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 and my best friend Aleah for reading it over.

Special thanks to Blue Luver5000, omgitsfranklin, AnnyJackson19, snowflake2410, bridget237, Buckdoe, char170217, and infinateconstellations for the reviews!

Chapter 65

Neville closed his eyes and blew out some of his nerves before reading the letter Graces had sent him again. The nice thing about this letter was that Graces felt she could go to him at once with her fears. The awful thing about the letter was he was miles away from her when she was this upset. He re-read the lines explaining what Graham had said to her and was torn between hating the boy and greatly appreciating him.

It was nice to know that Montague was genuinely a good bloke. He wanted to help both the twins and didn't mind putting his own neck out for them, but at the same time he didn't appreciate him putting Graces into a panic. There were other reasons Neville disliked Graham, but he knew those reasons weren't worth exploring. They were founded on jealousy and not what was best for Graces.

Neville fingered the letter he had originally meant to send the blonde, the letter that was full of words telling her how happy he was and how much he missed her already. It seemed so stupid now. He doubted she would welcome such cheer when she seemed to be so miserable. With a heavy heart he placed the envelope in his desk drawer and began writing another letter to the blonde. He was almost finished with his response to Graces' letter when a sharp knock disturbed him.

"Come in," he called off hand, folding the letter and stuffing it into an envelope as his grandmother entered the study. Neville stilled as she surveyed the room. Despite her telling him to use the room he still felt as though he were invading when he sat behind his grandfather's old desk. He wished his gran didn't insist he use the study. He had a perfectly fine desk in his bedroom, but she seemed to feel that sitting in a room with posters of Quidditch teams and clothes scattered everywhere was not a fitting place for a patriarch to conduct family business.

"Did you look over the forms that I told you about yesterday?"

"Um, no," Neville admitted slowly as he hid the old letter he had wrote to Graces in his pocket. "Sorry, I will look at them in a moment."

Augusta didn't say a word, but Neville still heard her disapproval. He sat awaiting her to say more, but the older woman just nodded and left him. Neville's uneasiness heightened at his grandmother's cold demeanor. It had been this way since he had stepped off the train. He racked his brain for what reason his grandmother would have for being upset with him and couldn't seem to think of anything. Was she still upset about him pushing her decision for the Higgs? He wasn't sure. He really hadn't been paying much attention to his gran in the past few months. He was only now realizing that she barely responded to his weekly letters.

Not wanting to upset her more in other matters he quickly sent his letter to Graces and moved on to the papers she wanted him to have a look at. It was really nothing of great urgency. She wanted him to sign a complaint to the hospital about moving his parents from their ward and refusing to discuss what renovations would cause such an awful uproar. Neville threw the complaint in a trash bin, knowing that once his gran saw the renovations come Christmas day this would not be a problem and the next set of papers all had to do with various estates.

Three cups of tea and two hours later all the papers were in order. Neville stood up from the desk and stretched his back. He had been exceptionally productive this morning. He had woken very early, unable to sleep because of Graces' letter, done some gardening to think and afterwards had stayed in the study. Now that he had finished responding to Graces and all of his patriarchal duties he had a completely open morning.

Neville decided that he should try to talk with his gran about whatever it was that was upsetting her and began to make his way over to the kitchen where he could hear her bustling around.

"Augusta, I think you're over reacting."

Neville paused as he heard his Uncle Algie. He wasn't aware his great uncle had arrived. He was surprised that the older man hadn't barged through the study and bear hugged him until his gran started shrieking at him 'leave the boy alone'.

"I am not overreacting, Algie," Gran snapped, banging down what sounded like a pot. "I never had these kinds of problems with Frank. Frank was always—"

"Neville is not Frank," Algie broke in warily.

"No, he most certainly is not, because Frank would nev—"

"I don't think you can finish that statement," Neville's uncle broke in angrily. "I highly doubt that Frank told you much about this portion of his life growing up! Frank very well could have harbored feelings for—"

"No! My son would never have been interested in women of such low calibre!" Augusta roared. "He loved Alice. He didn't even care that she was plain that he could have—"

"Alice was not plain," Algie growled.

"Well, no one would proclaim her gorgeous, that's for sure."

"Frank did. Frank thought she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. He was absolutely smitten."

"Because he was in love with her heart," Augusta choked. "That's my point. He cared about the person and not the body."

"I'm sure he cared about the body," Algie sighed, clearly tiring over the argument. "Neville is a good lad. A good lad that's starting to… well, starting to become a man and it's normal and natural for him to have interests in girls. I don't think that this is something we—"

"I am well aware it is natural for him to have interest in girls! I did raise a son. What I disapprove of his which girls he is interested in. First there was that odd Ravenclaw girl that visited this summer. She was babbling constantly about wutsputs and other insane oddities, not to mention she had no sense of etiquette or personal space, and now I have to hear my grandson is interested in Graces Malfoy!" Neville cursed at his Gran's declarations. This was much worse than he thought. "Do you have any idea how humiliated I was to hear that my grandson asked out Graces Bellatrix Malfoy?"

"I'm sure not nearly as humiliated as your grandson who was turned down so callously in front of all his peers," the older man answered angrily.

