekily, raising an eyebrow as she sat beside the water's edge and poured a purple oil from a crystal vase into the pool like bath. Neville could feel the heat rising to his cheeks and absently moved his hands to cover his more private parts. "Robes are in the closet, Longbottom," Graces giggled. "No need to rush. it takes some time to draw a bath."

Graces had to bite her lower lip to keep from snickering at Neville as he took a few timid steps backwards to the closet and whipped a robe off the rack, hurriedly dressing himself.

"I did appreciate the show. It was very… excited."

"You're such a sweetheart," Neville murmured sarcastically, blushing scarlet.

"I am," Graces pouted, twirling her fingers in the water, sending out small ripples. "I'm drawing you a bath. I think that would be considered sweet." Graces peeked up through her long eyelashes and saw it was working. Despite Neville's best efforts to look sour he was already beginning to fold. "Has anyone ever given you a massage before?"

"Uh, no," Neville said cautiously, looking over at the water.

"Come," Graces ordered, gesturing for Neville to get in. "I'll give you one."

"No, no, no. It's fine. You don't have to."

"I want to," Graces smiled, gesturing again to the water.

Neville raised an eyebrow, but obeyed and walked over to the water. Graces tried not to hide her amusement as he awkwardly disrobed and tried to maneuver into the water so she wouldn't see.

"I've already seen everything, you know."

"Yes, well," Neville cleared his throat. "You weren't exactly examining it those times."

"Feeling a bit exposed, Longbottom? Getting coy?"

"Just trying to adjust to the water… It is a bit hot," Neville murmured quietly. "Are you going to come in with me?"

"Not yet," Graces mused, kicking up some water with her legs and splashing Neville playfully. "I'm going to give you a massage." Neville nodded and seemed to be trying to shrink into himself. "I suppose I should come over there if you're going to be shy," she winked, turning on an amber jeweled tap as she passed it.

"Do all those taps do something?" Neville asked as bubbles began to climb all around him.

"Yes, the purple oil I was putting in is mine. I believe I've mentioned I have sensitive skin. The oil is lavender, the only thing I don't break out in hives to. The tap I just put on is an oatmeal bubble. It's rare I can stand to be in a bubble bath with no reaction, but I recently was told that particular tap is for sensitive skin." Graces took a seat at the edge and waited for Neville to come sit at her legs. "I won't bite, Longbottom."

"Right, you'll just stab me with a knife," Neville joked, obviously feeling better now that there were bubbles hiding him underneath the water.

"That was one time," Graces laughed.

"One time is enough."

Graces couldn't believe that they were joking about that night. Neville didn't seem to find her stabbing him a big deal at all now, despite how painful the whole ordeal had been for him. Most people would never go near someone who poisoned a dagger and then drove that dagger in their skin, but Neville was not most people. He instead had taken a seat in front of her and was leaning back against the tub while her legs dangled to his sides.

Graces absently brushed his hair to the side as he leaned his head down and closed his eyes. He really was an amazing man: kind, affectionate, trusting; and he was becoming more and more handsome to her with each passing day. She was sure Neville wasn't physically changing all that much. Yes, he had lost weight, but it was more than that to her.

"I forgot to shave."

"What?" The blonde immediately moved her hands up, she hadn't realized that she had absently been playing with the stubble on Neville's jaw until he spoke.

"I forgot to shave this morning," he repeated, not bothering to open his eyes, clearly content to lay between her legs as she stroked his face. "It grows really fast. I usually will go back to the dorm and shave if I forget in the mornings, but…" Neville let his voice trail off and just shrugged.

"I kind of like it," Graces admitted, allowing herself to continue touching him.

"Then I shall forget more often," Neville smirked.

"Don't grow a beard or anything."

"Mmm, so you just like the stubble?"

"I like the stubble," Graces conceded, leaning down and kissing Neville softly, not moving away when he wound his fingers through her hair and opened his mouth to her. "This is a very uncomfortable position for me," Graces murmured between kisses, still bent down.

"Then come inside the pool."

"It's a tub," Graces whispered against his lips.

"That's debatable."

Graces let out a small sigh against Neville's next kiss. It always astounded her how good of a kisser he kiss and she was melting into him, wanting nothing more than to bend to his every wish.

