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: Huge thank you to my beta Denarii for editing Also, thank you to my best friend Aleah for reading over this chapter.

Special thanks to GTH, bridget237, bageltiger, Blue Luver5000, bekkivobekki, SuperCuteTomomi, Manoirmalfoys, q, Guest, pokegirl1005, and Furious Koala for the reviews! I must say some of them were major ego boosts ;) Furious Koala I'm glad it's all so convincing to you and that you are enjoying my story so much. Also thank you to noone297 for the PMs :) Always a pleasure noone.

Chapter 53

Potions class had always been a sort of meditation for Graces. She enjoyed the odd smells that poured into her nose reminding her that she was privileged enough to be magical. She liked watching something transform in front of her eyes from a pile of meaningless ingredients to something life-saving. She felt a great sense of relief knowing that there was a specific set of instructions telling her what to do and that, so long as she followed said instructions, she could expect success. And up until recently she enjoyed that her head of house was in charge of the class and thus she had entertainment of watching the Gryffindors lose points and be degraded. Well, that was less exciting these days when it was Neville at the brunt of Snape's tongue, but still she enjoyed potions… until today.

"I died," Graces hissed, looking back at Harry and his potion, trying to keep from screaming as Professor Slughorn continued to fawn all over him. "I died and I went to hell. I didn't survive. I bloody died and am doomed to live in this alternative universe where Potter is the master of potions."

"We don't believe in hell," Draco pointed out, rolling his eyes.

"Well, that was before I was sent to it. It's kind of hard to not believe in something when you're there."

"You know, I don't really care for your humor these days," Draco muttered, angrily trying to cut the sopophorous bean and growling angrily as it kept slipping away from his knife.

"See," Graces whispered. "Hell."

"The instructions say to cut! But it bloody won't cut!" Draco grunted, flinging his knife on the table.

"Hell," Graces sang, offering her brother a teasing smile.

Draco pursed his lips but after a small nudge on Graces' part he gave in and smiled a bit about it all.

"You're still not funny," he scoffed, trying to cut the bean again. Graces grinned at his denial and did her best to work on her own potion.

"Good thing this is just a competition," she sighed when she couldn't seem to cut the bean either.

"He's trying to see who he would want to be in his little club," Draco whispered, looking over his shoulder to ensure no one could hear. "You know, as annoying as Slughorn is, every person he collects as his favorite student goes on to do great things… in part because he has all the connections to help them achieve great things," Draco added bitterly.

"You didn't seriously want him to pay us mind, did you?" Graces deadpanned, giving her brother an exasperated look.

Draco didn't answer, instead he took the end of his pestle and pounded the bean angrily, crushing it.

"Feel better?" Graces asked, picking up the crushed bean with her thumb and index finger.

"A bit."

"Mr. Longbottom," Professor Slughorn called cheerfully, moving over to where Neville was working. "Can you explain what you just did?"

"I, uh, I—"

Graces looked over to see Neville going red from the attention of the class and his eyes kept shifting to the book as though to make sure he didn't do anything incorrect.

"You're not doing anything wrong, my boy," Slughorn chuckled. "I was just hoping you could explain to the class what you're doing."

"The, uh, potion calls for the cauldron to be tipped at a certain angle," Neville explained hesitantly. "So I put a charm on the cauldron that would tip it to the angle specified."

"Can you explain to the class why this is such an important step?"

"Because, umm, the wormwood is an oil in this potion and-and we want to ensure that when it is poured it isn't mixing incorrectly, the best way to ensure the oil is not mixed directly at the cauldron's hot spot is to pour it in at certain angles depending on how you want it mixed," Neville quoted, his eyes moving towards Graces every once in a while as he spoke. Graces bit the inside of her cheek and looked down at the ground, trying to hide her prideful smirk, but she was pretty sure Neville saw and she prayed Draco didn't notice her blush.

"Excellent!" Professor Slughorn proclaimed. "Ten points to Gryffindor, Mr. Longbottom. You know, your father was excellent with potions as well."

"Oh," Neville blushed. "Well, I'm not very good at potions," he admitted. "I just… Malfoy tutors me."

"Does he now?" Professor Slughorn asked, looking over to Draco.

