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

Author's notes: As usual a huge thank you to my beta Denarii for editing and my best friend Aleah for reading it over!

Special thanks to superscarface83, noone297, Manoirmalfoys, Blue Luver5000, GTH, Lizzy B, JBadgr and Q!

Btw JBadgr I'm convinced it makes you a super awesome teacher and I decided to brag to my whole office that a whole class of kids got a quiz because of my writing ;)

Chapter 50

Neville never really felt like he belonged in his house, but over the past few years it had in many ways become his home. He didn't feel odd sitting in the common room or asking someone if they would help him with an essay or of they wanted to play a game of Exploding Snap… but now he felt like a stranger among his peers. He felt like a guest sitting in a parlor. He tried to focus on his homework which was slipping awfully because of recent events, but he couldn't manage to read a single sentence of the book in his hands without flipping his book to the pages where he kept Graces' letter from Monday night.

Longbottom,

Would you believe me if I told you I'm fine? I bet you wouldn't, but I am. I'm actually completely healed. Our family healer came and fixed me right up yesterday. I know I was supposed to return tomorrow for school, but my healer feels I need the time to rest, and if I am being completely honest with you, which I want to be, I need to think. Please don't visit me. I'm sorry.

G.M.

She was right. He didn't believe she was fine. He thought of her in that bed, of how distorted her body was, how battered her face was and couldn't will himself to believe that she was fine. And honestly, if he hadn't seen Draco in class today he probably would have gone to the dungeons against her wishes. But the blond was in class and Neville knew Draco would not leave the dungeons if she wasn't well.

"Hey, Nev, want to join us for a game of Exploding Snap?" Dean asked, sitting across from Seamus on the floor by the fire.

"No, I, uh, should finish reading this chapter," Neville murmured, moving his eyes back to the same paragraph he had been staring at. "Thanks though."

"Come on, Nev," Seamus moaned. "We never see ya anymore."

"You see me," Neville shrugged, a tinge of guilt beginning to spread within him.

"No, we really don't," Dean argued. "You're always with Malfoy and even when she's been gone you've been absent. It's like you don't want to be here with us ever. I don't even feel like I know you anymore. You're not even a dorm mate. You're never with us."

Neville didn't know what to say to that. He sat in the chair for a moment stunned at Dean's candor. He was aware that he had been absent, he was just thinking of it, but he didn't expect for his friends to be pointing it out like this.

"Just come sit with us, Neville," Dean ordered. "Or I'm going to start calling you Longbottom."

Neville closed his book and awkwardly shuffled over to the other boys, before taking a seat on the floor.

"That's a good man," Dean grinned, slapping Neville warmly on the back. The sandy haired boy gave a small smile, but found himself still feeling uncomfortable. "So, Neville—our stranger living among us—how have you been?"

"Good," Neville blurted. I'm just going mad because the woman I love was almost beat to death by death eaters. "Good."

"That's it? Just good?" Seamus asked, waiting for more.

"Uh, really good?"

"Come one Neville what have you been up to? What's new in the life of Neville Longbottom?"

"Nothing," Neville lied. Dean sighed and eyed him for a moment before asking how tutoring with Malfoy was. "It's going fine," Neville shrugged, trying to ignore the sick feeling in his gut that came with thinking about Graces."She's… she's great. My grades have improved a lot. Anyways," Neville broke off, "how are you and Ginny?"

"I don't know," Dean shrugged. "We fight a lot."

"Couples fight," Neville offered sympathetically.

"Yeah, well… some days I'm sick of fighting."

"Then," Neville hesitated for a moment "you don't think she's worth fighting for."

"That's a pretty far jump," Seamus frowned.

"Just how I see it," Neville blushed. "I'm not telling you what to do or anything. I'm just saying some people are worth fighting for. You just need to decide if Ginny is."

"It's not that easy," Dean sighed. "You've never been in a relationship. You just don't understand how many other things factor into it."

Neville tightened his jaw at Dean's words and glared at him irritatedly.