"Come into the tub," he suggested, moving his hands up above his head and opening her robe to tempt the peaks of her breasts.

"No, I want to give you a massage," Graces insisted, though she didn't pull away from Neville's lips.

"I'll give you something to massage."

"Stop it," Graces laughed, sitting back up and closing her robe around her.

"I thought the whole point of this was to take a bath together," Neville groaned, not at all liking how Graces had covered herself.

"All in good time, Mr. Longbottom," Graces promised, kissing the side of his jaw while moving her hands to his shoulders. "Just relax."

Graces could feel Neville tense despite her request, but patiently ignored his taut muscles. She decided to start slowly and just run her fingers through his hair. He did after all seem relaxed when she was just touching his face, so hair couldn't be all that different. At first he had frowned, but as she began to apply pressure to his scalp his face relaxed and she could tell by the way his lower lip fell open slightly that he was beginning to enjoy it. Slowly she moved lower to his neck and shoulders, rotating between the two and frowning at all the knots.

"I thought massages were supposed to feel good," Neville gritted, as she pressed her thumb harder into his shoulder.

"You have a lot of knots," Graces sighed. "It will feel better once I work some of them out. If you had better posture you wouldn't have so many knots. You always slouch."

"You're starting to sound like my gran," Neville muttered, letting out a yelp as Graces smacked his forehead.

"Don't get cheeky," she scolded, going back to his shoulders. "I'm trying to help you."

"It feels like you're trying to tear my muscles apart," Neville said, arching his back.

"Just relax," Graces cooed, leaning down and kissing his temple softly. "Just relax and trust me."

Neville bit his tongue and let Graces continue. He tried to take his mind off the pain and think of other things, like how Graces had her hands all over him and how thoughtful and kind she was being. No one had ever given him a massage. He honestly never even thought to have one. Sure, sometimes he would massage his shoulders after a long day bent over soil, but it never occurred to him to have someone else rub them.

Graces wanted to, though. She wanted to rub his shoulders and draw him a relaxing bath. She wanted him to improve his posture and have more confidence. She thought of his future beyond just a simple life of being a professor and talked about him opening up businesses and developing plants. She thought he could be a great man, that he already was a good one.

"What?" Graces asked.

"What?"

"You're looking at me funny," Graces commented, still making circular movements with her thumbs and looking down at him.

"Am I?" Neville breathed, taking in her features as her hair fell down around him.

"You are."

"Sorry, I-I was just thinking of something."

"About how pretty I am?" Graces teased.

"Breathtaking was the word that came to mind, but yes."

"You're such a sap," Graces scoffed, rolling her eyes.

"Come into the bath," Neville implored, turning around and tugging at Graces robe.

"Enjoy your backrub," Graces countered, turning him around again. "I think you were just starting to enjoy it," she whispered in his ear, her hot breath tickling his ear and sending a shot of pleasure down his body.

She had been correct, he was starting to enjoy the feeling of her hands rubbing against his muscles. The pain and discomfort was now being replaced with something a lot more pleasant. There was still at times a flash of pain, but it was replaced by an echoing feeling of relief as his muscles relaxed around the area.

"This feels nice," he murmured sleepily, closing his eyes.

"I know it does."

"Who gives you massages?"

"Draco sometimes will, if I look tense or if practice was particularly brutal, but more often I have a massage when I go to the spa."

"The spa, huh?" Neville chuckled.

"What?" Graces laughed.

"You go to the spa and I like to be knee deep in soil and fertilizer. We're just a pair aren't we?"

"I think you would enjoy going to a spa, have a professional work some of these knots out."

"I don't want to be responsible for murder," Neville yawned.

"Murder?" Graces said slowly.

"You would kill the poor woman that touched me. I thought for a moment you were going to hurt Professor Sprout for putting some of that balm on me at the lake. Not to mention the looks you give Hermione and Hannah, yeah pretty sure if I let some witch rub me down you would hunt her down."

"I told you I was possessive," Graces reminded warmly, moving just under his shoulder blades to massage.

"I don't mind," Neville murmured, moving his hands to her dangling legs and running his fingers up and down the soft skin. "You may not be mine to be possessive with, but I'm all yours."