"No, uh, the other one," Neville corrected. "Graces Malfoy."

Graces raised a suspicious eyebrow at Neville placing Professor Slughorn's attention on her, but quickly schooled her features to quiet boredom. Slughorn looked over at the blonde for a moment and Graces, not wanting the attention of him or the class, turned back to her own potion, plopping the crushed bean in her cauldron to appear as she was doing something and stared wide-eyed as the color of her Draught of Living Death improved.

"I was really awful before she started helping me," Neville continued. "I believe you saw just last week how incompetent I can be when it comes to potions. You know, blowing up cauldrons and all," Neville murmured under his breathe embarrassedly. "But she really is a good tutor. She tutors all of the younger years in her house too."

"Does she now?" Slughorn asked. Graces could practically hear the wheels in his head turning about her and bristled slightly as the older man went over to her cauldron.

"Yes, she does."

"You're putting me on a pedestal, Longbottom," Graces said, checking the temperature of her cauldron before looking up at the professor pointedly. "Somewhere I don't belong. I have no interest in being someone's glorified trinket. You did the work and now you have the benefits."

Slughorn's demeanor changed quickly at Graces words and the pudgy man stared down his nose at her imperfect potion before walking away.

"You kill me," Draco groaned. "You seriously just kill me."

"I don't want to be apart of the Slug Club," Graces shrugged. "Not that he would even consider me. He doesn't like the whole Death Eater thing, remember?"

"If you played your cards right an exception could have been made for you," Draco muttered irritatedly. "You're talented. Talented enough where he may be willing to ignore who your father is."

"Draco," Graces said patiently. "Have you looked at me lately? I don't think it's possible to ignore who my father is."

"I just don't think it's wise for you to close doors of opportunity."

"I am disgustingly rich," Graces scoffed. "What most people hope to achieve I already have. Don't worry about my opportunities."

"I know you've lost opportunities since father's incarceration," Draco said lowly after a moment of silence. "You don't have to pretend with me. I know that—"

"Draco," Graces interrupted not wanting to go down this road in memory lane. "Can we not?"

Draco opened his mouth to say more, but seem to decide against it.

"Longbottom sure is quick to sing your praises," he commented after a while.

"You know he fancies me," Graces pointed out casually, praying her brother didn't think too much on it.

"I think it would be best for you to distance yourself from him."

"Why?" Graces frowned, pretending to be more curious than upset.

"People are talking."

"About me and Longbottom?" Graces laughed. "You're kidding. Gods be mad, they're not serious are they? Longbottom and me."

"Not quite that," Draco smirked. "That's a bit far-fetched. They just think you allow too much. I believe the phrase starved for attention was used."

"Well, who doesn't like attention," Graces grinned.

"Other boys would be glad to give you their attention."

"Yes, but I like having it free from obligation. If any of the boys in our house gave me attention I would be expected to date them or something. Plus, I like having the affections from one of Potter's little friends," Graces winked. "It really rubs Granger the wrong way."

"I don't even think Potty and the Weasel know he likes you." Graces shrugged and continued to scowl at her potion, muttering to herself about how it didn't make sense for it to be so wrong. "Longbottom is crossing lines," Draco continued sternly. "He came to our common room. He—"

"He helped me," Graces defended.

"He should never have—"

"If he hadn't I would have been in more pain," Graces persisted. "We talked about this."

"Yeah, well others are talking about it too," Draco grumbled. "And a lot of them don't like how much he knows."

Graces stilled for a moment.

"He can't say a word," she whispered, closing her eyes as her stomach dropped. "He's not even a threat."

"Threat or not, he knows and people don't like him knowing."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Graces asked her voice bordering on shrill.

"It means people don't like it," Draco frowned, now staring at his sister.

Graces nodded her head slowly and looked back down in her cauldron. She wondered if Neville was in danger if he now had a price on his head. She wondered if she should ask…

"Is he going to be killed?" Graces whispered, doing her best to not let her brother see how upset she was becoming.

"Eventually, but probably not over this," Draco shrugged off handedly. "By the time we are out of school I doubt anyone will be worrying about it. The task should be done, all should be out in the open kind of thing. I'm just saying people don't like him being so close to our matters. I want you to spend less time with him."