"I'm not saying you'll never be in a relationship," Dean added defensively. "I'm just saying you don't know."

"Right," Neville clipped. "Well, then do you love her?" Dean blushed and nodded noncommittally. "It's either a stern yes or no," Neville prodded. "You either love her or you don't."

"It's still too soon to tell, in my opinion."

Neville frowned at Dean's opinion, but let the subject drop. For the rest of the time he played Exploding Snap, chatted about mundane things like Quidditch and just basically tried to be present even though he was a million miles away. Eventually Ron and Harry joined in which he was thankful for because it took some of the attention off him.

He just wasn't there and he was not good at pretending to be. Part of him wished he could just be honest with the boys sitting around him. That he could tell them about what had happened to Graces and that now he was worried out of his mind. Neville just wished he could tell someone, anyone. Graces needed help and he was powerless to help her. He wished he had listened to Harris and got Dumbledore. Even if Graces hated him forever she would have been well. He still would have worried about her, but it wouldn't be like this.

"You really suck at games, Nev," Dean laughed after Neville once again played a bad hand.

"I know… I keep hoping the cards will explode so I'm not forced to lose again and again, but these ones don't seem to explode that often."

"They're really old," Ron sighed. "They were originally Bills and he gave them to me. They just don't have much snap left in them."

"Maybe that's a good thing considering the last time they had snap in them your eyebrows got singed off," Dean grinned causing everyone, Neville included, to laugh.

"You're really one to laugh, Seamus," Ron pointed out, shoving the other boy good naturedly.

And so the night went with friendly banter and meaningless conversation that Neville forced himself to participate in. He knew that this was wrong. He should be enjoying himself like the rest of the group, but he just couldn't. Each conversation felt like nails being dragged along a chalkboard. He didn't enjoy spending time with his friends, he was enduring it. It wasn't their fault and he made sure to hide the feeling, but he was miserable. All he could think about was Graces. He was sure she was well as she said, but he couldn't stop thinking of all these horrible scenarios where she wasn't.

He went to bed that night trying to not think about such disturbing images, but it was no use. When he closed his eyes he was back in her room looking at her broken on the bed, helpless to really help her. Neville rolled over and buried his head into his pillow as though he could hide from the memory. He did want to help her, he just had no idea as to how he could. There was no way he could tell someone about any of this and he wasn't sure what he, at sixteen, could possibly do for her.

Montague seems to be able to do something…

Neville ignored the feelings of resentment that bubbled up inside him at the thought. He had told himself that he was not going to become bitter over Montague, not when he could very well be the man to save her. If anything he should be thankful. Loving Graces shouldn't be about possession. He didn't love her because she was the one in his arms, he loved her because he admired her for who she was; should she die she would no longer be anything. Neville swallowed the lump growing in his throat and reaffirmed to himself that he would be thankful for any choice Graces made that would save her from harm.

If only I could keep her from harm… Or if only she would let me help her. We could go to Dumbledore and he would be able to figure something out. I'm sure of it. Or she could go into hiding.

Graces would never go into hiding.

Maybe she would if Draco came.

Draco, Thomas, Octavian, her mother and her father… Good luck getting all of them to agree. Her father is stuck in Azkaban, as long as he is there she is not going to run away. She wants it all. Mum, Dad, brother, Thomas and baby. There is no compromise with her.

Yes, but—

A gentle tap on the window disrupted the Gryffindor's thoughts. Neville sat up in bed and listened into the silence for another tap. Once a second set of more aggressive taps started he opened the curtains of his bed and almost leaped out onto the floor at seeing Loki outside the window.

"Neville, what the bloody hell are you doing?" Seamus groaned, burying his head further in his pillow.

Neville muttered an apology and stood frozen on the floor waiting to hear the soft snores of his friend before continuing to the window.

"Ouch! Merlin's beard," Neville hissed, sucking the cut from his hand "I can't just come and open the window right away there are other people here."

