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 Aleah for reading it over!

Special thanks to MissLizziebeth, Blue Luver5000, Guest, Taffyrose, Franchesca, mzfeebs, Anonanon, Manoirmalfoys, cocoatd, Bharm, jesssyxo, soannieren and J3VF for your reviews! And also to noone297 for the PMs and suggestions for future writing technique!

Chapter 43

"Neville." Neville looked up from the door of the greenhouse to see Professor Sprout standing beside him. "It appears that you won't be having a partner for this week. I was thinking you could work with Miss Granger and Miss Abbott until Miss Malfoy returns."

"H-Have you spoken to her?" Neville asked hopefully. Not having any idea what was going on with Graces.

"No, I spoke with her head of house," Professor Sprout explained somberly. "It appears her family was very close with the Higgs and she will be helping with the funeral arrangements. She won't be returning until next Monday."

Neville nodded his head and turned towards his desk, no longer bothering to watch the door if Graces was not going to be appearing.

"It's such a tragedy. I can't imagine how Thomas Higgs is taking the news," Professor Spout sniffed, dabbing her eyes with an old handkerchief.

Neville placed a gentle hand on the Hufflepuff's shoulder as she began to cry a bit more freely.

"I always knew Terence would marry Arella," she continued, after blowing her nose loudly. "He was always pestering her in class first and second year. He would hex her hair loose from her braid, push her chair when passing, blow on her neck when she was pruning, all kinds of silly things young boys tend to do when they want attention."

"He just adored her. I was so thankful when he grew out of his childish ways and began behaving properly. I hated giving him so many detentions for being a nuisance. Most of the time I just ignored it, but I can't ignore such behavior all the time. Anyways, he asked her out in my class. It was the most adorable thing. They were especially young, I think just 4th years, and they were standing right over there working on some project when Terence asked."

Professor Sprout began crying harder and Neville moved his hand so that it was wrapped around her rather than just lying against her.

"He was so n-nervous. It was so unlike him. He's such a cocky thing, b-but he was nervous," Professor Sprout blubbered. "I remember it like it was yesterday. I don't even need a pensive to remember it. It took him half the class to tell her he liked her. He would start and stop. Start and stop. The whole time I could tell Miss Graham knew too. She kept trying not to smile. It was amusing to watch. I knew she liked him; it was obvious, but she let him fumble. I think she rather enjoyed how unnerved he became. Anyways, he finally told her he liked her and Miss Graham, the little tease, just smiled and said 'I know.'"

"Well, Terence had no idea how to respond to that, so he said nothing for the rest of class. I was beginning to wonder if he was going to say anything else, and then at the end as she was leaving he called out after her and started sputtering out how he wanted to formally court her." Neville tensed as his Professor turned and began crying into his cloak. "I c-can't b-believe they're both gone."

Neville just continued awkwardly holding his Professor while at the same time trying to figure out if he should say something.

"Professor Sprout."

"Miss Malfoy," Professor Sprout rasped, quickly trying to dry her eyes as she turned towards the clearly worn girl in front of her. "I didn't expect you to be here. Professor Snape said that you wouldn't be back till Monday."

"I just wanted to drop off Thomas' and my work," Graces said quietly, handing over a stack of papers.

"How are you doing?" Professor Sprout asked, placing a kind hand on Graces shoulders. "Have you slept at all? You look—"

"I need to go," Graces cut in, already turning around to leave.

Neville watched as Graces weaved in and out of the entering students and disappeared through the greenhouse door. He hadn't said a word to her. People she loved had died and he hadn't said a thing. He quickly dashed out of the greenhouse after her, not caring what anyone thought.

"Graces! Graces! Wait."

Graces was almost to the castle doors when she heard him and to Neville's great relief the blonde stopped.

"What are you doing?" she asked angrily, looking around to make sure no one had saw. "You can't go running after me. The class was entering; they saw you—"

"Are you okay?" Neville panted, not caring at all what other people were thinking.

"I'm fine."

It was a lie. Neville knew there was no way Graces was fine. No one could be. He himself kept thinking about how the child he had held was killed. He could only imagine what Graces was feeling.

"Graces," Neville whispered, moving to take her hand.

"We're in public, Longbottom," Graces chastised, moving away. "I-I can't do this right now. I have to go."

"Wait, don't go. I—"

"Thomas needs me. He needs me," Graces stressed, wiping her eyes angrily. "He doesn't have an inkling as to what to do. I need to call florists, talk to a solicitor, set up a hearing for custody, pick up a child that I have no idea what to do with and find a squib. I don't have time to stand here with you when he needs me."