Everything was right on the tip of his tongue. Neville felt as though he were nodding off to sleep and drunk in euphoria, he knew he had just said something he should have held back, but he didn't care. He could feel a million other words right at the opening of his mouth. I love you being the most prominent cluster.

The declaration was just pounding against his teeth. He wanted to say it, it felt right for now to be the time when he just gave it all up and told her. I love you, I love you, I love you. It was all he could even think about now. He felt as though just saying those three measly little words would take some sort of weight off him.

Wanting to preoccupy his traitorous lips, he turned and slowly began kissing the inside of Graces' leg. He etched the words slowly with his tongue as he moved to her knee.

He could feel his breathing becoming labored and his heart hammering against his chest the more he kissed her skin. Graces seemed to be affected too. Her fingers had paused in their work, and the skin he was kissing was now raised with goosebumps. If anything it fueled him more and placed even more words of affection into his contained speech.

Neville felt Graces' movements as she discarded her robe and moaned as she began nibbling on his ear while she lowered herself behind him into the hot water. Her fingers still nimbly working down his spine until she was massaging his lower back. It felt so wonderful being taken care of like this. Having the woman of his dreams massaging his sore muscles while kissing his neck and shoulders affectionately. He leaned back and captured Graces' lips with his own in a searing, blood-boiling kiss.

It was a kiss that he was too afraid to allow to stop. "I love you" had turned into "gods above, I love you". There was no way he was going to be able to keep it in if this continued, so he kept his mouth busy and tried to keep his mind far from thinking about how much he loved her. It was proving more and more difficult as their kissing continued.

"I told you, all in good time," Graces breathed, sucking on his lower lip and reaching her arms around to stroke his aching length. "Isn't the bath so much better when you're relaxed?"

Neville hummed a reply against her lips and held his breath as she broke away and moved in front of him. Neville smiled as Graces hesitated before him, hiding in a mound of bubbles as her eyes hungrily took him in.

"I swear you could be part veela," Neville breathed, parting the bubbles so he could gaze at her glistening chest.

"I'm going to pretend you didn't just call me a half-breed," Graces quipped, though she blushed from the compliment all the same.

Neville stayed seated where he was and just drank her in. The words once again were playing on his tongue. He wanted to bring her in close and whisper his endless love into her neck and kiss her soundly before she could reply.

"Come here," he smiled, taking her hands and guiding her forward until she stood against his knees. He let go of her palms and brushed his knuckles against her soft skin before gently running his hands down her side to her hips, smirking as he felt the smooth dragon scales..

"You like them, right?" Graces asked, allowing him a glimpse of her insecurities.

"I love them," Neville corrected, looking up into her silver eyes. "I really do. I absolutely love them. And I love that you let me place them." Graces gave a small relieved smile, which Neville didn't hesitate to kiss. He could feel her hands beginning to seek him out, wandering up from his chest back to the scruff along his chin as she climbed on top of him so she was now straddling him. He was still looking at her, his eyes now parallel with hers and he couldn't help but wonder what she was thinking. He brought his hand to cup her face, allowing his thumb to trace the outline of her high cheek bones, before moving to her soft lips. "Graces," he whispered, in a daze of euphoria. "I—"

Neville didn't have a chance to utter more as Graces' soft lips gently silenced his. She kissed him again, hesitantly testing as though she still after all this time felt a need to ask permission. Neville answered by wrapping his arms around her back and pulling her closer to him, so that the bristle of hair on his chest was against her smooth skin as she lowered herself on top of him.

He groaned as she took her time slowly sinking over him. She would lower herself down an inch and lift herself up, slowly gaining another inch with each movement. She was so tight. Neville groaned at how tight she was. One moment he wanted to thrust up and have her take all of him, and the next moment he would see her biting her lip and he was instantly reminded he didn't want to hurt her. So he held back and gritted his teeth as she stretched herself out around his unyielding thickness. Neville hissed with pleasure as Graces slid up the last stretch and back down so he was now completely embedded in her.

Neville closed his eyes and leaned forward so that his head was resting against her chest as he tried to compose himself. Graces started to move, but he quickly grabbed her hips to steady her.