Loki bristled his feathers and hooted indignantly at Neville's sour words, but to Neville's relief he didn't bite him a second time. Quietly, Neville made his way over to his bed and closed the curtains allowing Loki to sit perched on his head board while he read Graces' letter.

Meet me in the barn.

G.M.

Detailed as always, Neville thought, hurriedly moving about the bed to put on his shoes and find his heavy coat. It was on his second check under the bed that he decided to forgo the comfort of warmth and just wear his night robe, he clearly had once again misplaced the damn thing and wasn't going to waste any more time trying vainly to find it. It was a decision he regretted once he was out of the castle and the cold, damp November air cut through to his chest.

Neville became more and more nervous the nearer he came to the barn. It didn't look like there was any light within and all around the area was dark. Neville hesitated at opening the door. He remembered the last time he had been in there waiting for Graces, pacing the ground and looking out the door every few minutes. He had known something was wrong then, that her not showing up meant something awful and he had been right. While he waited she had been beaten, tortured and died. He stared at the solid wood between him and the inside and wondered what he was going to see.

It wasn't like Graces had had minor injuries. They were all severe and he didn't know enough about medical magic to know if it was all repairable. He hoped it all was. He prayed that this wasn't going to impact her for the rest of her life. Hesitantly he began opening the door, his heart skipping a beat as the soft glow from candles met him and he saw Graces standing awkwardly in the middle of the barn clutching his coat to her.

There was this stillness that settled upon them at the sight of one another. Neville just stood there staring at Graces, unable to believe what he was seeing. She was there whole, healed and as beautiful as ever. She looked completely untouched, like no evil had ever been done to her. It all felt like a dream. He slowly drifted over to her, afraid to even blink should it not be true.

"You're okay," he breathed, reaching out and tenderly touching her face. "I can't believe it. You really are okay."

Graces looked away and nodded her head awkwardly.

"I-I have your coat," Graces murmured, pushing the coat into Neville's hands clearly not wanting to discuss her health."You forgot it again after the whole Granger incident. I have your money too…"

Neville held the coat for a few moments before dropping it unceremoniously to the floor and pulling the petite blonde into his arms and holding her tight. Nothing else in the world mattered to him more than the fact that Graces was in his arms and well. It was an act that Neville had wondered if he would ever experience with her again. Despite how well she had been doing even he could tell her injuries were beyond severe.

Neville quickly got a hold of himself and released Graces who seemed to be tensing more and more the longer he held her. Neville frowned at this and looked down at her. Really looked at her, beyond just searching for any hints of injury. It was clear that the healer was not wrong in saying she needed to rest.

"What are you doing out here? It's freezing and you should be in bed. You need rest."

"I couldn't sleep," Graces admitted quietly, staring down at the hay-covered floor. "I-I needed to talk to you. I have to ask you something."

Neville frowned at Graces confession and waited on baited breath for her to continue. Graces stood there a few moments vibrating all over, before reaching a shaking hand into her coat and taking out a book. Neville stared at the cover a few moments before realizing that she was holding the book he had given to Dr. Harris.

"I read it," Graces whispered. "I read it and-and my father is in it." Neville slowly reached out and took the book from Graces' hands.

"I'm sorry," Neville breathed. "I never meant for you to end up having it. I —"

"Is my father an evil man?" Graces interrupted, stopping Neville from making anymore apologies.

"What?"

"My father," Graces choked. "Is he an evil man?"

Neville stared at the watery quicksilver eyes begging him for answers and felt a greater chill come into him.

"No. He's not."

"Don't lie to me," Graces groaned, backing away from him. "Please, don't lie to—"

"I'm not lying to you. I—"

"YOU'RE LYING TO ME!" Graces accused, her back arching as she cried to the heavens. "You're trying to spare me from knowing that I am the daughter of an evil, heartless man. You're lying to me."

"Graces, I am not lying to you," Neville insisted, grabbing her by her shoulders and trying to get her to hear him. "Listen, I think you are overly tired. You've been through a lot in the past week and you're not thinking clearly. I think if you had some rest and slept through the night you would feel better."