"Serves him right! If he had been looking at something more than looks then he wouldn't have asked out such a cruel girl and he would have been spared the humiliation."

There was a noise that sounded as though someone kicked a chair over and judging by the heavy breathing Neville assumed it was his uncle that was beginning to lose his temper.

"Why can't you just leave the boy alone?" the older man demanded, another kick to the chair sounding in the kitchen.

"Oh, that's your solution? Leave him alone. Leave him alone so he can destroy this family? In case you haven't noticed, dear brother, Neville is going to be the last surviving member of the Longbottoms. Neither you nor I will live forever, and he needs to have an heir. And I for one do not want an heir born from Graces Malfoy!"

"Augusta, I'm warning you to leave that boy alone. He is far too young to be considering such things. I don't want Neville even thinking of siring a child until he has completed his apprenticeship. Even then I would feel more comfortable if he waited."

"I can't believe you," the older woman bit out. "How can you say that? We have no heir for this family. There is no future for us at present. None. If something were to happen to Neville—"

"I think that we can both agree that should something happen to Neville neither of us would care any longer what happened to this family," Algie murmured hollowly. There was a pregnant silence that filled the whole house at his uncle's words and Neville crossed his arms around himself firmly and leaned against the hall wall as he waited for them to continue. "I don't know about you, but if anything happens to Neville I could care less if the whole world burned down to the ground."

Neville moved forward from the wall a bit to peek at his gran's reaction to his uncle's view and he saw her face for only a moment before realizing she felt the same. He stood staring at his shoes for a long time after that. He knew his gran loved him and he knew his uncle loved him, but he didn't like thinking of how they would feel if he died and seeing their face at the thought of his death was even more heartbreaking.

Despite his determination to forget the things Lucius Malfoy had said to him at the Ministry he found himself hearing the older Malfoy's words playing again and again in his head. "Well, your grandmother is used to losing family members to our cause... Your death will not come as a great shock..."

"It's going to be okay, Augusta," Uncle Algie whispered gently. "Neville's going to be fine. He—"

"Just sit down and drink your tea," the older woman ordered, her voice much tighter than Neville was used to. "I don't need to be coddled; I'm just tired."

Neville heard the sounds of his grandmother cooking and knew from experience she was trying to distract herself from becoming upset. He bit the inside of his cheek and wondered if he should wait longer before entering the kitchen, his gran didn't allow anyone to see her upset and he felt badly that even now she wasn't allowed a moment of privacy because his uncle was there.

"I'll have a talk with the boy," Algie promised. "We'll have a good chat now if you like."

"No. Leave him be," Augusta ordered.

"You sure?" Algie asked unsurely. "I don't think it would hurt to have a man to man about well, women and things of that nature. I was never disagreeing with you about talking to him about that."

"Just never mind it," the older woman snapped. "I want this to be a nice holiday. I don't want anyone upset."

"We'll have a little talk," Algie chuckled. "Nothing that will get him upset. May make him red around the ears, but…" the older man let the sentence trail off and Neville felt a little better to hear both his gran and him share a small laugh, even if it was at his expense. Neville waited until plenty of time had passed since their discussions on him before he entered the kitchen.

"Well, if it isn't my favorite nephew!" the older man proclaimed standing up from his chair and greeting the sandy haired boy warmly. Neville grinned as his uncle poked his stomach and pinched his cheeks as he good naturedly jested about his loss of baby fat. "Always knew you would lose it," he laughed. "Didn't I always say he would be a dashing boy once he grew into his looks, Augusta?"

Augusta Longbottom rolled her eyes and herded his uncle back to his seat so they could eat. Neville cautiously took his chair, unsure if his gran was still upset with him. Neville thanked her when she put his plate in front of him and stilled as she ran her hand down the back of his head to the base of his neck, before she took her own seat. It was one of the very few signs of affection his gran gave and he couldn't help but smile softly at the warmth the touch gave to him even now.

"Do you have any plans for today?" his gran asked, putting an extra helping of bacon on his plate.

"No, not really," Neville smiled, glad to see she was no longer upset with him. "I was going to check on a few estates, see if maybe I could grow some plants there instead of taking up more of your garden while I was there, but that's about it."

"Why are you checking on our estates?" Uncle Algie asked, frowning curiously. "Everything should be well managed."

"I just want to make sure things are going well," Neville shrugged. "Some of the homes have older house elves and they aren't able to work the way they used to. I may switch younger ones to bigger homes and have the older ones go to cottages or places that we really don't mind becoming too dusty."

"Just be sure you don't upset them," his gran reminded. "I don't want them all upset thinking we're unhappy with the work they've done. I really can't deal with crying house elves for the next week. Even if the place looks awful pretend they're doing a fine job."

"I will," Neville promised, taking a bite of some eggs and wondering what Hermione would say if she knew how many house elves his family had. She probably would insist I set them free, Neville thought looking over at Mable sitting on the kitchen counter removing string from the snow peas and humming some made up song.

"Does master Neville wish Mable to get him some more juice?" the house elf squeaked noticing his eyes on her.

"No, no, Mable," Neville blushed looking down at his plate. "I'm fine thanks."

"Some water?"

"No, I have some."

"More tea?"

Neville lifted his cup to show he had some tea and was fine.