"You feel too good," he chuckled, looking down into the water slightly embarrassed. A shiver went down his spine as Graces hands moved to his hair, tipping his head up to her's so she could kiss him longingly while she pushed her hips forward and back allowing him to go deeper.

"Graces," Neville protested.

"I don't care," she panted, continuing to slide up and down him, her own breathing becoming more erratic and her skin flushing pink. "We can go again later. I don't want to stop."

Neville was not about to argue, especially when Graces was rolling her hips in a way that had his vision blurring. The need to have her twisted inside him violently, like a brush fire raging within him. He slid his lips down her body, closing them around the one crevice only to move to the next. He held her back as she arched into him, the sounds coming from her mouth a testament to her own fulfillment. He tried to hold back, but the sounds she was making alone had him over the edge with passionate need. He gripped her hips tightly, moving her faster while he desperately tried to taste every inch of skin he could reach. He could feel his climax growing and shuddered as he became close to letting go.

Then suddenly it was gone and he and Graces stilled as they heard the ominous sound of the statue dragging along the stone ground at the entrance.

"What was that?" Neville whispered, Graces eyes telling him everything.

"Hide. Hide," she mouthed hysterically, pushing Neville away to the stairs and swearing to herself over and over. Neville did as he was told and chose to hide behind another doorway where it seemed showers were kept. He could hear the footsteps of someone approaching and looked to see how Graces was handling the prospect of an intruder.

He was surprised to see that the blonde had managed to gather herself and was sitting at the other side of the tub her head laying along the side as though she were just relaxing from a hard day. The only telltale sign that something was amiss was how flushed her face was and that her chest was heaving from breathing so hard. He wondered who exactly was coming in and prayed that whoever it was would just leave when seeing that the bath was preoccupied.

Unable to keep his curiosity at bay, peeked out from a crack in the door to see who was closing in on the room

Fuck.

"Oh," Hermione exclaimed startled. The bushy-haired girl quickly turned away from the bath so she was facing the closet from which she had just emerged. "I'm sorry, I-I didn't realize anyone was in here."

"Well, someone is," Graces drawled.

"Right… sorry," Hermione said faintly, clutching her bathrobe around herself tightly.

Graces didn't bother to reply, she just leaned back and closed her eyes, as though she were just basking in the warmth of the water.

"Umm, how long do you think you will be?"

"An hour and a half," Graces clipped, still keeping her eyes closed.

"You're kidding," Hermione deadpanned. Graces just ignored Hermione's outrage and sighed contently. "It takes you an hour and a half to wash?" Hermione continued skeptically.

"I'm not washing, I am relaxing and enjoying a hot bubble bath." When there was no sound of Hermione leaving, she sat up and stared over at the Gryffindor glaring at her."I realize that I am quite attractive, but I would appreciate you leaving now. I don't like other people watching me bathe," Graces added with a smirk.

"You do not need an hour and a half to relax in the tub. Not when other people are waiting for it."

"I see no other people; I just see you."

Hermione looked as though she wanted nothing more than to whip out her wand and hex Graces, but she didn't. Instead she raised her chin in the air and declared that she would wait.

"Excuse me?"

"I'll wait," Hermione repeated, striding over to an empty couch and taking a seat. Making sure to pull her robe close around her as she sat down. "I refuse to leave."

"Suit yourself," Graces sang, lifting one of her legs out of the water and examining the skin. Neville wondered if she was purposely trying to make Hermione uncomfortable. Part of him wished she would stop, while the other part of him hoped that was exactly what she was doing and Hermione would leave. Unfortunately, for both him and Graces, Hermione just looked the other way, her mouth twisted as though she had ate something sour.

Neville was beginning to realize that Graces was not the only strong-willed girl in that room. Hermione and Graces both were clearly not going to budge from their decision to not leave. Hermione sat reading a book bristling over the blonde in the pool who was now floating on her back, completely unashamed over her humble mounds sticking up from the water like islands in an ocean.

"Why won't you leave Neville alone?" Hermione asked, breaking the silence and moving to the edge of the water to glare down at the girl before her.

"Leave him alone," Graces frowned. "Now, why would I do that? Longbottom needs my help, and I owe him a debt."