"I-I just wanted to say I was sorry," Neville began cautiously. "And that if you need anything—anything at all—or Thomas needs anything for that matter, don't hesitate to owl."

Graces stared at him for a long time, both of them letting the cold November breeze flick their hair this way and that while it chilled their bones.

"Is your grandmother still on the board for child welfare?"

"She is."

"I want her vote," Graces whispered. "I want her to vote to give Thomas custody of Octavian over Octavian's maternal grandparents."

"Thomas is only—"

"I am well aware of his age, but Octavian is his heir. He needs to be raised as a Higgs."

"Thomas is going to be here at school for years more," Neville pointed out, now starting to realize anything at all may be a problem. "Who would raise Octavian?"

"He has a living squib great aunt; she can raise the child while Thomas is away. We're going to find her today and tell her of the news."

"Graces," Neville murmured, "she may not want to leave her life in the muggle world to raise a child."

"She doesn't have an option," Graces said coolly. Neville frowned and opened his mouth to ask what that was supposed to mean. "If you didn't mean anything, then you shouldn't have said anything, Longbottom," Graces snarled, turning in a huff to leave.

"Graces, please, this can't be the best interest of the child," Neville argued, following her into the castle.

"Fuck off, Longbottom."

"Graces, you have to give me more of a solid plan. I can't just agree to affect some child's life without something more solid. Talk to me. Tell me a sure plan and I will."

"I don't have one! I need to get an answer now, Longbottom. Octavian is all Thomas has, doesn't that matter to you?"

"Octavian is a baby; he needs more than a thirteen/fourteen year old boy has to offer. If his great aunt doesn't agree then—"

"If I give you a solid plan, a good plan, you will give us the vote?" Graces asked, turning around and staring up at him. "Do you swear?"

"I'll try to, but it doesn't sound like you have a plan yet."

"If the aunt doesn't agree, I'm dropping out and I'll tend to the child while Thomas is in school."

"Graces, you—"

"That's the plan, Longbottom. I'm of age in the summer and my mother can help me until then, so talk to your gran."

Neville stood there shocked as Graces continued to stomp away from him.

"You can't!" Neville shouted, grabbing the blonde's arm to stop her. "You will never be a healer if you drop out, Graces. You—"

"I am not going to allow Thomas to lose the only family he has left. I can put my life on hold for awhile to—"

"Draco would never allow it," Neville broke in, anger already bubbling from the thought.

"Do not pretend to be familiar with my brother," Graces said, ripping her arm away.

Neville clenched his fists together and bit his tongue to keep himself from screaming. This was insane. Neither of them, Graces nor Thomas, was equipped to have a child. It would be better for the baby to be with its other grandparents who know and love it.

"Get the squib, Graces," Neville demanded. "I'll give you my gran's influence, but you will get the squib. Don't think for one second I will have her approve anything else. It's the squib or another qualified adult. Not you."

"I'm sixteen," Graces argued. "I am perfectly capable of—"

"The fact that we are having this discussion proves you are not. You decided that you could take care of another human life in a matter of seconds, Graces. Seconds! A child is a great responsibility. It's not something you decide to have on a whim. You need an education; you need to grow up."

"I—"

"And you know what else," Neville continued. "Your family is not in a position to be offering anyone protection. You said it yourself. Don't go dragging a baby into that, Graces. I know you love Thomas. I get that. He's a kind boy and his situation is fucked, but I'm not going to just okay whatever you want for him. Get the squib. I can get on board with that plan."

"And if I can't?" Graces asked, over the lump in her throat. "If she refuses?"

"Be thankful Octavian has two loving grandparents that want to raise him," Neville advised sternly.

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"Mr. Longbottom!" McGonagall exclaimed, opening her office door to see Neville Longbottom standing before it. "What are you doing here? You have Herbology."

Neville blushed, but kept his posture before requesting the use of her fire.

"Now? What could possibly be so important that you need to use it now? Why don't you owl your gran during your free time and—"

"It's patriarch business," Neville interrupted importantly. "It can't wait. I need to talk to her now."

The older Gryffindor glared down at her pupil. She was well aware of what being a patriarch to a family meant, but she did not approve of anyone skipping class.

"You can come back later, Mr. Longbottom," she instructed coldly. "Now, if you would—"

"I have to do it now. You can take away points or give me detention, but I need to speak with my gran right now."

McGonagall frowned but stepped aside, moving to sit at her desk as Neville bustled into her office and kneeled at the fire. He hesitated as though he expected her to leave, but she gave the younger boy a look that told him asking would be a grave mistake on his part. She sat quietly as Neville stuck his head in the fire and called out to his gran.