"Does master Neville want to play outside with Mable after breakfast? Is that why he is looking at Mable?" the elf asked hopefully, making Neville turn even more red. He hadn't played outside with the house elf since before he went to Hogwarts.

"I'm sure Neville would just love that," Uncle Algie snickered, clearly finding this whole mess humourous. Neville glared at his uncle and was resigning himself to a half hour of play time with the elf, when thankfully his gran saved him from the task.

"I think Neville is a bit too big to be playing outside like a child, Mable," she said gently. "Perhaps you could help him with some gardening later though, I know you both enjoy that."

"Not as much as playing," Mable grumbled, going back to the snap peas. "Mistress is right. Master Neville needs to make the children. Then Mable would have someone to play with."

Neville looked over at his gran and uncle at Mable's statement and both older Longbottoms were glaring at the house elf, who shrugged her shoulders and continued on with her task, not seeming to care that her outburst had put the whole table into awkward silence.

Neville decided to ignore the comment and go back to what he was originally thinking as he looked at the small elf.

"Mable," Neville began slowly, trying to decide the best way to ask his question without upsetting the house elf. "I know there aren't children here for you to play with currently, but are you happy?"

"Neville, what kind of quest—"

Neville raised his hand to quiet his gran and kept his eyes on Mable who had paused in her work and seemed to be thinking.

"Is master Neville happy?"

"That doesn't matter," Neville continued shaking his head. "I want to know if you are happy."

"I'm happy if Master Neville is happy."

"No. No, Mable, I—"

"No you're not happy?" Mable asked, now looking distressed. "Why? What has Mable done?"

"Mable," Neville broke in, trying hard to grasp at some patience. "I'm fine. Look I'm happy. See." Neville smiled very big and put on a good show trying to display his own happiness. "Very happy, Mable. I just want to know if you feel happy."

"Neville, you're upsetting her," Gran scolded, standing up to go over to the elf. "Mable, it's okay. Neville is being odd, don't cry. He's very happy."

Neville made some sound of frustration that he instantly regretted seeing as how it put Mable in another fit of tears. His gran pursed her lips and shot him a dirty glare before holding her hand out to the elf and asking her to help her polish some silver.

"B-b-but Mistress doesn't like Mable p-polishing the s-silver," Mable stammered, taking the woman's hand and following her out into the hall anyways. "Sh-she s-says sh-she's p-perf-fectly c-capable."

"I know, but you do such a fine job and I am very tired today," Augusta explained, leading the elf to the dining room so that Neville and his Uncle were the only ones in the kitchen.

"What the bloody hell was all that about, Neville?" Uncle Algie demanded. "Now you've gone and got her all upset. Mable's sensitive, you know that. The whole lot of them are. She was so happy to have you home, why would you go making her upset like that?"

"I just wanted to know if she's happy," Neville defended, putting his hands up in surrender.

"Of course she's happy!" Uncle Algie exclaimed. "You're home. She had a ton to do this week getting things ready for you. I'm here for the holiday as well, so she gets to help make big meals and your gran is getting older so that's even more for her to do. She's happy as a clam!"

"Yeah, but what if that stuff doesn't make her happy?" Neville continued. "I mean. She's like our slave and—"

"Slave?" the older man repeated. "Mable isn't a slave. She's a house elf. She likes doing all this."

"What if she only likes it because she's brainwashed into liking it. My friend told me about this syndrome that makes you love your captors. It's called Stockholm Syndrome. Maybe if Mable was set free—"

Before Neville could say more his uncle was dragging him outside by the arm with his hand firmly over his mouth. Neville was a little shocked by the older man's force. His uncle had never even really scolded him, but right now he looked as though he were ready to bend him over his knee. Neville suddenly felt like he was two years old again.

"What's the matter with you!" Uncle Algie asked, his eyes wide with astoundment. "What if Mable heard you say that? She would have died from a broken heart if she heard you wanted to set her free. Damn it, Neville, she changed your nappies. You can't go disrespecting her like that."

Neville blushed and tried to burry his guilt. "I just—"

"No, you listen to me, Neville Longbottom. You may be the patriarch of this family, but that doesn't mean you can go treating Mable and any of the other house elves like that. We raised you better than that. We respect the beings living in this home. We never put any kind of Stockholm spell on Mable or any of the other elves. For you to even suggest that we did is disgraceful."

"I didn't mean anything like that," Neville begged, now really regretting his curiosity. "I just have this friend and she's really adamant that house elves are mistreated." Neville continued on about what Hermione believed. He told his Uncle about S.P.E.W, about how Hermione was hiding clothes in the dorms and then he even told him what he knew about Dobby. His uncle listened intently, frowning here and there, but his anger over the situation had clearly diminished. "So, I don't know, I thought maybe she was right. I mean I never asked Mable if she was happy."

Uncle Algie scratched his chin as he contemplated what to say next. He eyed Neville a few times as he went through all that he told him before telling him to take a seat on one of the garden benches. Neville sat and his uncle let out a long breath as he looked him over one last time before beginning.