"I can't," Graces laughed bitterly. "I can't sleep. Cause when I close my eyes and drift off I dream that I am back in front of the Dark Lord and my father comes out and beats me."

Neville stood dumbfounded at Graces words.

"Graces," he began "your father would not harm one hair on your head. It's just a dream."

"Is it?" Graces choked. "My father is the same as the men that did this to me. He—"

"Graces, no. He's not."

"Oh yeah?" Graces challenged. "Tell me, Longbottom, did my father enjoy torturing you in the Ministry?" Neville tightened his jaw at the question. "Did he? Because the men that hurt me enjoyed it. They taunted me the whole time I was in agony. They made me fear for what was next and I have a feeling my father is cut from the same cloth. Did he do all that to you? Did he—"

"I'm not discussing this with you," Neville stated firmly, turning away so that she couldn't read his face.

"My aunt told me a lot of it, but you've never said a word." Neville moved away again as Graces tried to maneuver into his view. "At least tell me this," Graces begged. "Just one thing."

"Graces, I don't want to—"

"Did my father haunt your dreams after?" Graces asked desperately, grabbing him by the arm and turning him to her. "Did you wake up in cold sweat thinking about what it was like being under his wand? What he—"

"Graces, you need to stop," Neville stressed, holding her shoulders forward.

"Oh, Gods, he did, didn't he? You had the same terrors I am having now." Neville averted his face away, wishing he could have hid that answer from her. "M-my f-father h-hurts people," Graces sobbed, her knees buckling so that she was on the floor crying into her palms. "He h-hurts people."

"Graces," Neville began, joining her on the ground. "It's-it's not because he's an evil man. It's just he's-he's misguided." Neville cringed as his words created more tears. "No, it's like when you see little kids hurt insects. Like when they smash the shell of a snail, or catch ants on fire, it's not that they are doing it as an evil deed, it's just that, well, they don't see them as having the same emotions and humanity as themselves. Your father doesn't see muggles as human and because of that he doesn't grant them any humanity."

"You're a pureblood," Graces sobbed. "A pureblood. He sees you the same as me."

"I'm a blood traitor. You're father sees people like me as ones that are putting your status in this world in danger. He—"

"You were fifteen," Graces broke in, turning her teary eyes up at him. "Fifteen. Not even the head of your family and he was going to kill you. He tortured you and then was going to kill you. My father murders children. If that's not evil I don't know what is." Neville didn't have an answer to that. He sat there searching his mind for anything he could say that would bring Graces comfort. "How can you be defending him? How can you not call him evil after all that?"

"Because I'm looking at his humanity."

Graces stared up silently at Neville's words. It all hurt, more than she could bare, but in that moment the pain lessened.

"How could I think your father is evil?" Neville asked gently, tucking a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. "When he made you?"

"Don't tell me that odd sappy nonsense," Graces scoffed angrily. "My God is evil, Longbottom. What does that make me?"

"Your father is human," Neville corrected, scooching closer to her on the ground. "Human. He is flawed like the rest of us. He is not absolute. That means he is not always right. He can be misled, and he is not totally anything… evil included."

"And it's not sappy, it's just the truth. Graces, you are a beautiful, smart, kind, funny girl and condemning your father as evil means that he had nothing good to give to this world. And he clearly has. He raised you. He raised you and I refuse to believe an evil man could raise a child like you."

"He kills children," Graces held onto. "That's not just being misled. You're naive if you don't fine him an evil man. He was going to kill you. He—"

"Would you have been sad if he succeeded in killing me?" Neville cut in.

"I think it has already been established I don't want you dead," Graces sniffed.

"No, not now. Then. Would you have been sad if I was killed?" Graces frowned and looked down ashamed. She would not have been. "It's okay. I knew you wouldn't have been."

"I didn't know you then," Graces hiccuped. "I just saw you as—"

"What about Hermione?" Neville countered, still holding her kindly. "You said just a few weeks ago you couldn't wait to weed her out."