"Neville," Augusta exclaimed. "What are you doing calling like this? Don't you have class? Is that Minerva's office? Why would-"

"Gran, I need to talk to you about something."

McGonagall subtly leaned on her desk so she could hear more clearly and scolded herself for wishing she had kept some of the Weasley twins' experiments such as extendable earlobes.

"I, uh, have you heard about the Higgs clan?"

Minerva frowned at the question and could only imagine that Augusta found it just as strange considering she had yet to answer.

"Yes, Neville, I've heard," Augusta said slowly. "Are you worried? Because I have to say, I expected better from you since the Ministry. You are the head of our house now and you can't go firecalling me when you're frightened and—"

"I'm not calling you because I am frightened," Neville blushed. " I am calling you to ask what stance you will take in the ministry regarding Octavian Higgs' custody."

"That has not even been brought before the board," the older woman said, clearly shocked at her grandson's interest.

"It's going to be," Neville said quietly. "You know it will be."

"We aren't supposed to take an interest in a case before it reaches our level," Augusta reminded. "But should it reach us I planned to vote for the Macmillans to receive custody."

"I thought as much," Neville sighed, clearly disappointed with his grandmother's choice. "Gran, I- I, uh, I want you to give your full support to allowing Thomas Higgs to maintain custody."

"Absolutely not," Augusta snapped, to the professor's great relief. "I have been friends with Audrey and Alvin Macmillan for decades. They are good people and they would do fine job at raising their grandchild. I will not take the last remembrance of their daughter away."

"Heirs should be raised within the family they will be growing to lead. It's important that Octavian stay within the Higgs clan. If he is raised by the Macmillans they will raise him with their customs and beliefs. Something that isn't app—"

"Thomas Higgs is a child. He's younger than you even. He is in school for most of the year as well. This would not be in the best interest of the child, Neville. No."

"He has a great aunt that will raise him while Thomas is in school," Neville countered. "Also, I believe the will specified that the child be left to the Higgs patriarch. This is the parents' wishes."

"Neville, they would have never dreamed that anything like this could have happened."

"They did dream that their child would continue to be raised within the Higgs family with their customs and values. it would be a disgrace to their memory to not allow their last wishes."

"The Macmillans can offer a more stable home."

Minerva could hear the older woman losing her patience and wondered how much longer she would have to wait before she began yelling at Neville. She certainly wasted no time in sending howlers; it wouldn't be surprising for her to put away her restraint now.

"They're old."

"Neville!"

"They are," Nevile cast out. "Children should have someone young. By the time Thomas is finished with Hogwarts the child will be full of life and Thomas Higgs will be young enough to accommodate that. Octavian deserves someone who can run around chasing him, take him to quidditch matches, fly him around on a broom. It will be hard at first, but I see no reason not to allow him custody, especially with an older Aunt who can help."

"You were raised by your grandparents," Augusta pointed out dangerously. "And I feel we did a fine job of raising you."

McGonagall watched as Neville stilled. She wished she could see his face, but she also didn't want to interrupt such a private moment by moving.

"I know I was," Neville murmured quietly. "I-I'm not saying you did a bad job. Or-or that I'm unhappy," Neville began slowly. "I love you. And I love Uncle Algie… and I loved my grandfather, but-but I wished I had someone younger raising me. Someone more… I don't know… Just more... Octavian could have that.. Give your support to Thomas, provided his aunt is willing to help. There isn't a reason not to give him your support if the will specifies the patriarch and there is an adult willing to help. Give Octavian a childhood. Don't dismantle the Higgs family because they're a bit broken."

"You wanted me to take up the position of head of the family because you felt I was able to lead. to make decisions that would affect families in a positive way. Well, I'm telling you the decision I want made. Tomorrow with your decision you will tell me if you really believe I can lead."

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Thomas focused on the clock ticking on the wall. Tick. Tick. Tick. All around him were angry cries of outrage: sometimes from the Macmillans, sometimes from the Malfoys and sometimes from the overpaid barristers. He didn't care, though. He just listened to the clock on the wall and wished he was a seer so he would know when this would all end.

"The will clearly states that the child would be left in the custody of the Higgs patriarch!"

"There was no way that Titus and Clara could have guessed that Terence and everyone else would be murdered, leaving their son with a child!"

"There was no stipulation made in your daughter's or her husband's will. It just says the patriarch."

Tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick. Thomas concentrated on blurring out the sounds of the Macmillans and his barrister. He didn't want to really listen to what either had to say. If he listened to the Macmillans it just sounded like they were crying. If he listened to the barristers it just sounded like they were yelling. He liked the clock, though.