"I'm very happy that you listen to the opinions of others," his uncle started out. "And I'm even more happy to hear that you consider the opinions of a muggleborn worth examining. A lot of other purebloods would have dismissed what this girl said without a thought. I mean, it would be easy to just tell her she doesn't understand because she hasn't lived in this world. So I'm very proud you are not like the majority of witches and wizards." Neville nodded, but had a feeling his uncle still wasn't too happy. "But it's important that you factor in your own experiences with this world, Neville. This Hermione girl, you say she's the smartest witch at Hogwarts, but she has not lived in this world. She may very well be smarter than Albus Dumbledore, but she's still a muggleborn. She doesn't understand this world the way you do. When it comes to living here with magical creatures, you know more."

"But-but Dobby is happy to be free," Neville pointed out. "What if—"

"Dobby was a house elf for the Malfoys. His situation is very different from Mable's. We've never let any harm come to Mable and we never will. Of course Dobby was happy to be free. Mable would certainly not be."

"You don't find it odd that her whole purpose is to serve us?"

"I think she likes to feel like she is needed. You've heard her, she thinks we can't survive without her taking care of us. She feels important and it makes her happy. Every year when you get back from Hogwarts she says that you got skinnier. She swears up and down that the house elves there don't take care of you. They don't hide his peas in his mashed potatoes, they don't use the right tea leaves for his morning tea, she goes on and on. Now, aside from this year you've looked the exact same, but your gran and I know she says it cause she likes to believe she's the only one that knows how to take care of you. She likes feeling needed. It makes her happy."

"I just wanted to make sure," Neville whispered, feeling smaller than he ever had before. His uncle never had gotten upset at him, all the older man did was joke around, so hearing him this upset by something he said was disheartening. Neville chewed the inside of his lip as his uncle sighed and sat down next to him.

"You're a sweet boy, Neville," his uncle comforted, putting an arm around him. "You were always good natured, not like other boys that like to upset little creatures. You've always been kind. I know now your heart's in the right place, but I really think it's best you not talk to Mable about this. If you want to do something nice for her get her a kitten. Lord knows she wants something to play with. She's the youngest of the house elves and the older ones don't want to do such things anymore. They prefer the quiet."

Neville nodded, but still didn't feel all that great about what had occurred at breakfast. He knew he was going to have to apologize to his gran and possibly to Mable, if she would let him and he found himself just feeling awful about it all.

"So… a muggleborn, huh?"

Neville frowned and looked up at his uncle who was staring off at the garden nodding his head and looking extremely uncomfortable.

"So, this Granger girl, you, uh, you fancy her?"

"Hermione?" Neville squeaked. "No. No. I don't. Well, I did back a few years ago, but not anymore. She's great, but she's yeah, just a friend."

"I see," Uncle Algie breathed, still deep in thought. "You know we never really have talked man to man about girls and things of that nature."

Neville did his best to not look as uncomfortable as he felt, but he still found himself fidgeting with his wand as his uncle cleared his throat to talk.

"I know we come from a long line of witches and wizards, I mean no one has ever married anyone that wasn't pureblood, but I don't want you to think that your gran and I would disapprove if you brought home someone who wasn't." Neville nodded in understanding and prayed that this would be the extent to the discussion. "I mean, it would be easier if she was a pureblood. She would know our customs and you two wouldn't have to argue about what world you wanted to live in and there wouldn't be this great cultural gap, but if she's not we wouldn't care so much."

"We want you to be happy, Neville. We really do. But now that you're at the age where, well, you are interested in … romantic relations," his uncle decided diplomatically. "You need to start thinking about what you value in the girls you choose to date. Do you want someone who shares your culture? It's not something to dislike, but you have to remember if you marry let's say a muggleborn, they will want their children raised with certain ideals from their world. Nothing wrong with that, but you must be okay with it. Same for if you marry some girls from this world. There are still a lot of very strict pureblood families."

"I just want you to realize that dating is not something you can just play around with. There is a lot of feelings that come into play. So if you did get involved with someone, I want you to be involved with them for the right reasons. I don't want you being one of those boys that dates a girl because you want to snog her senseless."

"Right. Okay," Neville nodded, hoping that this would now be the end.

"Not saying you shouldn't want to snog them senseless," Uncle Algie continued. "I mean, if you don't want to kiss the girl until you suffocate then she's probably not the one for you." Neville groaned, but his uncle ignored him and continued on. "It's a big deal, Neville. Your gran and I have never approved of teenagers dating just for the hell of it. When you are putting feelings into a relationship and someone is giving you their feelings it's not a casual matter. It's a big deal. I can't tell you how much a broken heart hurts. It's awful. It's like something ripped your heart out of your chest and took the color from the world. Food doesn't taste right and you always feel like you're on the brink of tears. It's awful. You need to take care in your choices when it comes to dating. I would be very ashamed to hear you dated a witch casually and then broke her heart when you got bored."

"I wouldn't do that," Neville proclaimed, heat rising to his cheeks.

"Good," the older man clipped, shaking his shoulders good naturedly. "But I still need to talk to you about some things."

"Uncle Al, I really don't need this talk. I don't. I understand. Really I do."

"Then you can just sit here and nod along," his uncle shrugged, his hand gripping Neville's shoulder even more firmly. "I know right now you and the other boys like to talk a lot about girls and, well, I know some of those talks aren't very… appropriate."

"Oh, gods," Neville groaned, putting his face in his hands.