Graces having a sense that arguing would be placing too much attention on the situation agreed and spent the rest of the class trying to decipher how the hell Harry Potter had become so great at potions. He was the only one in the class able to make the Draught of Living Death perfectly, thus earning him the prized Felix Felicis.

"It just doesn't make sense," Draco growled walking towards the door with her, glaring angrily over at Harry.

"I know, maybe it was just luck," Graces suggested.

"Yeah… luck…" Draco pouted, clearly not happy with the answer. "I better get to class. Don't wait up for me at dinner. I have things to do."

Graces nodded and tried to ignore the bad feeling settling in her stomach as her brother nodded a goodbye and left down the opposite hall. She slunk over to join Pansy and Millicent as they walked to class, but every few moments looked back towards where Draco disappeared. She really did want to help him. She knew he wanted her to have no part of his task, but still she wanted to help. He and I would both be less miserable if we were together, she thought sadly before putting on a brave face and talking to Pansy about Octavian staying with them during the weekend.

ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

Neville watched Graces pop yet another chocolate in her mouth at dinner and knew it meant one thing… trouble.

Big trouble, judging by the pile of wrappers brimming out of her bag and the untouched shepherd's pie sitting on her plate. He really had no clue when this came up. She certainly wasn't stuffing her face with chocolate that morning, or during potions. He had first noticed the chocolate after potions class when she was walking with Pansy, but it hadn't been odd. She often snuck a chocolate after class, especially double potions, but now he had seen her eating bars of Honey Dukes, mounds of chocolate frogs and he was sure he even saw sugar quills during study hall.

Neville inwardly groaned and pushed his own dinner away, his stomach filling with dread as he anticipated the evening of Malfoy insanity he was about to have. Quietly he went through his interactions with her throughout the day. Nothing really stood out, except him trying to get Slughorn to notice her in potions, but he didn't see how that would get her angry or upset to the point where she was now gorging on chocolate.

When Graces got up from the table to leave he didn't follow soon after. Instead he continued to run through every scenario he could think of. Sadly, there were a million reasons her mood could be bad. Eyeing his watch, he decided he should be going before he was late. Another reason to make Graces upset just wouldn't do.

He took his time winding through the halls full of students all making their way to their evening plans. A surge of envy coursed through him briefly at seeing Dean and Ginny walking hand in hand. Some days he longed to have a relationship with Graces that could be that simple. Not wanting to dwell on such feelings, he hurried past.

He loved Graces. And while he longed to be able to be open with her about his feelings, that was the last thing he needed to focus on. She had other things going on in her life, more dangerous things. What he should be focusing on was helping her get through those obstacles and finding ways to make her safer than she was now. And maybe teaching her better ways to manage stress, he thought, opening the door to the classroom and watching Graces unwrap another sweet as she faced the front of the room.

"Hey," he greeted, moving her hair away and kissing the back of her neck softly.

Graces covered her mouth shyly before muttering a hello. Neville couldn't help but smile fondly as the blonde hurried to swallow. He started gently rubbing her shoulders while he waited. She was tense, more tense than anyone needed to be. He wanted so much to take care of her, to be that person that could make all the bad go away.

"So," he began slowly, still keeping the rhythmic massage going. "What's wrong?"

"What do you mean?"

Neville glanced at the chocolate wrappers to the side. "You just seem… tense," he mentioned, deciding that calling Graces out on her sugar habit may not be the best way to start things

"I have a lot to be tense about," Graces reminded, a curt edge to her words.

"Yeah, right," Neville blushed, feeling foolish. He kissed her cheek sadly and took the seat next to her absently playing with one of the purple wrappers from a long line of sweets. He didn't know what to say or how to say it, so he sat in silence hoping he would not make things worse.

"When did Potter become so good at potions?" Graces asked accusingly as she stared at the potion instructions from earlier that day.

"Not sure," Neville shrugged. "He studies more now. He's always reading that potions book. Maybe he just wants to be better for Slughorn," he murmured absently, remembering how he had wanted to do better for who he thought was Moody. "Slughorn seems nice. Harry responds well to good teachers."