I wonder why everyone says tick tock. The clock doesn't tick tock, it just ticks. No, more like a tst, tst, sound. Maybe other clocks have more of a tock to their sound…

"Thomas?" For the first time in hours Thomas looked away from the middle of the room and back to Graces."This is being moved to family court, now. The judge feels there needs to be an evaluation of the homes, that the Mcmillans are right in feeling that their grandson would be ill-placed with a child regardless of the will."

Thomas nodded his head and continued to look forward at the clock.

"Thomas," Graces continued hesitantly. "I know I told you not to speak during anything, but you need to look interested. If you don't it could be seen as though you don't care."

"D-do I c-care?"

"Yes, you do," Draco said lowly, bending down. "Thomas, I know this is hard, but you need to snap out of it. Mess this up and you won't have Octavian. You can either graduate Hogwarts alone with no one to go home to, or graduate with a son."

"H-he's n-not my son. H-he's T-t-titus' son. H-he's T-t-itus' a-and C-clara's son. Th-they've b-been t-t-t-trying f-for t-t-two y-years to have a b-b-baby. D-did you kn-know th-that? T-t-two y-years. We w-w-were all w-w-worried th-that m-m-maybe… Well, it j-just w-wasn't the r-r-right t-t-time b-b-before. Th-that's wh-what my m-m-mum s-said. It j-j-just w-w-wasn't th-the r-r-right t-t-time Th-the g-g-gods w-w-ould b-bless th-them ev-v-vent-tually and th-they d-did. He's n-not m-my s-son."

"Thomas. Thomas, look at me." Thomas grimaced as Draco forcefully took his chin and made him stare into his quicksilver eyes. "Titus and Clara are dead."

"Draco!"

"Don't you 'Draco' me, Graces. Your way isn't working. He needs to snap out of it and be a man."

"That does not mean you need to—"

"Graces, shut up," Draco snarled, turning back to Thomas. "They're dead. Titus was stabbed and I don't even want to remember what happened to Clara, but the point of the matter is they are dead. You have no one but that infant. I get you are hurting, but damn it Thomas you only get one chance. You need to wake up and start fighting or they are going to take away the last family member you have. Octavian is less than a month old. Less than a month. If you gain custody it will be all he knows. You will be the father. You need to fight here."

"H-how?" Thomas choked. "H-how?"

"We need to find your aunt, Thomas. And we need to find her yesterday."

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"I can pick up dinner tonight. No, really, it's fine. Are you okay with Chinese? Well, I can pick it up from that place across from campus that you like. It's right on my way anyways, John. It's not... hold on. I'm sorry my office hours are over. If you'll come back in the—"

"A-aunt A-l-leth-thea?"

"Oh my god… um, honey? I, uh, I can't pick up dinner after all. I'm so sorry, I-I have to go." Alethea quickly slammed the phone down and stared at the three teenagers in her office. There was no doubt about it. They were magical. Everything about the way they were acting told her so: the way they sneered at her humble office, eyes trailing to devices they were curious about, but would never humble themselves to ask about; the way their hands fell in a way that told her they were ready to reach for their wands. I am 57. I have a masters, two doctorates, endless publications. Being around magical people, especially teenagers, should not make me feel inferior.

"Oh, Christ, let me guess, uh... you're Demetri's children, right? Olivia, Braden, and Oliver?"

All three children before her said nothing, just continued to stare at her as she looked them over. The older woman blushed and nervously began fiddling with a pen on her desk. It wasn't like she lived in that world any longer. She had left decades ago. Sure, she still received the birth announcements and attended certain family engagements here and there, but they couldn't honestly remember her to know every name.

"Olivia, Braden, Oliver, and Demetri are dead," the taller boy murmured.

"What?"

"They were killed a few nights ago along with the rest of your family. The only survivors are you, Thomas—" Aleathea's eyes trailed to the younger boy the blonde was gesturing to. "—and a newborn infant, Octavian."

"Th-that's just not possible. My family is... massive. We span all seven continents. We make up a huge percentage of the wizard population. What you're suggesting is—"

"A massacre," the blonde girl whispered, creating a deafening silence from the word.

"Does this… does this have something to do with the war? With You-Know-Who?" The older boy nodded. Alethea desperately tried to remember what her family was doing. For years she had tried to ignore the wizarding world and lead a comfortable life in the muggle one. She knew about the war, of course, and was always written to by various family members, but she didn't actually know everything that was going on. What she did know was that the family was neutral and staying out of it. "I thought we were staying out of this war," she breathed.