"You, uh, know how it all works right? The parts and, well, what you do with a woman, right?"

"Yes," Neville groaned.

"I know we talked about it some when you were younger, but there's a lot more to it then the mechanics of it all. I know that they also talked with you boys about it at Hogwarts, but I highly doubt they covered the emotional part of it all and—"

"Uncle Algie, this really isn't necessary. Really it's not."

"It is, trust me," the older man sighed. "I know at your age you get curious about it and you think about all the time, and there's nothing wrong with that. I know you've probably looked at a fair share of some dirty magazines too, but I want you to understand that you shouldn't rush things like sex. For you right now the main thing is you want to because your hormones are going wild and it feels good and all those reasons are the very wrong reasons to do it. Because for girls how it feels is part of it but the bigger part for them is the emotional aspect."

"Just because I'm a boy doesn't mean the emotional aspect isn't important for me too," Neville pointed out, a bit peeved that his uncle would think differently. "I care just as much about that as a girl does. Maybe even more than some girls."

"I didn't mean to offend you," his Uncle apologized. "I just know that boys talk a lot and they all start to make you feel pressured to do things. Like if you're not doing something with a girl there is something wrong or—"

"That doesn't mean I would do it."

"I know," his Uncle sighed. "But it's everywhere and I know at your age it's all you boys can think of sometimes." Neville thought about the book Ron was reading "Twelve Fail-Safe ways to Charm Witches" and blushed as he remembered Ron's comment that it wasn't all about wand work. He had glimpsed at a few of the pages and it was pretty obvious that the subject his uncle was talking about was definitely a topic in that book.

"We just talk," Neville muttered his ears beginning to heat up. "I'm sure girls talk about it as well."

"I'm sure they do," his Uncle agreed. "But I want you to realize it's supposed to be special and that when you do decide you want that you need to make sure the person you're with wants it too and doesn't feel pressured to do it because she wants to please you. I don't want you feeling pressured either," his uncle added. "I also don't want you forgetting to use a charm."

"I won't," Neville reassured.

"We don't need an heir anytime soon," his Uncle chuckled. "Your gran and Mable need reminding of that, but really you wait and do the thing properly. Marriage is a very, very big deal, Neville. You're bonded by a lot more than a piece of paper. Your magic and her magic are going to be locked to one another. It's very serious. You are going to live a very very long time, son. A long time and you will have a miserable life if you choose the wrong witch."

"How do you know which is the right one?" Neville asked, now actually interested in what his Uncle had to say.

"You just know," his Uncle nodded. "I mean after a while the passion starts to change. It doesn't go away, it just changes. It doesn't threaten to burn you alive anymore, it's different. Things that are silly start to mean more to you than anything else." His Uncle grew silent for a moment and Neville suddenly felt like he was invading something. "And your magic… It feels different. Maybe it feels different because you're happy and it's a kind of happiness you only know when you're in love, or maybe it's something else. Maybe our magic knows before us that it's around the one, but my point is you feel it."

"What if… what if you can't be with that person?" Neville asked curiously. "Like you just can't."

"Because they've passed?"

"No," Neville said slowly. "I mean what if you just can't be with them. Like you both love one another, but you can't be together."

"Why would you not be able to be together if you loved one another?"

Neville shrugged and murmured that he didn't know, not wanting to give anything away.

"If she's the one you will be together," his Uncle promised, tightening his grip on him. "Trust me. Nothing would keep you or her apart. Love is very powerful, Neville."

Neville doubted that love would be enough for Graces and himself. Even if it was a matter of love and Graces somehow did love him as much as he loved her, she also loved her family and he doubted that romantic love could tear her away from those bonds.

"Your gran and I won't be around forever, Neville," Uncle Algie continued softly. "I'm sure you've noticed that we are getting older."

"Yeah, but you two are in good health," Neville dismissed, not at all liking this turn.

"We are," his uncle nodded pulling him closer as though to hug him with one arm. "But the thing is when we pass that will be it. We won't be here anymore and, well, we both don't want you to be alone."

Neville suddenly felt sick. He had never thought about the fact that when his gran and uncle passed he would be all alone.

"Now, don't go making yourself worried," his Uncle laughed sensing his fears. "You have plenty of time. We both are in good health, but I just want you to be thinking of these things. You want a partner in life, someone that takes away all your loneliness. Don't marry someone just because you like them enough and they're a pretty face. You marry someone as sweet and genuine as you, Neville. Someone that you consider to be your best friend. Now, I know your gran doesn't approve of that Luna girl, but if you like her I'll tell her to keep her thoughts to herself."

"Luna? No, she's just a friend. I don't think we're a very good match. She's a bit off in her own world too often for my taste."

"I see," Algie nodded, pursing his lips a bit. "And, uh, what about this Malfoy girl then? What was that about?"

"You heard about that, huh?" Neville asked, hoping to stall for time.

"Your gran was mighty upset about it. Someone decided to shove it in her face when she was out in Diagon Alley." Neville groaned at the image of some pureblood high society witch bringing up such gossip to his gran. "Not exactly who we think of you being with, Neville. Pretty girl for sure, but she doesn't seem very kind."