"Please, he's only nice because he thinks of students as trophies," Graces scoffed.

Neville shrugged noncommittally.

"Maybe," he allowed, now grabbing another wrapper to fiddle with. "I think he's nice though. I blew up a cauldron the other week... " Neville peeked out at Graces and saw she didn't seem to like that statement. "I was worried about you and all," he added sheepishly. "Anyways, I blew it up and also ruined Harry's potions book. Professor Slughorn didn't get mad, though. He gave Harry an old copy that was lying in a cupboard and he told me that accidents were a part of brewing."

"Accidents are a part of brewing," Graces agreed, a softness coming to her voice as she stared at him. "But I still wouldn't put merit in what Slughorn thinks," she stressed. "I don't want you to care too much of his opinion. If it's good that's grand, but don't put much thought into him. Slughorn only appreciates people that benefit him. Remember that."

Neville frowned at Graces' warning, but the blonde turned away, apparently done with discussing Slughorn. Neville watched her closely as she continued to read through her notes on the potion. Every few moments she would nervously glance over at him, but despite Neville's efforts to seem open and comforting the blonde continued to regard him with anxiety.

"Graces," Neville began gently, discarding the wrappers and taking her hand away from the book and into his. "What's wrong?"

Graces tried to deny that nothing was wrong, but as usual Neville was able to read her. She wished she could avoid his intense gaze and just continue to lie, but she couldn't seem to find the strength.

"I think we should only see each other at night," she murmured looking down at the castle floor. "When everyone is asleep. I don't think it should appear that we spend any time together."

Graces peeked up through her lashes to see that a small frown had formed on Neville's face. She without realizing it gripped his hand tighter and gritted her jaw in an effort to not do something completely and utterly stupid like cry. Neville seemed to realize though and lifted her chin up as he leaned in close.

"Why?" he asked patiently.

"Same reason as always," Graces whispered tightly. "I don't want people to catch on."

"Are people catching on?" Neville asked, searching her eyes, despite Graces efforts to look away.

"No."

"Then I don't—"

"Draco asked me not to see you as much," Graces interrupted, hoping that answer would satisfy him, but Neville seemed not to believe that was the end of it. She could tell he was seeing through her. It sent shivers down her back and made her hair stand on end. She remembered him asking her once why she didn't want to be seen, why she wore one face when God had given her another. It made her breath catch and her palms sweat. Did he now know her so much that she couldn't hide?

She looked up at Neville's brown eyes and realized he did. She couldn't lie to him, he knew there was more. Part of her knew that he should know anyways, and another part of her wished she could keep him in the dark, preserve him as he was now. She could see that what had happened the past few weeks had affected him. He had aged. Not as much as Draco and her, but she could see it around his eyes. It had been there before her. She had seen the lack of childish innocence before, but now it was so much more pronounced. Battling at the Ministry and being cruciated by her father had not torn such a big piece out of him as seeing her on that bed.

"The wrong people are noticing you," Graces admitted quietly. "A lot of people are unhappy you came and saw me after… well, you know. They don't like you knowing so much. What was a funny crush has now become serious in their eyes. Right now you're just being noticed, but I'm scared if we continue they will see you as a threat. And no unbreakable vow will save you then."

"If they don't see us around one another anymore, if I don't tutor you anymore then you will be out of sight, out of mind. They will not completely forget, but it won't be heavy on their mind. Every time I meet you, it's like I'm reminding them of what you know."

Neville sat back in his chair and stared intently at her. She held her breath from the sting that came when his hand slipped out of hers, but she didn't say a word. She had said all that needed to be said, now she just needed Neville to agree.

"You don't need to worry about me," Neville said after a while.

"That is something a very foolish person would say," Graces responded tightly over the lump growing in her throat. "Don't be a Gryffindor, Longbottom. Heroes die."

"I'm not being a hero," Neville said. "I just am not worried."

"That's good for you," Graces choked out. "But I am. I'm worried for you."

It had taken a lot to admit, but she let the words hang in the air. Neville tried to wipe the small tears away from her face, but she turned away disconcerted and said nothing, a silent resistance to Neville trying to dissuade her fears.

"Graces," Neville whispered. "If anything happens you know that it was all by my choices, right? You are not the one responsible for anything that happens to me."

