You'll Be The Death of Me

by Dominikki644

AU. OC: Graces Malfoy, Draco's twin sister. Neville, with his usual bad luck, ends up partners with Graces Malfoy for Herbology, just after landing her father in Azkaban, after the Ministry ordeal. Will this partnership prove to be as awful as it sounds? 6th year. Rated M for sexual content. Now on Ao3 As well.

78. Chapter 78

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/seeing a huge flaw in my plans and notifying me before I ruined the next few chapters and my best friend Aleah for reading it over!

Thank you to Omgitsfranklin, anand891996, Shayde F. Revelle, noone297, peygoodwin, trispectrum,bageltiger, Candy Couture, char170217, spyinsecret007, Guest, superscarface83, Amandalucia, AnnyJackson19, Blue Luver5000 , guest, snowflake2410, Sooo, danceswithnorhythm, SPARKELS77, Phoenix, calhounariel97, barby03, kira-akira, Malfoy Mouth James- MMJ, ReluctantMuggle for the reviews!

Special thanks to Gr8rockstarrox who reviewed every chapter! Holy crap! It was awesome haha reminded me of a lot that happened, it's been over two years so I forgot some of these scenes.

I'm so sorry this chapter was so late guys… I had to rewrite it. My beta pointed out a major plot hole that made me have to change everything! Big plothole was I had the date set up at an amusment park originally and didn't realize that in Febuary in this part of the world it would be freezing… SO whole date had to be rewritten. He found it with the last chapter, but infortunately I had already begun on this one… I am still just so disappointed. I think this one ended up better though :D

Chapter 78

Graces took another step back and Neville's heart sank slightly as her eyes wandered around the small pavilion, taking in the people, the crowds, the unfamiliar noise and none of it's beauty. Neville could already see she didn't see the happy faces, smell the aromas, she was already sinking into her panic.

Her hand slipped out of his and she pressed it close to her chest as she backed too far away for him to hold onto. "Neville, I-I'm so sorry, but I—"

"Scared, Malfoy?" Neville teased, doing his best to make light of the situation and closing the space between them.

Graces' eyes fixated on the people ahead of them. She stared for a few moments, her lips slightly parted to take in the extra air her lungs seemed to think they needed. "Yes, actually. I am."

She looked back up at him with such helplessness he had an urge to just forget the whole affair and take her home.

"You have nothing to be scared of here, Graces," he reassured, moving so she couldn't see anything but him.

"If you believe that you're a fool." He was losing her, and he was losing her fast. He could see the fear turning to anger and frustration. "How could you," she hissed. "How could you bring me here! Here! Of all places!"

"Graces—"

"Stones, drowned, burned! I am not going in there," she choked, the lump in her throat growing so big she could barely speak. "I won't! If something happened if—"

"Dr. Harris" Neville interrupted, grabbing at the only thing he could think of. Her doubts. Her doubts that he had never out right confronted or pushed.

Graces' fell silent at the name and Neville felt some relief to see the small flicker of doubt come to her eyes.

"He knew who you were and what you were."

"That was different. He was different. I—"

"I've lived in a muggle town my whole life, Graces. I went to a muggle school before attending Hogwarts." Graces' eyes widened at his proclamation. "He wasn't different," Neville murmured quietly. "Not really. Yes, they would be scared if they knew. I have no doubt about that. There would be issues, just as we are scared of what we don't know. But they're just people, Graces. No one is going to know what you are, or what I am. You are perfectly safe, and I wouldn't allow you to be anything but."

"You know I am a wizard," Neville reminded, giving her a charming grin to help eliminate her doubt. "I broke into the Ministry, I think I can handle a few muggles." The ends of her mouth flicked slightly and Neville continued on. "And, may I remind you my dear, you are a witch. A witch who doesn't have a trace placed on her."

"Do I detect some jealousy, Mr. Longbottom?"

"A bit," Neville admitted. "Wish I had friends that high in the Ministry."

Graces let out a small laugh and Neville prayed that he had her.

"Do you still want to go back?" he asked hesitantly. Graces bit her lower lip and moved so she could look back out. He knew she was frightened and in hindsight maybe this was a bad decision, but he still hoped. "Please, trust me," he begged softly.

Silver eyes turned to his and he waited on bated breath for her decision.

"Don't leave me alone for one second," Graces stipulated before walking forward.