"You know what I mean," Hermione gritted. "Why are you toying with him? Flirting with him, touching his arm, asking him to help you with herbology, isolating him from his friends. Why are you doing this?"

"Now, Granger," Graces smiled, wafting the water around her lazily "I would think that's obvious. I'm doing it because of you."

"Please, stop," Hermione choked. "Please."

"No."

"Neville's a good guy," Hermione hiccuped, a few tears spilling out of her eyes. "A sensitive guy, he doesn't deserve to be hurt because you want to assert dominance over me."

"I do love hearing you grovel," Graces mused.

Hermione pursed her lips and gritted her teeth. Neville watched as her posture became taut and her brown eyes darkened.

"He doesn't actually like you, you know?"

"Hmm?"

"Neville. He doesn't actually like you."

Graces was now sitting up in the tub. If Hermione had wanted her attention she now had it.

"He certainly seems like he does."

"He's just infatuated with you," Hermione shot, rolling her eyes. "Like you said, you have an effect on men. Neville is just confused. He would never really want to be with a girl like you? He just doesn't know you. I don't know what you're saying to him when you two are alone, if you're continuing that awful act of being interested like you did in potions, but even so, Neville will figure it out."

"Maybe he will, maybe he won't," Graces sang, moving her hand down the middle of her breasts. "My mother always said men were weak."

"They just love pretty things," Graces sighed. "Especially at this age. All the teenage hormones running wild. They don't think of anything else except how to get their hands where they don't belong."

"Neville's better than that. He cares for people. He's going to realize that he wants to be with a kind, generous, sweet girl and that as pretty as you are you're just vile on the inside."

"Longbottom is a man just like the rest of them," Graces scoffed. " Hell, even Weasley is obsessed with such notions. Snogging Lavender in any dark corner he can find. Even so called righteous good men like gorgeous women warming their beds."

Graces was now moving out of the water, slowly climbing the stairs where Hermione was standing, allowing her golden hair to fall dripping wet on her back. Completely unashamed of her body, in fact it almost seemed as though she wanted the other girl to notice its perfection. Graces moved towards Hermione like a predator slowly stalking it's prey.

"You're right, like all good men Longbottom will do his duty and realize I am not the kind of girl he should be wanting. And he will give his name to some sweet light witch who will bear his children and be kind and generous to all." Hermione backed away from Graces' feral grin, but the blonde continued to advance on her slowly. "But then I bet at night, when he climbs on top of his wife, his mind will wander and he won't be thinking of her as he's moving inside her. He'll be thinking of me and imagining what I would feel like underneath him."

Hermione was now pinned against the wall, Graces was so close to her the peaks of her breasts brushed against her robe. She looked as though she could kiss her; her mouth was hovering right near hers, so their breath was intermingling.

"You're a monster," Hermione whispered, trying to push herself into the stone wall.

"I hate that word," Graces growled. "How is it you have lived among us for almost six years and you still after all that time use that disgusting muggle word." Hermione flinched as Graces slammed her hand against the wall by her ear. "Do you know what that word is in our world?"

"A creature," Hermione said evenly, not allowing Graces' intimidation tactics to get the better of her. "A creature that is evil and frightening."

"A monster is a word used by muggles to describe a creature or being they don't understand. Something that frightens them," Graces said slowly, her whole body shaking out of anger. "Your people use it as an excuse to kill."

"Like how you use mudblood?" Hermione shot, baring her teeth.

"We understand you," Graces said evenly. "We just don't care for you."

Graces moved away from Hermione, allowing her space.

"Muggles are pathetic and weak," Graces informed, walking around the pool idly. "That alone is no sin, many creatures are, but muggles allow that weakness to rule over them making them frightened of anything powerful."

"They just can't handle the truth of a world bigger, better, magical," Graces added, looking over at Hermione. "They need to be kept in the dark. It's not fair. Why should we hide because they can't handle our presence?"

"That's not how it is," Hermione spat. "If that were true how do muggleborn children have parents that know they are magical? How—"

Graces started laughing hysterically at Hermione's question, until she was holding a chair to keep herself from falling over.