"Neutrality will no longer be tolerated by the Dark Lord," the older boy continued.

Dark Lord… "Who are you?"

The familiar distaste often wielded by high brow pureblood families crept over the older boy's face. It was clear that he expected her to know who he was, as did the blonde girl next to him, but Alethea was never one to keep up on who was whom. There was no point. She didn't live there.

"I'm Draco Malfoy and this is my sister Graces Malfoy."

"Malfoy?" Alethea clenched her pen tighter. Malfoy was definitely not a safe family for her to be around. Nor was it a safe family for anyone in the muggle world to be around.

"We're here to help," Graces sighed. "Don't get all panicky."

"Help how?"

"Shall we go to your home? There is much to discuss and it would be better if—"

"No. No, here is fine."

Alethea looked away as Graces scowled at her.

"Your family has been slaughtered and your nephew here and a baby is left. We need to discuss things. Funeral arrangements and custody arrangements being the top two. Those alone will take hours. We should be somewhere quiet, comfortable, secluded away from muggles."

"Well, you see the problem with that is," Alethea swallowed and tried to look as dignified as possible, "if we were to go to my home we would not be escaping muggles. I live with a muggle."

"You're—" Graces stopped and seemed to visibly be swallowing her disgust "—you're not married to a muggle are you?"

"N-no sh-she's n-not," Thomas proclaimed, horrified. "W-we w-would n-n-never allow th-that."

"Thomas, no one here thinks that your family would have approved such a thing, but we know that sometimes it happens when squibs live in this world. No one thinks less of—"

"I-it d-d-didn't h-happen!" Thomas shouted, becoming visibly upset. "T-Tell th-them," he commanded. "T-tell them y-you're n-n-not m-m-married."

"I'm not married," Alethea said, bitterness bubbling up in her words. "I was forced to make an unbreakable vow to never marry a muggle before I left the wizarding world. Not to mentioned I was cursed to never be able to bear children."

"S-see, w-we're p-pure."

"Pure as snow," Alethea repeated hollowly.

She sat still as the small boy stared at her. This was her new patriarch if they were all dead. He was now the one in charge of the family. It was such a stupid tradition. This boy, this child, was now the one that had all the ability to make decisions.

"Y-you w-w-were g-g-given o-other options."

"Marry a squib or a below average wizard; those really aren't options."

"No one is preventing you from having your muggle," Graces shrugged. "You get to have whatever you want in your bed. Precautions were just taken to ensure you didn't go dragging it into the family. I think that is perfectly understandable."

"You're not the one being told you can't marry the man you love," Alethea spat angrily. For a moment she thought she saw something almost empathetic flash across the girl's face, but it didn't last long and instead the younger girl just went on with the usual pure-blood explanations about honor, tradition and all the rest of that preposterous prejudice she wished to be away from.

"And it's not like your family even cast you out for wanting to live with muggles. Terence's father paid for you to have a muggle education and for your living expenses as you went to school. If you were a part of my family we would have—"

"Killed me," Alethea finished. "Killed me for wanting to live in a world where I wasn't looked down upon: a world where I wasn't handicapped. You would have killed me for wanting a life worth living."

"You should count yourself fortunate that you were born a Higgs," Draco said darkly, his silver eyes pinning her to her chair. "Be grateful you came from a family that doesn't believe in honor killings."

"I'd rather have died than stay in the wizarding world, forced to be on the same level as a house elf."

"I hope that's not true," Graces broke in, walking over to her desk. "Because that is now your option."

"What do you mean?"

"Y-yeah, wh-what d-d-do y-you m-mean?"

"We have a lot to discuss," Draco sighed, moving to sit down on an old worn couch. "Since we won't be going to your home, I suggest everyone try to get comfortable."

Draco tried to think of what he should talk about first. There was an endless list of things to speak of. He knew Graces wanted to wait to discuss the Dark Lord with Thomas, but something told him that waiting was not the thing to do. Blindsiding Thomas with such news could only lead to more issues.

"Neutrality is no longer an option, Thomas," Draco began quietly. "Your family is being made the example it appears. The reason you three were left living was so that the Dark Lord could make the Higgs clan bow before him. It wasn't enough to just kill you; he needs to crush the idea of you. No more toeing the line. Friday after the funerals Professor Snape is going to take you to the Dark Lord." Draco didn't know how to say this next part. It was awful just in his mouth, putting it out though… "Where you will be expected to bow before him, declaring your allegiance as well as your family."

"N-No."

"Thomas," Graces pleaded.

"No!" Thomas shouted, anger bringing him to his feet. "I w-won't. H-he k-k-killed m-my f-f-family. No."