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Hermione tried to keep close as they walked towards the theatre. Neville was trying to explain to Graces how a movie worked, but the blonde was clearly beyond understanding. She asked a few times why not just see a play if it's like a play. And when Neville kept insisting it was a better than a play she would scowl and mutter about how she didn't believe pictures could be better than a live performance.

"You'll see why," Neville promised, not losing his grin. "You are going to love it."

"So you've said."

Neville didn't seem to mind or notice Graces' mood as they came up to the queue to buy tickets, but Hermione was definitely noticing his. Hermione had never seen Neville quite like this. She watched as he talked and talked, not seeming to mind that Graces' didn't give him much of a response back. He seemed… content… happy. Hermione felt a pain of guilt for not knowing what Neville was like when he was happy. She realized now that she had never truly seen Neville blissfully happy.

"I, uh, decided on a romantic comedy," Neville said nervously, clearly having some second thoughts as they neared the front. Graces looked up at him, patiently waiting for him to explain. "There are multiple picture shows to see and, well, I thought romantic comedy would be good. I mean, most girls like romantic comedies and I just thought since you're a girl and—"

"Glad we've established that," Graces scoffed, staring up at Neville and not bothering to hide her amusement at his fluster. Neville blushed and opened his mouth to apologize, but Graces just snorted and waved away his attempt. "I am sure you've chosen well," she dismissed, going back to looking at the posters around them. "If you didn't I will inform you."

"Oh you will, will you?"

Graces smiled predatorily up at him.

"I will. When you ask for a second date I shall decline."

"Ah, so no pressure then."

Graces didn't answer. She just went back to taking in all that was around her. Neville seemed inclined to continue pestering her on the subject but was soon called up front. Graces followed while Neville purchased the tickets and he had to clear his throat to break her attention away from the computer the ticket seller was using so they could enter.

Hermione watched Graces take everything in. She seemed intrigued with every noise and source of light around her. She looked like a muggleborn in Diagon Alley. Hermione wished she could move closer. She couldn't hear any of the conversation between the two of them. She knew Graces was asking questions. She would see something—a light, an arcade room, a pager—and ever so slightly turn and whisper something in Neville's ear and it was obviously a question judging on the way Neville looked when replying.

He was so gentle with her. He watched her move around the lobby with such adoration it was impossible to deny his love for her. He kept a step back from her as she explored and his eyes only left her to check that no one was getting too near. Hermione noted the way Neville seemed to track anyone around them that appeared more rough around the edges and also the way his jaw stiffened at the site of a few other boys their age looking over at the pretty blonde admiring the lighted ceiling.

"Would you like to get some sweets before the showing?" Neville asked, checking his watch for the time.

"Muggle sweets?"

"They wouldn't have any other kind here." Graces' mouth twisted in thought. "They have chocolate," Neville added, smiling knowingly.

Hermione couldn't move into the line with them, but she stayed outside the rope by their side. Neville was telling her about every single sweet and what they were similar to in their world, while Graces thought over what she wanted. Neville smiled at her indecision and moved closer taking her hand in his for a brief moment before the blonde yanked it away.

"Oh Mer—I'm so sorry," Graces gasped bringing her hand to her mouth in embarrassment. "I—you caught me off guard and—"

"It's fine," Neville dismissed, his cheek burning red. Hermione watched as his eyes drifted to the strangers around them obviously humiliated to be shot down in front of an audience.

"Neville, no I—"

"Looks like we're up," Neville cut off, hurrying towards the counter to get away from the conversation he obviously didn't want to have. Graces after a moment's hesitation followed. Loaded with an arm full of popcorn and an assortment of candy the two of them walked over towards the cinema where the movie was playing. Hermione watched as Graces chewed her bottom lip and kept looking up at Neville staring straight ahead beside her.

"It was just a reaction," she whispered. "It truly was. I-I'm so used to being at Hogwarts and only having private moments with you. Being out in public is just—"

"It's really fine," Neville insisted, giving her a small smile and shrugging.

"I embarrassed you."

Neville laughed. "I am very used to you publicly humiliating me, Malfoy."

By the time they reached their seats Neville was still in good humor and so much so that he didn't even seem to mind when Graces complained, rather loudly, about the disgusting floors and seats.

"They're not even that dirty," Neville chuckled, taking his own seat.

"It's revolting," the blonde deadpanned, moving her feet slowly. "My feet are sticking to the floor, Longbottom. To the floor," she emphasized. "The last time my feet were stuck to a floor was because of a charm."