"It has nothing to do if whether or not I'm responsible," Graces snapped angrily, standing up from the chair and facing the wall. "It won't matter."

"This is nothing," Neville pleaded. "So what if a few students here don't like me knowing something. They can't really do much about it, can they? I can't do anything with my knowledge. We're all at a standstill. It would be pretty stupid for someone to go after me and risk being caught when I couldn't do anything anyways. I would understand if you wanted to do this because people were suspicious, but this isn't a reason for—"

"Longbottom, will you stop being such a Gryffindor and listen to me!" Graces exclaimed, kicking a stool angrily across the room and turning around. "There is no need to take such a ridiculous risk! This is why so many of you valiant Gryffindors die before you reach thirty! You have this belief that you're untouchable! Well, guess what, you are, and if you don't listen to me you might as well start digging your damn grave!"

Graces turned away again as Neville stood up from the chair. She was so sick and tired of crying. She felt like all she did now was cry. She was turning into Moaning Myrtle she cried so much. She felt Neville wrap his arms around her, trying to give her comfort and she cried even more from the gentle touch.

"Night time it is then," Neville murmured, kissing her temple gently. Graces stifled a sob, before turning around and holding onto him as well. It felt good to cry in Neville's arms. Crying was awful, but being held and hushed by someone so caring and gentle made her tears more bearable. She had what she wanted, Neville was doing what she asked and yet her stomach still turned.

"Do you think it will raise suspicion for us to just stop our tutor sessions?" she asked, looking up. "They all know you're mad for me. They might find it odd that you just stopped vying for my attention and—"

"I'll take care of it," Neville sighed. "Just be in a very Malfoy mood tomorrow."

Graces scowled and was about to ask what exactly that was supposed to mean, but when she saw Neville's face she decided to keep her mouth shut. Whatever his plan was he didn't seem exactly thrilled to do it. She wondered idly what it was he was planning, but she understood that he didn't, for whatever reason, want her to ask.

"Are you making some great sacrifice on my behalf?" she asked quietly, nuzzling her nose in his neck.

"There is no sacrifice too great for you, Graces," Neville smiled, tilting her chin up and kissing her soundly.

"You and your pretty words," Graces murmured between soft butterfly kisses.

Neville chuckled and kissed her again moving his hand into her long hair as he pressed her against the castle wall. A familiar feeling began welling up in her as Neville's warm lips glided upon her skin and before she knew it her head was cloudy and her breathe harsh.

"I missed you," Neville whispered against her collar between butterfly kisses. "I missed you so much, Graces."

"I missed you too," the blonde breathed, closing her eyes and arching more into him. Words seemed to dwindle away, just as the world around them with each caress. Graces wondered if Neville knew how much she hurt. How deeply she ached. His mouth continued to take her in hungrily, desperately and she met him much the same. Needing him in ways she was sure he would never know.

Neville hurriedly discarded his shirt, throwing it behind him as he once again swept Graces in his arms. Graces reveled in the feel of his warm skin beneath her hands. She was so transfixed in sensation that she didn't realize Neville had begun to undo her blouse. It was the feel of his warm hand snaking in through the cloth that brought her back.

Before Neville could go any farther she turned away, quickly closing her blouse before Neville could see.

"I need to go," she whispered, her skin flushing with embarrassment. "I'm sorry, I—"

"Graces?"

Graces closed her eyes at the uncertainty in Neville's voice.

"I'm not completely healed," she admitted, not wanting Neville to think it was him. "There-there is scarring."

She felt Neville's hands move to her shoulders, before slowly wrapping around her from behind.

"You don't need to be self-conscious with me," Neville whispered, kissing the curve of her neck down.

"It's bad," Graces argued. "It looks awful. It's going to take a few treatments with this special salve before the skin is back to normal and-and I don't want you to see."

Graces shrugged Neville off her and moved behind one of the desks so it could act as a barrier. The Gryffindor sighed, but made no move to come after her.

"I thought you trusted me."

"I do," Graces nodded. "I trust you, but that doesn't mean I want you to see. Trust me, you don't want to see. It's awful. My whole abdomen is mutilated."