"Thomas," Draco began slowly, "Do you understand what not bowing down means? He will kill you. He will kill you, Octavian and your aunt. You will all be killed."

"I d-d-don't c-care. I c-can't b-bow t-to h-him. T-Terence and m-my f-father d-didn't. Th-they insist-ted w-we t-take a s-stand."

Draco sat silently for a few moments looking over the young boy before him. Thomas was justified in his anger and noble in his thoughts, but dying for a belief with no way to ensure that your death was meaningful was in Draco's opinion a stupid decision.

"I need a moment alone with Thomas," Draco requested, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

To his great relief Graces and the squib didn't argue and just nodded quietly and left.

"Terence was an idiot: an idiot whose mistake cost his wife and children their lives, an idiot that let a miscalculation of an enemy slaughter his family."

"HE W-WAS N-N-NOT AN I-ID—"

Draco felt a surge of anger and before Thomas could finish his childish sentence he slammed the younger boy against the wall, his fist clutching his collar and lifting him up.

"We do not have time for this," Draco growled, shaking Thomas to ensure he was listening. "You have to grow up, Thomas, and you have to do it now. Right now! You do not get to throw childish fits and scream out your hatred. You have to do what is best for the other two lives you are responsible for. You will not let them die. Do you hear me? Octavian doesn't deserve to die because you couldn't put away your damn pride. His life should not be snuffed out before it even begins."

"S-Ss I-I'm j-just s-s-supposed t-to b-bow d-down t-to a m-m-monster th-that k-kills w-w-women and ch-children? S-sell m-my s-soul?"

"You exchange your soul," Draco said lowly. "Your soul for his. That's what being a patriarch is about. You do what is best for the family. What is best for yourself will always be last." Draco ignored the hot tears that were spilling out of Thomas' eyes. It had to be said it had to be done. Thomas needed to understand. "Terence was a good man, but he was a fool to defy such a powerful wizard and now he and his family are gone. Thomas, do not be a fool. Do not indirectly murder the family you have left."

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"You can't honestly think it is in his best interest to join and become a Death Eater, do you?" Alethea asked, waiting outside in the dark hall with Graces.

"He has no choice."

"We always have a choice. Always." Graces' stormy eyes glanced to the side at her for a moment before schooling themselves back onto the door. "If people took a stand and—"

"Like your family? They took a stand and now they're dead. You will be too if Thomas chooses not to join."

"Some things are worth dying for."

"I doubt Clarence felt that way," Graces whispered. Alethea watched as the blonde seemed to be wrestling with some emotion.

"Which one was Clarence?"

"Terence's first son. He was four." Alethea looked away as Graces choked on her own words. She knew she should be feeling something more for her family members, but she couldn't find much in her to feel. She was sad they were gone and sickened by what was done to them, but she didn't know them. "It's already so late," Graces whispered. "We should map out a plan for the funerals while the house elves move you into the mansion. Then tomorrow we can—"

"I'm not moving," Alethea said in surprise.

"You are. Thomas cannot have custody of Octavian without an adult. He will be in school most of the year, not to mention he is too young to care for a newborn alone."

"That does not mean that I should assume that responsibility. I long ago left the notions that my duty in life was to raise pureblood children. I have a life here. I have work, a boyfriend, research—"

What is wrong with you?" Graces asked in disgust. "Thomas is your family. Octavian is your family. You have obligations to your family."

"I don't even know the boy," Alethea murmured, folding her arms. "I-I can't. I—"

"You do not have an option. Thomas is your family's patriarch and—"

"I do have an option," Althea hissed. "I am a grown woman, a professor. And I do not have to live by any of these old Jane Austen era societal rules! If I say no, then that's final. I don't need some child telling me what to do with my life."

"I can't believe this. What is wrong with you? Your family needs you. Thomas needs you. When has any of them ever needed you. This is the first time in your life you have been asked to help them, to sacrifice for them, and you can't even—"

"The first time? Are you serious? I was made barren for them! I had to decline a marriage proposal for them! I've been with John for over thirty years and I have had to lie to him everyday for them: I don't believe in marriage; I have no family; really, I don't want children. Do you have any idea what kind of strain was put on our relationship because of them? Any idea? I have sacrificed well beyond enough for my family. I almost lost the love of my life because I refused to give him children. He said he could live with not being married, but he couldn't live with not being a father." Graces looked away as the older woman wiped away her tears. "I had to lie to him again, pretend to give in and try. We tried for years to have a baby, threw away thousands on tests and other treatments until finally a doctor just told him he didn't understand why we weren't getting pregnant and that it appeared I just was unable to carry a child. Don't you dare talk to me about sacrifice. I sacrificed."