"I did," Graces nodded, holding her breath to keep her own composure for this line of questioning.

"Do you still feel that way?"

Graces frowned at the question. Did she believe that Hermione's life was as valuable as Neville's? As her own? As Dr. Harris'... She didn't know anymore. She was at a loss to what she believed. Her whole life she had listened to her father's opinions and ideals and look where that had brought them. Her father had said no muggles could so easily accept them, that only when they were forced to by blood bondage were they able to deal with the realities of their world, but Dr. Harris had no bondage to her. He wanted to help because he saw hurting children as wrong. An ideal that her father had pretended to have. If her father was wrong about muggles did that include Hermione?

"I don't know how I feel," Graces whispered.

"And that's okay," Neville promised, kissing the top of her head. "You don't have to know right this second what you believe. In fact I would worry if you could so easily change your belief system. But my point is if your father had succeeded back then you would not have been upset. You may have even been happy that we were all dead. It doesn't make you evil, Graces. Just like it doesn't make your father evil."

"Your father and you were raised with a set of beliefs," Neville continued. "A set of beliefs that told you that people like Dr. Harris and Hermione were not worth living. A belief structure that made people like me an enemy, a threat. You and your father were both raised with no other belief structure. It isn't surprising that you have such little respect for the lives of others. You both are just...misled. And because of this your father has done terrible things, but he did them all thinking it was right. Thinking he was making a better future for you. Even you thought that."

"I wish I could go back to before," Graces sobbed, placing her head in her knees. "I want to go back to before."

"No you don't," Neville sighed. "Now you know more. Your vision has expanded. Graces, this is a good thing. It's like your whole life you've only been seeing things with one eye and now you have two."

Graces snorted and before she could stop herself began cackling hysterically and crying all at once. Now you have two. She knew Neville didn't know and that she must appear incredibly insane at the moment, but it was all just too poetic.

"Now I have two," she repeated disdainfully. "Now I can see. Right…"

"Graces?"

"You know, if the Gods aren't dead they are sadistic," Graces bemoaned, turning to Neville and burying her face in his shirt to cry.

"Graces? Graces?"

Graces ignored Neville's pleas for her to look up at him. Instead she clung tighter to him, her fingers clutching his shift so tight that if he tried to push her away it would tear it to shreds. She was breaking and she knew it. She was a frozen lake that was bearing too much weight and she was cracking. She wondered if she had always been this weak, if she just never knew it because she had up until recently led a pampered life where she didn't need to worry about a thing.

She missed that life. That life where her father was right, they were elite and the only thing she had to worry about was school and Quidditch practice. Now her best years were behind her. She was sixteen and her good years were gone. She didn't even have the youthful body of her age. Everything about her life right now was hell. Everything. Except the fact that Neville was holding her.

Graces closed her eyes tighter at the thought and began practically hyperventilating as Neville scooped her up on his lap and began rocking her like she was a child and whispering nonsensical words of comfort. He felt so good. So right. Neville was the only person outside of family that was able to give her comfort. He was also the only person that she felt like she could talk to these days.

"Take a breath, Graces," Neville whispered, his thumb rubbing small circles on the back of her neck. "Nothing is happening. Everything is fine. I have you. Just calm down." Graces slowly took some deep, shaking breaths and tried to choke down her sobs. "The gods are sadistic, huh?" Neville murmured, nuzzling her hair with his nose. "I believe you would have hexed me for such a comment in October."

"I was naïve in October," Graces hiccuped.

Neville hummed a reply, but didn't dig further. A calmness began to settle within her, not calm in that she felt clarity, just calm in that she didn't feel like she was being bent so much she would snap.

Maybe this isn't calm. Maybe it's exhaustion.

"I think you need to sleep," Neville declared as though he were reading her thoughts. "You're exhausted, I can tell. You just need a good night's rest, Graces. You shouldn't be thinking about anything like this until you are better."

"I can't sleep," Graces murmured hollowly.

"What if you slept with Draco tonight?" Neville suggested. "You sleep better with him don't you?"