Neville was glad that his Uncle had chosen to not mention Graces' family and instead was going off what he heard of her personality. Neville really couldn't argue that Graces was a kind individual if his uncle had heard what she had said to him when he asked her out, so instead he nodded in agreement.

"You're young," his uncle grinned. "Don't be too hard on yourself about it. Just remember lust is very different than love. When you think of asking a girl out pretend that you have to talk to her through a closed door for a week, then decide if you want to date her."

Neville was relieved when his uncle stood up from the bench.

"Well, I think that's enough talk don't you?" Neville nodded enthusiastically causing both of them to share a laugh. "I know. Not so fun to talk about. I remember when my dad gave me a talk. I remember when my mother did too, be thankful your gran doesn't want to sit you down and discuss those matters with you."

"I am," Neville laughed. "I'm very, very glad."

"As you should be," the older man winked. "Are you coming back in?"

"Oh, no I think I'll go check on those estates now," Neville reminded, heading back towards the house so he could grab the portkeys, since he couldn't apparate. "I'll be back sometime after lunch."

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Graces was beginning to grow incredibly anxious. She felt like she had been waiting in the open field for Neville for hours. Granted she knew it had only been ten minutes, but she was tired of waiting. She shouldn't be there at all anyways. She should be at Hogwarts. If Draco knew she left the castle he would lock her in the dungeons until summer probably. She had used the portkey that Thomas gave her to get to the Higgs mansion and then from there apperated to the spot Neville told her to meet him, all things she should not be doing. She just thanked the gods her father had connections in the ministry and had the trace taken off her and Draco, or she would surely be facing some serious consequences. Harry Potter may be able to get away with underaged magic, but she couldn't when her father was locked away.

After a few more moments of waiting she decided that she should leave. Neville must have not been able to get away, or he forgot about their meeting. She had just put her hand in her pocket to touch the portkey to return to the Higgs mansion and then to Hogwarts when she felt Neville's hand on her shoulder.

"Going somewhere?" he asked with a knowing smile.

"I-I—" Graces frowned, it seemed so silly now. "I was going to go back to the castle."

"Were you," Neville smirked. "Whatever possessed you to want to do that? I mean, you haven't even seen the safe house."

"I don't know," Graces whispered, letting go of the portkey. "I just—"

"Had an overwhelming urge to leave?"

"What's going on?" Graces accused, stepping away and looking around the field.

"You know how there are charms to ward off muggles?" Graces nodded. "This safe house has a charm to ward off witches and wizards. You get here and suddenly have a million excuses to leave."

"Smart."

"My father apparently thought so," Neville smirked, taking out a piece of paper and handing it over to her.

Graces read the address on the old piece of parchment and looked up to see the safe house standing just a few hundred yards in front of her. It was no mansion, just a simple home. It was in dire need of paint and the windows looked like they could use a good wash, but it wasn't as bad as she had thought it may be.

"Come on, I'll give you the tour," Neville grinned, walking in front of her to the door. "It's not grand or anything in there, but I think you'll be satisfied. You will definitely be safe," Neville stressed, opening the door for her.

Graces looked up at him hesitantly before walking into the home.

"The bedrooms are upstairs and, well, you can see where the kitchen and other rooms are."

It was definitely different than what she was used to. She had grown up in a home where the library was in the west wing, the kitchens in the east, the dining room being in the east by the kitchen and the formal dining room being northeast. She wasn't used to stepping into a home and seeing where the living room and dining room was. She took a step forward and turned into the hall that lead to the dining room, halting as she realized the kitchen was connected to it. It was as though the big room was just divided: the first half was the dining room the second half was the kitchen. There was no walls separating the two.

"Pretty standard kitchen," Neville shrugged, leaving Graces to believe that this home wasn't as shabby as she believed. "There's a walk-in pantry over here," Neville informed, moving over and opening the door. "I stocked it just in case. I don't really know what kind of food you all like, but I figured I couldn't go wrong with all these. We have multiple gardens around the estates so you will always be in good supply of fruits and vegetables so long as they are in season."

Graces nodded and picked up a can of formula that she assumed was for Octavian.

"He's starting solids now," Graces informed quietly, smiling at the thought of how big he was getting.

"Oh, so what does he need?"

"I'll take care of it," Graces offered. "I'll stock this myself for Octavian if you give me a portkey."

"Sounds like a plan," Neville smiled, reaching in his pocket and handing Graces two old iron keys. Graces raised an eyebrow at the second one, before realizing it was for Draco. "I just want to make sure you both are safe," Neville explained, his hands resting on her shoulders. "I know what Graham said made you scared, but Graces you are safe here. Alastor Moody himself helped set this place up. You all would be safe."

"I think Draco just needs to see it," Neville continued slowly.

"You want me to bring him here?" Graces asked, a bit surprised that Neville thought that would be a good idea.

"I do," Neville confirmed. "I think if he saw this place, got to stand in the rooms, see the fields he would start thinking of it as real. Right now it's just some fairy tale, but once he sees it that will change."

Graces looked around the pantry and bit her lip unsurely.

"Either way he needs that portkey," Neville stressed. "Just in case."

"I know," Graces conceded. "I just don't know if it will work. Draco really doesn't think hiding is an option and-and if I bring him here he will have loads of questions that I can't answer."