"Your parents can't handle you," Graces cackled. "You know that, though. Don't you, Granger? That's why you don't go home often, why you are always going off to the Weasleys. Your parents can't handle you. They're not parents anymore. They haven't been parents to you in a long time."

"I bet it's hard for you being at home, watching them struggle to do the simplest of tasks without magic. It must be hard to see your parents as inferior to you."

"I love my parents," Hermione declared, shaking. "I—"

"I'm sure you do," Graces shrugged. "But that doesn't change the fact that you have surpassed them. That they can't take care of and protect you."

Hermione's throat bobbed as she swallowed some amount of emotion. She opened her mouth to say more, but Graces interjected.

"You don't belong here and you don't belong there," Graces whispered.

"I'm a witch," Hermione rasped. "I have just as much right to be here as you."

"You're no witch," Graces shook. "You're a mudblood. You're like a weed in a garden. You may look like a flower, some may even mistake you as being one when you're surrounded by all the beautiful petals around, but in truth at the end of the day you're just a weed. A weed that pollutes the bed it sets its roots in. And I for one can't wait till we weed you out like the parasites you are," Graces whispered viciously.

"I'm not scared of you," Hermione whispered, her voice unyielding.

"Good," Graces murmured, taking a piece of Hermione's unruly hair and tucking it behind her ear. "It wouldn't be nearly as much fun if you were."

Neville waited until he heard the statue move back in place after Hermione left before bursting of hiding and turning on Graces.

"What is wrong with you?!" he barked, not bothering to wait for an answer as he grabbed his stuff out of the locker. "I can't believe this. I can't believe you coul—"

Neville couldn't even finish his sentence. He had no idea the woman he was in love with could be so cruel and wicked. He was torn between screaming, crying, and cursing. He began violently putting on his clothes, determined to get out of this hell he was currently standing in and away to somewhere he could sit and make sense of it all.

"What's wrong with me? Nothing is wrong with me, I—"

"You can't treat people like that, Graces!" Neville declared, slamming his fist into a locker. "You can't. The things you said, the way you acted, it was—"

"Oh, it's just Granger. Stop being so dramatic."

"Hermione is a person! With feelings and—"

"Why are you defending her?" Graces screeched, throwing her hands up in exasperation. "You two are fighting, she betrayed you, she—"

"She's my friend!"

"She's just a mudblood!"

Neville stared at the blonde in front of him. 'She's just a mudblood,' Graces said it as though she was saying Hermione was just a dog. As though she wasn't even human.

You heard her...She doesn't think she is.

"My gods, Graces." Neville whispered, shock now settling into his system leaving him with this void feeling as he looked at her. "You really believe all that whacked out bullshit. You really think that she's—oh, gods."

"We're not the same," Graces urged, moving to take his hands as though she needed him to understand. "I know you like Granger, but you are just misinformed. She's different than you. She's—"

"You're right," Neville gritted, tearing his hands away. "She's different than me. She's better than me. Hermione Granger is more powerful, more talented, more hard working, and she's smarter than me. So if you believe her to be less of a witch than you then what must you think of me."

"Longbottom," Graces pleaded, moving to take his arm.

Neville moved away though. "You're wrong, Graces. You're so fucking wrong. I need to get out of here. I can't even look at you without feeling sick to my stomach. I need to calm down, before I say something we'll both regret."

"So telling me that the sight of me makes you sick to your stomach isn't something you are going to regret?" Graces called, to his back as he hurried to the exit.

"Do you have any idea how evil you sounded talking to Hermione like that!?" Neville bellowed, gesturing to the pool and moving back into the room. "You're a beauty Graces, but when you opened your mouth there…. I've never seen anyone become so ugly."

"This is ridiculous," Graces hissed. "We shouldn't be fighting like this over a mudblood. I know you're a muggle lover, but—"

"That's right," Neville laughed. "I'm a muggle lover."

Graces backed away as Neville began to cry through the laughing. He was sure he was frightening her, that he must appear to be going mad, but he honestly felt like reality was slipping, like he didn't have a hold on anything anymore.