"Your family sacrificed too," Graces reminded tightly. "They never cast you out. They were aware of your personal life and they never disowned you or killed you to protect their honor. They used their numbers to protect their name, so you could have a life you wanted. They were a fort of good marriages, pureblood children, and ancient tradition shielding the world from seeing you. They did all but become blood traitors for you. Not many pureblood families would have done that. Our squibs are quietly married off into other pureblood families. Your family tried to make you happy."

"It wasn't right."

"Not everything is right and wrong," Graces whispered. "Love shouldn't hurt your family. The love you have with that muggle would have destroyed them. They loved you enough to not allow you to make a mistake that they would be forced to kill you for. You have your muggle and they had the respect they needed to thrive in wizarding society. If you had married that muggle they wouldn't have been able to marry into certain families, alliances would have ended and businesses would have went under."

"You don't understand," Alethea said sadly. "You can't. You were raised with one way of thinking, Miss Malfoy, never allowed to even glimpse into another way of thought. It's like there is a wall and you can only look through a small hole. My wall was torn down. I see so much more."

Graces didn't understand what it was that the stern looking woman was trying to say to her. She stood there for a few moments trying to decipher what she was referring to, but before she could think on it further the door to the office opened and Draco had Thomas standing beside him with defeated tears rolling down from his eyes.

"No matter what you have sacrificed," Graces breathed. "It will not ever compare to what he is about to. He needs you. You two are family and he needs you."

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"Did you sleep at all last night?" Graces asked over her cup of morning tea. Alethea ignored the young girl and just continued to push her food around on her plate. "You didn't honestly expect for your muggle to take the news well did you? When have they ever been okay with our kind? You should have just left in the dead of night like we suggested."

"It was the lying that upset him," Alethea murmured. "Not where I came from."

"Keep telling yourself that," Graces scoffed, taking a long sip of her tea.

The older woman did her best not to cry. It did no good to cry anymore or to try to explain to a child the reaction John had had at her revealing. She couldn't believe she was back in this world. She felt as though she were caught in a riptide, there was no way to struggle against this. She just needed to swim parallel until it passed. It was help raise this child or be killed. If Thomas had no heir, no family, they would be useless. It made no statement to have just one singular boy bow before he-who-must-not-be-named. Thomas was nothing without a family, alliances… a future. Octavian was the insurance. In a future without him they were already dead.

She eyed Thomas as he nibbled on some toast and wondered what he was thinking or feeling about all this. She now felt responsible for the small boy. She tried to remember whose son he was and couldn't help but feel slightly ashamed that she couldn't.

"Will Thomas be in my custody as well?" she asked, unsure of how she felt about that thought.

"No, Thomas is now emancipated. Draco filled out all of the paperwork. It's done."

"So, I will have custody only of the child?"

"Limited custody," Draco murmured, lifting up a piece of parchment and squinting his eyes as he read. "Thomas still is the full legal guardian. You are only there to act in his absence. Our solicitor will be working to also get Thomas to have a weekend pass from school to be with the child regularly."

"So I'm just a babysitter?"

Draco looked up from the parchment he was reading for a moment, before dismissing her remark and continuing on with whatever he was reading. Althea huffed out her irritation before standing to dress for the board.

"Graces will be up to glamour you in a few minutes," Draco drawled. "You look awful. I don't want the board seeing you all puffy-eyed and tired. It would not do well for your stability to be questioned."

Twenty minutes later they all were dressed and walking through the ministry. She felt odd walking through the Ministry in full wizarding formalwear, like she was an imposter trying to make herself fit in. She wasn't a witch, therefore why should she wear robes that spoke of magic? If she had just come in her own dress suit she would have felt more at ease.

She looked over to Thomas who was dressed in matching robes: white and red, their family's colors and crests decorated finely into the material. They were kin. They looked like kin, but she didn't feel any kinship towards the boy walking beside her. He hardly spoke at all; Graces and Draco seemed to be in charge of everything. She wondered if she should say something to him. He had, after all, lost his whole family and was now about to receive custody of a child. Surely this was a time that called for some words of comfort, but she couldn't think of what to say. She didn't even know how he was feeling about it all. They were family, but they were also strangers.

"Thomas," she started hesitantly. "Are-are you ready for this? To be in charge of a child? Octavian will be your child and mine in a way as well. Are you ready for this?"