"Just refuse to answer them."

"I can't just refuse to answer them, Neville," Graces groaned, stepping out of the pantry. "Draco and I don't operate like that. Well, at least we never used to before all this." She waved her hand around instead of listing all the things that had torn her and her brother apart. She could feel Neville's arms wrapping around her to give her support and she leaned back into his chest, not too proud to take it.

"You do what you think is best," he whispered, gently kissing the back of her head. "But let me put away some of your fears and show you the best part of this house."

Graces followed Neville outside the kitchen and into an old shed, where he lifted a part of the floor up and beckoned her to jump down. Graces at first refused, not liking the idea of jumping into basically dirt. It wasn't a cellar in there; it was just a giant hole, but Neville insisted and she eventually hopped in with him.

"There's probably spiders in here."

"Probably, but look at the wall."

Graces looked to where Neville was pointing, but didn't quite understand what it was she was looking at. Mable, Ipsy, Fennel, Prod and a whole list of odd names were written along an old sign against the dirt wall.

"I don't understand," she admitted impatiently.

"If for some reason someone finds you here—it won't happen, but if it does—you all need to get out here. Hide out in this cellar and just call out one of those names and one of our house elves will be here to take you somewhere safe. You will know the moment someone comes near the property, it will feel like your whole body is vibrating. If you feel that bring everyone down here, and if the vibrations begin to hurt—it will feel like needles pricking your skin—call out one of the names immediately. If the vibrations turn painful it means they are in the house."

"What if the elves don't come?"

"They will come," Neville promised, wrapping his arms around her. "They will come and they will know that there is danger because of where you are calling from. They all have been given strict orders to come here if called."

Graces racked her brain for a reason this couldn't work and couldn't find any. This place was better than she had even dreamed. An escape plan, there was an escape if they were discovered. She leaned against Neville and realized she didn't need an escape plan. Neville was her secret keeper and she knew he would die before he let harm come to her. She looked up at him behind her and kissed him softly, unable to find words to express her gratitude.

"Shall we look at the rest of the house now?"

"Okay."

Neville helped her out of the hole and the two of them left the shed in awkward silence. She knew exactly what the tour of the bedrooms were going to lead to and while her and Neville had been together many times, it was still new for her to be with him and not cling to some delusion that it was casual. Neville seemed to be aware as to what was going to happen as well and while he took her in each room and took extra time to show her Octavian's room she knew he just wanted to get her into what would be her room.

"And this is your room," Neville announced, opening the door and allowing her to go in.

"You painted it purple," Graces noted, smiling as she walked around the small room.

"Well, yeah, it's your favorite color."

Graces smiled at Neville as he lingered in the doorway. She turned away so she could hide the fact she was trying not to laugh. Purple was her favorite color, but that didn't mean you should paint a room vibrant purple. She felt like the room was more for a little girl than for a woman. A pastel purple would have been better, but she found it just so… so wonderfully Neville that he would paint it the most purple purple he could find.

"You're adorable," she declared, shooting him a big smile from where she stood.

"So you like it?" Neville asked, seeming to be quite pleased with himself.

"I love it," Graces corrected, doing her best not to laugh as she noticed the sheets matching the paint.

"Good," Neville grinned, staying in the doorway and smiling proudly. "I was hoping you would."

They both just stood there for a few moments both unsure of what to do next. Graces gave Neville an awkward smile and he let out a nervous laugh and folded his arms. Graces smirked as Neville opened his mouth to say something and then quickly shut it. The nice thing about being with a Gryffindor was Graces knew she didn't have to wait long for him to just come out and say whatever he was thinking. She stayed silent as Neville fidgeted in the doorway mustering up his courage.

"I know I invited you here to put your mind at ease, but now I'm just dying to kiss you," Neville admitted, tightening his arms in front of the chest.

"Just kiss or more?"

"More," Neville answered striding across the room and taking her up in his arms and kissing her heatedly until she fell back onto the bed. Neville wasted no time in pulling her blouse up and over her head and discarding his own shirt as well. Graces didn't even have a moment to be self conscious about her scars, Neville was blanketing her with his body and devouring every inch of her he could find. It was pretty impossible to feel undesirable when the man you wanted most was on top of you crazed with need.

"I swear it feels like I'm burning alive with want," Neville gritted, his hands holding her firmly against his hot chest.

"I know the feeling," Graces smiled against his lips.

That familiar need was now pulsing between her legs and she bit her lip in anticipation as she felt Neville remove her bra and press his lips against her sensitive peaks. Graces closed her eyes and tipped her head back as Neville made his way down her body.

"Gods, I love your legs," Neville moaned, taking the last bit of her clothing off and kissing the inside of her ankle as he ran his hand down the smooth skin.

"Imagining them wrapped around your waist?" Graces teased, remembering Nevile's comment from so long ago.

Neville let out a deep throated chuckle and began trailing kisses up her legs causing the blonde's breath to hitch.

"No," he whispered growing closer to her sex. "Currently, I'm imagining them wrapped around my head."

Graces flushed at the image, but Neville seemed to have no embarrassment. He moved slowly up, dragging his tongue along the curve of her legs, enjoying the length. People had always joked that she was all legs and it wasn't until Neville that she realized exactly how long they were. She could feel her heart pounding faster with each passing second as the sandy haired boy moved closer and closer.