"He's not in his room," Graces choked, her voice beginning to crack again. "He's busy, busy trying to save the damned."

"Shhh," Neville hushed, "No more of that, you're going to get yourself all worked up again. How about we get you some dreamless sleep?"

"I don't want it," Graces refused. "I don't want anymore damn potions."

"Graces, you're not leaving me with many options here to help you."

"I don't want help."

In the back of her mind the blonde knew she was being difficult. She was just holding onto the bad and pouting over the unfairness of it all, but she wasn't ready to put this all to rest. She wasn't ready to rest herself. She just wanted everything solved in one night. She knew she was demanding the impossible, but her heart ached for it.

"Do you want to come sleep with me tonight?" Neville offered kindly. Graces scowled at the suggestion and looked up at Neville, who didn't appear to find anything odd or wrong with his suggestion. "You can sleep with me in my bed. We can do a Disillusionment charm like we did for me when I went to the festival and we'll just lock my curtains."

"Are you mad?" Graces hissed. "Can you imagine what would happen if we were caught, if someone tried to wake you up for breakfast or—"

"No one is going to try to wake me up with my curtains closed," Neville chuckled. "It's common code in a boys dorm that if the curtains are closed, do not disturb."

Graces wrinkled her nose at the Neville's last statement, but actually gave the idea some consideration.

"Come on," Neville coaxed, moving his arms and bear-hugging her middle. "It will be nice. The tower is much warmer than the dungeons, more homey too." Graces closed her eyes as Neville kissed the back of her neck sweetly. "You need to sleep, Graces."

"I can't sleep with you, though," Graces breathed. "I can't… I still need some space and—"

"We're not going to sleep with one another," Neville promised. "Just sleep together."

"I would rather the first over the last," Graces muttered under her breath.

"Yeah, well, I don't think either of us are in the mood for that," Neville deadpanned. Graces almost made a comment about how teenage boys were always in the mood, but stopped herself. It didn't seem like it would be funny right then. If anything it made it all that much sadder. "Just come to the tower with me. Let me take care of you," Neville whispered quietly.

"I can't," Graces insisted, knowing that she was leaning towards a life with Graham, but not ready to tell Neville. "I'm so sorry. I-I just can't."

Graces knew that she would have to tell Neville eventually, but she just couldn't bring herself to do it. Especially now when he was holding her in his arms. She just wanted to hold on too. Graham was the smart decision, the safe decision. She was ensuring her own safety and taking a heavy burden off her brother's shoulders. She may not love Graham now, but with time she was sure it would come. And she had convinced herself that with the time away from Neville her feelings would lessen. Graham had mentioned her not returning for 7th year and now she felt that would be best. The temptation would be out of sight and with time out of mind.

"Oh, Graces, don't cry," Neville begged. "It's fine. I'll figure something else out. Please, stop crying."

"I want to. I really want to," Graces sputtered, "But I just can't, it wouldn't be right."

"Because of Montague?" Graces twisted her face in despair, but eventually nodded. "Have you… have you made a decision about that?"

Graces raised her chin to nod, but stopped and, in a cowardly move, just shrugged and said she was still thinking.

"Okay," Neville contended.

"I-I'm sorry, I—"

"Nothing to be sorry about," Neville promised, offering her a small smile that made her feel even worse. "How about you sleep here? We can make a makeshift bed for you and another for me."

Graces worried her lip at Neville's suggestion. She wanted to stay with him. She wanted to stay with him more than anything else in the world.

"No, I should go to my room," Graces declared, nodding affirmatively to herself, trying vainly to make herself believe she was doing what needed to be done. She moved to get up, but Neville held her tighter.

"Please stay with me." Graces held her breath at Neville's words. He sounded so comfortless. It wasn't a request for her benefit and she knew it. He was asking her to stay for him. She looked back at him wistfully watching her and in that moment she couldn't say no. She nodded her head and without thought placed her own hand on his cheek and kissed him softly.