Neville shushed her and looked around at the slowing growing crowd of moviegoers, the movie wasn't set to start for another 15 minutes, but there were still many arrivals coming.

"Graces, you can't talk about that stuff here."

Graces just rolled her eyes and again brought up the problem of the sticky floors.

"If the floors are like this what will the chairs be like?"

Neville took a deep breath, that Hermione gathered was for patience, and stood from where he was seated to move his coat so that it covered the chair next to him.

"Better?"

"Much."

A couple sitting a few rows away seemed a bit amused by Graces' priss attitude and much to Neville's dislike the blonde gave them her ever famous Malfoy glare until they both looked away.

"Be nice," Neville scolded.

"That was me being nice. I said nothing scathing and I didn't hex them."

"Graces." Neville's tone was soft, but warning and Hermione wasn't at all surprised that the blonde just rolled her eyes before starting to look around.

"Is this the picture?"

"No these are just ads for the concession stand and restaurants. Some movie trivia will pop up once in awhile."

"What's the show about?"

"It's called Evita. It's about an Argentine president's wife. I don't know that much about it, honestly," Neville admitted, smiling shyly. "It came out last year. You will like it. Apparently the theatre is doing this special, since it's Valentine's Day weekend, and they are showing older movies and movies that came out last year that were really popular. Usually the theatre's only show new movies."

"Why?"

"Because new movies come out very often."

"What if you want to see an older one? Do you have to wait for a theater to show it again?"

"No, you can buy the older one after it leaves theatres."

Graces eyes widened. "Muggles have these in their homes?"

Neville frowned for a moment before he realized Graces was referring to the big screen in front of them.

"Oh, no no. They have smaller versions of that screen." Neville explained what a television was to Graces, but Hermione could see that the idea was over her head.

Soon the lights dimmed.

"Do you know who that woman is?" Neville whispered softly.

Graces frowned and shook her head.

"That, Graces Malfoy, is Madonna. Your idol," he added flatly.

Graces eyes widened and Neville smiled quietly as the blonde looked back up at the screen like a child seeing Hogwarts for the first time.

She had so many questions. Within the first few minutes of the movie, Neville was bombarded with questions about who the other actors were. How they captured the film the way they did. How was it possible for them to make plays better than them? Did they have to travel to make these pictures? How long did it take? Were the actors paid less because they really only acted once?

A woman in front shushed her before Neville could answer. Graces made some noise of indignation and made a move towards where Neville knew her wand to be, but before she could do anything out of anger Neville forcefully grabbed her arm and leaned her back. Apologizing to the woman in front.

"It is impolite to talk in movies," he whispered. "And hexing a muggle is a good way to be found out as a witch."

Graces' jaw tightened and a few moments later the person's drink spilled all over their lap causing the woman to curse loudly, giving Graces the opportunity to shush her. Neville glared at the blonde, but he wasn't able to maintain his anger as Graces pouted her lips and looked down with fake contrition.

"What will I do with you, Miss Malfoy?"

Graces didn't answer, instead she took her drink and sipped it happily. She looked as though she were humming a tune she seemed so pleased with herself. Neville shook his head, amused. Slowly they slipped into what looked so normal. Graces moved closer to where Neville was seated, never taking her eyes off the screen.

And Neville didn't take his eyes off her. He watched her from the corner of his eye like she watched the people on the screen, captivated by her. He took his attention away only to see what had her laughing or what was making her lean closer. Anytime Madonna was singing she looked as though she were close to jumping up and down in her chair and he glowed with affection for her.

Hermione could tell he wanted to take her hand again. Every once in awhile he would fidget in his seat and move his hand slightly towards her and then think better of it. He did this for most of the movie before making a face of annoyance with himself and just reaching out and taking the blonde's hand. Graces jumped slightly but didn't yank her hand away. She sat there for a few moments adjusting to the feel, looking at the people around her and then ever so delicately she took her hand away.

Neville didn't show any obvious disappointment on his face, but it was there, belied by the way his body seemed to tense and the fact that now his eyes were glued to the screen ahead. Hermione wasn't surprised by Graces taking her hand away, but she was surprised when Graces moved the arm rest separating them and tucked herself against Neville's side so that his arm draped over her. Neville seemed a bit stunned at first, as did Graces, apparently not quite believing herself to be so daring, but as the time passed the two seemed to settle and then it looked as though they were used to the close contact. As though it was natural for Graces Malfoy and Neville Longbottom to cuddle in a dark movie theatre.