"Mutilated is a very strong word," Neville said worried her lip and tried not to start crying all over again. "You really believe you're mutilated, huh?" Neville asked sadly.

"I do."

"I bet I won't."

"You're too kind to say if you did," Graces rasped.

"You could look in my head and see if I was lying."

"Is it that important?" Graces asked, meeting his eyes. "Is you and I... being that way together that important?"

Neville straightened his stance and Graces could tell he didn't like the question that in a way he was offended she asked.

"Of course it's not," Neville proclaimed. "But you shouldn't feel that—"

"I don't want to," Graces interrupted. "I can't. Haven't I lost enough of my dignity? Don't make me suffer through more." Neville tried to tell her that no matter what her stomach looked like he would still be attracted to her. He wasn't going to be in any way put off by it, but Graces continued to shake her head. "I like the way you look at me," she rasped. "I like being thought beautiful."

"I will always think you are beautiful," Neville stressed evenly. "There is a lot more to you that makes you beautiful and I'm not talking about externally."

"Well, I prefer for you to see me only beautiful externally too," Graces maintained, folding her arms across her chest.

Neville bowed his head into his hands before letting out a slow breath and agreeing not to see.

"I don't like that you feel that way about yourself," Neville murmured after a while. "You shouldn't feel ashamed of this."

"I'm not ashamed. I just don't like how it looks."

Neville didn't seem to agree, but he didn't press the matter anymore. Instead he opened his arms up and waved Graces to sit on his lap. Graces eyed him for a moment, before deciding that this wasn't some plot to try and change her mind. She gingerly sat down and Neville enfolded her once again against his chest.

She laid there for a long time with her head against his chest, just enjoying the feel of him around her.

"You never told me what happened with Graham," Neville pointed out quietly.

"He took the deal."

"That was it?"

"That was it," Graces yawned, burying her nose more into his neck. "He doesn't have feelings for me. It's not like he was going to beg me to marry him when he got what he wanted anyways."

"He just wanted the money?"

"He wanted to protect me, I suppose," Graces shrugged. "But the marriage was one of convenience, not of passion or anything like that. Graham, I believe, does like someone, but it's not me." Graces could tell Neville was frowning, she knew him well enough to know he would find all of what she said odd. "Not everyone marries for love. Most marry for the benefit of their family."

"My family doesn't," Neville pointed out. Graces just shrugged and curled up more in Neville's lap.

"How's your brother doing?"

Graces frowned at the question before answering he was fine.

"And Thomas?"

"He's adjusting."

"He's important to you, isn't he?"

"He is," Graces sighed. "You know he named me Octavian's godmother. They're both very important to me."

Neville was silent for a few minutes, one of his fingers playing with a strand of her hair as he held her.

"I need to go," Neville stated gently moving Graces off him. Graces frowned at Neville's abruptness, but stood up with him. "I'm sorry," he continued, kissing her cheek. "I need to see about something and I want to see about it right away."

"What do you need to see about?" Graces asked confused.

"I don't want to say just yet. I'll see you tomorrow, maybe we can meet late at night?"

Graces nodded and received one final kiss before Neville finished buttoning up his shirt and was out the door. She walked out of the room on auto-pilot. This was the last time she would see Neville during normal hours. They could no longer meet one another after dinner or during the afternoon on the weekends, now they were fated only for the night. The night when they were both tired and worn from a day with classes. She wished he hadn't left. She was sure whatever it was was important, but still she wished he had stayed.

"G-graces?" Graces turned over to one of the antique desks in the corner of the common room and saw Thomas sitting among piles of papers and books. "I c-could use some h-help."

"Of course, darling," Graces smiled, moving over to the chair next to him. She spent the rest of the night helping Thomas catch up, the younger boy kept reminding her almost every hour on the hour that he was technically excused from the work, but she insisted it was for the best. She still thought of Neville the whole time and when she went to sleep that night her mind was still with him.

Please don't forget to follow/review! Also, if you visit Jbadgr's tumblr be sure to review her illustrations for this fic! She put a lot of time in them I'm sure so make sure she gets her kudos ;) Also, she's doing illustrations for just Harry Potter in general right now too, not just this fic, and they are really amazing, so check them out.