In the corners of her mind she knew this was the very reason why she needed space from Neville. One kiss always morphed into another and soon she was once again wondering if she was making the right choice, because the right choice at the moment felt like Neville.

"Well, I think on that note I should put you to bed," Neville grinned, standing up and keeping her still cradled in his arms.

"You don't need to carry me," Graces scoffed, a content smile playing on her lips as Neville went over to a stall full of hay.

"Need and want are two very different things." Graces smiled at Neville's light heartedness and leaned her head on his shoulder as she felt them shifting to their own little world. "Remember this stall?" Neville asked, turning and pushing the door open with his back.

"Yes," Graces blushed, hiding closer in the crook of Neville's neck.

"I quite enjoyed that night. You wooed me with your talk of tics and inflamed lungs."

"It really is something to worry about!" Graces laughed. "It's the bacterial fermentation, it—"

"Oh, Graces, I must warn you if you insist on talking dirty to me I will be forced to throw you down on this hay—bacterial fermentation and all—and make love to you."

"You're awful," Graces cried, giving Neville a playful smack in the chest as he put her down so he could set up the beds. Neville just grinned and threw a blanket over the hay.

"I'm going to get my coat, it's really warm, you can use it as a blanket."

"What will you use?" Graces frowned.

"I have my night robe on," Neville shrugged. "I told you my gran is the master of warming charms."

"I have my coat with me though," Graces pointed out.

"I doubt you've ever slept without a pillow your whole life," Neville chuckled. "There's your pillow."

Graces smiled quietly to herself as Neville went to retrieve his coat from the middle of the barn. Nothing was better, but she felt better. She sat on the blanket draped over the hay and wondered if she could give all this up. Her and Neville's little world.

"I leave for a few seconds and I come back to more tears?" Neville asked, putting the coat over her and leaning next to her as she laid down. "You must have really missed me."

"I did," Graces laughed wiping away her tears.

"You're such a sap." Neville winked, adjusting his coat over her so she was fully covered.

"Where are you sleeping?" Graces asked, trying to distract herself.

"I will be sleeping on that side," Neville nodded. "Gives us a good bit of distance and it's a separate pile of hay."

Graces nodded and worried her lip to keep herself from telling Neville to forget it and just sleep with her.

"Is Montague nice?"

"What?" Graces asked, knowing what Neville asked and yet not fully able to comprehend.

"Is-is he a nice bloke?" Neville repeated, staring down at her imploringly.

"Yes." Graces couldn't remove her eyes from Neville's despite how desperately she wanted to look away from him. He didn't seem sad or bitter, just… concerned. There was no hidden agenda in his question, nothing aimed at manipulating her into favoring a choice that would allow her to be with him. He sincerely wanted to know and she could see that. "He's a bit stoic and at times he's unapproachable, but if you know him he's nice."

"Do you know him well?"

Graces hesitated in answering before shrugging non-committally.

"Graham is a very private person… and so am I… It makes getting to know one another a bit difficult. But he's nice, I know that he doesn't look it, but he is…"

"Good," Neville smiled "You deserve nice."

Graces opened her mouth to say something, anything. Tell Neville how sorry she was, that if she could she would choose him, that he was nicer, something, but before any traitorous word could leave her Neville leaned in and pressed his warm lips to hers.

"The last time we were here you said 'take me in the now, feel me in the present and only miss me in the end'. I know the end may be right around the corner, but it's not now," Neville said gently. "Get some sleep."

"Wait," Graces called, as Neville moved to leave her side. "I… will you lay down with me for a while?" she asked hesitantly.

Her request clearly took Neville by surprise, but after a second he smiled and moved to lay down beside her. No words were spoken by either of them there. Neville held Graces close and she closed her eyes and breathed him in as she her heart continued to flutter in her chest. Part of her prayed that Neville would fall asleep as well and another part of her prayed he wouldn't and she would wake up and he would be on the other side. But she refused to remind him, determined to allow fate to decide. And with that decision and Neville's arms around her she fell into dreamless sleep.

Don't forget to follow/review!