"He doesn't speak in public," Graces whispered, as they entered the elevator. "People don't know about his speech impediment. We've done our best to give him this quiet, forbidding look. Only his current house knows and his family. In court let the barristers speak and only them. It will look out of place if you speak and Thomas does not."

"We're here," Draco announced as the elevator doors opened.

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Meet me in the barn.

G.M

Neville frowned at the tiny letter. He hadn't been expecting Graces to want to meet him and now wondered if his gran had not done as he asked and voted against Thomas obtaining custody, or if Graces wasn't able to get the squib. Quietly he threw on his night robe and snuck out of the Gryffindor tower and to the barn. With each step he seemed to come up with another thing that could have gone wrong at the trial. He had overheard Ernie talking to Hannah at in the halls and it seemed that the young boy was certain his grandparents were going to receive custody. Apparently, they had gone as far as to already have a nursery put in. With heavy anticipation he entered the barn.

Before he even had a moment to look around he had the wind knocked out of him and Graces Malfoy wrapped around his middle embracing him.

"We won," she whispered, her nose still buried into his night robe. "Thomas received custody over Octavian. He's going to be okay. I-I can't begin to thank you. Your gran's opening statement was perfect, brilliant even. Thank you."

"What did she say?" Neville asked hollowly, thinking of his gran's angry face in the hearth.

"She said 'I do not understand why we are all gathered here when the will specified for the child to be given to the Higgs patriarch and there is a living adult willing to take up the burden to help raise the child.' After that statement no one could really argue against them. The Macmillans tried, of course, saying a squib was not suitable, but then your gran cut them off and asked if we should be taking away muggleborn witches and wizards from their home."

Neville closed his eyes and inwardly groaned. His gran had lost some very dear friends today over this, he was sure. He wondered if she had lost them in vain, if it was a mistake.

"How is Thomas handling the verdict?"

"He's handling it. We arranged for him to be able to leave on the weekends to be at home with the child. He-he needs to grow a fondness for the boy, but I'm sure it will come with time. Things will be easier after the funeral friday. Rest for the dead means breath for the living."

Neville nodded sadly and continued to hold Graces as she squeezed his middle.

"Is-is there something you needed?"

"I just needed this," she whispered, letting out a long breath.

"This?"

Graces looked up with her watery eyes and then to his arms that were wrapped around her.

"Oh," Neville breathed surprised.

"Is that okay?" Graces asked nervously, moving to take a step away from him.

"More than okay," Neville promised, kissing her softly. "How are you holding up?"

"They-they're all dead," Graces choked. "All of them and-and…" Graces didn't say anymore she just began crying. Neville picked her up and cradled her against his chest as he took a seat in some hay. There really were no words for this, nothing he could possibly say to take this pain away. So instead he just continued holding her as she cried.

What surprised him was how much this simple act seemed to help her. Graces clinged to his neck and whimpered into his shoulder, but she seemed more at ease with this, like she needed to cry it all out. He thought she would have done this in private or with her brother, but it appeared she wanted to do it here with him. After an hour of her wailing how unfair it was she became quiet. Neville closed his eyes and she twirled his hair around her finger and laid against him. He knew dawn was coming and wished Graces would sleep, but he wasn't about to tell her to do so. She seemed to need this just as much as she needed rest.

"I have to go back to the mansion," she whispered.

"You're staying at home?"

"No, the Higgs mansion. We have a lot to do today. Can I see you Saturday morning?"

"Yes, I'd like to see you earlier, though."

"I can't," Graces hiccuped. "I-I have too much to do. The funeral is Friday. I can see you Saturday."

"Okay," Neville sighed. "If you need me earlier, though…"

"I'll owl," Graces whispered, kissing his cheek. Neville felt the hair on the back of his neck raise as she lingered near him and looked over at her to see a worried look overcoming her features. "Neutrality is no longer tolerated, Longbottom."

"I'm not neutral."

"Longbottom, you—"

"I've made my decision, Graces. I am aware of the consequences that come with it."

"Death comes with it," Graces warned, taking his hands in hers.

"Will you cry at my funeral, Miss Malfoy?" Neville smiled sadly.

"If I said I would would you switch your—"

"Shh," Neville shushed, standing up and taking her in his arms again. "No more of this. I'm going to be fine, Graces. Don't start spilling tears for me. Go be with Thomas. I will see you Saturday and any other Saturday after that. Promise."

Neville gave her another lingering kiss, gently wiping away any stray tears with his thumbs. Whispering a million promises and reassurances he didn't know if he would ever be able to keep. He wanted to though. He wanted to always be here if she needed him. He walked her over to the barn door and couldn't help but smile as she hugged him again before disappearing into the morning fog.