Graces groaned as Neville plundered her with his tongue. She had nearly forgotten how good it felt to have Neville's mouth on her like this. She grabbed his hair and pulled him closer, her legs quaking around him with pleasure as her body became more taut from the strength of what was building.

Neville seemed to be thoroughly enjoying the sounds she was making, as well as her fingers wrapped in his hair. She was dissolved with pleasure and he was playing her like a fine tuned instrument. It was almost too much and she found herself pushing away from him as the feeling became more intense. Neville chuckled at her antics and stood up from the bed to unbuckle his belt and remove what was left of his clothes.

She stood up with him and ran her hands down his body, kissing his chest while she ran his length in her hand.

"Not so hard," Neville chuckled, moving his hand to hers and showing her how he wanted to be touched. Graces flushed, but felt more at ease as she stared up at Neville's kind smile.

"Sorry."

Neville made some noise of amusement and shook his head dismissively.

"Lie back down," he ordered hungrily, pushing her back down onto the bed. "I'm not done with you, Miss Malfoy."

"Oh, you're not?" Graces grinned, letting out a small gasp as Neville moved back between her legs and slowly dragged his tongue along her.

"Definitely not," Neville grinned. "I'm going to make sure you are perfectly satisfied and then I am going to have you like I expect to die tomorrow."

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Neville gently kissed Graces' shoulder blade for what must have been the thousandth time. She laid beside him completely worn out and he never felt more alive. He ran his hands along her side, unable to keep himself from the porcelain skin gleaming before him. He loved seeing her like this. He loved knowing he could wear her out to the point of exhaustion.

"So if you died tomorrow would you be happy?" Graces asked, her voice still breathy.

"No," Neville laughed softly. "No, not at all. I think I would need to do that a few more times before I crossed over."

Graces hummed a satisfied response as he moved her hair and kissed the back of her neck.

"I would die happy," she revealed, stretching luxuriously and turning around to face him.

Neville smirked proudly and gathered her in his arms, too content for words.

"Can I ask you something?"

"What?" Graces asked, closing her eyes and laying against his chest.

"Would this be okay with you? Now that you've seen this place and know what it looks like, where you'll be, would you still rather be here than married to Montague?"

Graces opened her eyes and adjusted where she was lying so that she was on the pillow with Neville. She stared at him curiously for a few moments.

"What kind of silly question is that?"

"It's not that silly," Neville whispered, brushing his fingers against her cheek. "One plan means you are stuck, like a prisoner. And the other plan—" he continued taking a deep breath "—the other plan means you and the ones you love are free to go about your lives."

"Except Draco would be dead," Graces reminded.

"Not necessarily," Neville pointed out. "He could succeed at whatever task he has been given and you could marry Montague so you wouldn't have to take the mark."

"Where's this coming from?"

"I just want to know," Neville whispered, kissing her lips and reveling in the taste. "Is this still enough for you?"

"More than enough," Graces promised, leaning in and kissing him slowly.

"Good," Neville sighed, gathering her in so that she was tucked under his chin. He wanted to hold her close and beg her not to marry Montague, no matter what came, but he kept his mouth shut. Montague was the best safety net she had and also, if she decided she didn't want to take the mark he wanted her to have that option. He reminded himself that right now she was his and he held her tightly and vowed he would do everything and anything in his power to ensure he would never have to let her go.

"I'm not going to see you for the rest of the holiday, am I?" Graces asked quietly, her voice already becoming thick.

"No, you're not," Neville admitted, kissing her forehead. "I don't want to draw attention to this place. I don't want my uncle and gran coming here. Not to mention I don't want you leaving the castle. I just wanted you to have those portkeys and for you to feel safe again."

"I understand."

"I, uh, do have something for you though," Neville continued, taking his wand and summoning the picture Colin had given him. "I just thought maybe you would feel better if you had a way of seeing me."

Now that he was handing her the photograph he felt very silly. It was kind of an odd thing giving someone a picture of yourself, as though you think they want to stare at your face randomly through the day.

"You look so… dashing," Graces said, a small surprised smile forming on her lips.

"I don't know if I like how surprised you are by that." Neville laughed, moving her hands to look at the photo.

"I'm sorry," Graces laughed. "That's not what I meant. I mean... it is, but I don't know. You're always handsome, but something about this picture makes you look… sexy." Neville shot her a glance from the corner of his eyes, but didn't say a word. She did have a point, he just didn't know what it was about the picture that made him look that way. "What are you doing here?" Graces asked.

"Explaining what the roots of a mandrake plant do."

"Maybe that's it. You're teaching, you look so serious and… poised. Confident. You'll be one sexy professor one day, Mr. Longbottom. The girls in your class will be swooning when they catch their first glimpse of you teaching."

"Stop it," Neville scoffed, pushing the picture down. "You're such a prat."

"I'm adorable," Graces corrected, leaning up and kissing him. "Can I convince you to stay here with me for twenty more minutes," Graces asked, her hand disappearing underneath the sheets to meet with his already throbbing length.

"I think that can be arranged."

Thanks sooo much for reading! Don't forget to follow/review! Next chapter is all about Neville and his home life!