"I treat people like people and it makes me a muggle lover. I believe that blood status is nothing but a social construction to keep a hierarchy and I'm a blood traitor." Neville nodded at his words and stared off into the room, as he thought of his titles. "I'm glad for those titles," he thought aloud. "To me, it means that I'm a good person, and to you it means I'm a traitor."

Graces stood motionless as Neville moved slowly over to her, his brown eyes holding her silver with a mixture of emotions, anger simmering through them along with something close to pity.

"Don't place yourself under any delusions, Malfoy," Neville said lowly, gently cupping her chin. "You read muggle books, listen to muggle music, and are currently fucking me. You're a traitor too."

Neville could tell he just broke something in Graces. He had just smashed a thin delusion of her identity and made her face it. It was hard seeing the fear that was now in her eyes, but at the same time it wasn't as hard as seeing the hate that had raged in them as she looked at Hermione.

With a long breath he moved his hands away and turned to go. But right as he reached the door one more thing pulled him back in.

"Oh and one more thing," he rasped, looking back over to the woman he still loved. "I would never never use someone like that. If I'm still thinking of you in ten, twenty or a hundred years I wouldn't touch anyone else."

You have a duty to your family," Graces reminded hollowly. "Responsibilities you can't—"

"I have a duty to my heart," Neville said proudly. "To the man I want to be. And the man I want to be wouldn't be the type to marry a woman and ask her to bear my children when I couldn't stop thinking of you. If those were my options I would rather the Longbottom line die out. It's cruel to use someone's love like that. Would you really do that? Marry and bear a man's children wishing you were with another? Because I couldn't. I want you, and until the day comes where I don't I wouldn't even look at another."

"I love my family," Graces proclaimed, raising her chin. "I will do what is expected of me."

"Right," Neville rasped over the lump in his throat. "Goodnight, Graces."

ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

"No tutoring Longbottom tonight?" Draco asked, his arm shaking as he tried to hold up the small book wandlessly.

"Not tonight."

Draco looked over at his sister sitting between him and Thomas and had the oddest feeling something was wrong.

"C-Consent-t-trate," Thomas ordered, his book floating with no obvious trembling, while Draco's began dipping lower to the ground.

"How much longer?" Draco snapped, the pain in his arm now becoming unbearable.

"A-as l-l-long as p-p-p-possible."

"Graces, would you like to join?" Draco offered, thinking of how useful it would be if she began actually caring to learn wandless magic.

"No."

Thomas sent a fleeting look over Graces' head to Draco and raised a curious eyebrow. Draco didn't know what was going on with his sister. She had been so happy lately. He had thought she was finally putting all her fears to rest, she was back to engaging happily with those around her. She was doing her school work practically a month ahead of time. She had been singing under her breath whenever she was walking to class. She was even taking particular care with her appearance, but then this morning she had been once again in a foul mood.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked cautiously, allowing the book he was levitating to fall to the ground so he could give her his full attention.

"I'm going to bed."

"Graces," Draco protested, but his sister just raised a silencing hand and headed to the dorms.

"Excuse me, Thomas." Draco was about to stand and hurry after her. It was rare now that he had time to talk to her, and he wasn't going to let her go to bed so upset, not when he was there and could comfort her, but before he even moved off the couch the Slytherin door opened and a ministry owl flew in carrying a black envelope.

The whole common room went silent at the sight of the envelope. A black envelope from the ministry meant only one thing: a family member has died. It was the notification envelope delivered to the patriarch or matriarch of the family so that they could inform the rest of their loved ones of the news.

Draco, Nott, and a few other older Slytherins all stood up from their seats as the owl flew in. It was as though the whole world had slowed down. Someone was dead, and everyone was saying a silent prayer that it wasn't someone in their own family. Draco looked over to Graces who stood alone to the side, rigidly watching the owl, her face as white as a ghost. Please, don't let it be for me, Draco prayed.

Draco began to feel as though his prayers were falling on deaf ears as the owl continued in it's flight towards him. He heard Graces choke out a sob as the bird passed the last other patriarch and Draco tried to keep himself composed even as he heard her wretched breaths. It would do him no favors to mourn publicly. He took a calming breath and held out his hand for the letter. Ready to read whatever horrors it held.

But the owl did not give Draco the letter. Instead it quietly placed the envelope on Thomas's lap.