Hermione slipped out of the theatre before the movie ended, not wanting to be bumped by the people standing to leave. She waited a distance away from the door until the two of them emerged hand in hand.

"Can we watch another?" Graces asked excitedly, already skipping to be in line for tickets and dragging Neville along with her.

"Another?"

"Yes! I want to see all of them!"

"All of them!" Neville exclaimed. "Graces, we don't have time in one day for all of them."

"Oh," Graces sighed, still standing in line. "Then most of them."

"You know, I had other plans for the day. Not just the movies," Neville persisted, moving backwards and trying to coax her from the line. "I made reservations at a restaurant for brunch. A nice one," Neville added. " A really nice one."

"I go to elegant breakfasts, brunches, lunches and dinners all the time," Graces smiled. "I never get to see this. Please." Neville looked to the sky and tried to look scolding, but he was very poor at it. He couldn't keep from smiling and the next thing he knew he was handing the woman at the register some money and receiving movie tickets.

"Only one more," Neville stipulated. "I can't live off sweets and popcorn. I do need some semblance of a proper lunch, even if it is a late one, and we are not missing the other things I have planned for the day."

"What plans?" Graces asked, chewing on a piece of licorice idly.

"Plans," Neville repeated, guiding Graces into the theatre to watch their next movie "The English Patient".

"My Hungarian is rusty, is this all going to be in Hungarian?"

"You speak Hungarian?"

"I speak many languages," Graces shrugged. Neville scowled and looked like he wanted to ask her a few questions, but Graces just giggled and pointed to the screen.

"What are those?" Graces gasped, staring at the screen as shots were fired at the plane.

"Guns," Neville whispered.

"They-they take down planes?"

"They can." Graces turned to him, her eyes still begging for an answer. "They're weapons… It's- it's like an odd wand that that only is used to do a killing curse, only you don't die instantly. It has to hit you just right."

Graces seemed a bit unsettled by Neville's explanation, but continued to watch.

"What-what are those?"

"That's a bomb."

"How does it work?"

"You are very close to being shushed again, Miss Malfoy."

Graces stuck out her tongue in a very un-Malfoy-ish fashion and grinned. She obviously didn't enjoy this movie as much as the first. Hermione could tell she was confused by some of the plot, uncomfortable with the nude sexual scenes and disapproving of the love affair between a married woman and the main character.

"You're very bashful with nudity," Neville teased, exiting the theatre and taking Graces deeper into the town.

"I've only seen women and men nude like that in art… Certainly not live and ...intimate. You're not bashful enough," Graces challenged, something in her eyes sparking. "Viewed many naked women, Longbottom? Have a few magazines?"

Neville pinked, but didn't answer either of Graces' questions.

"That's a bit of a private question don't you think?"

"Ah, so you do," Graces said, something biting in her tone.

"No."

"So you don't."

Neville seemed incredibly uncomfortable and he kept rubbing the back of his neck as he looked for the answers in the pavement

"I-I did," Neville began slowly, his neck almost purple, as his brown eyes shifted to her as they walked. "But, um, I did away with them in September."

The ends of Graces' mouth flicked, but she didn't ask what happened in September. She did however take Neville's hand in hers as they continued to stroll down the streets.

"Where are we going? Is it still a surprise?"

"Not that much of a surprise," Neville chuckled. "I was going to take you to a nice brunch, but since you were insistent on a movie I am now just taking you to a pub I like. The other place requires a reservation since it's Valentine's Day weekend."

"A pub you like?" Neville nodded. "You know this area well enough to have a pub you like?"

Neville gave her a mysterious grin.

"Is this the town you grew up in?"

"No."

"Then how do you know the pub?"

"My gran likes movies. Thus I knew the theatre. My grandfather enjoyed this pub. Thus I know the pub."

"You all would come do these things together?"

"Yes, my gran and I still do come here. My Uncle Algie joins as well. What?"

"Nothing."

Neville raised a questioning brow at Graces. "Did you think my childhood was all tragedy?"

"No, of course not. You just don't discuss it much with me."

"I don't talk about much of anything very much," Neville pointed out. "It's odd for me to talk about myself."

"I wonder why that is."

Neville shrugged. "I'm quiet by nature, I suppose."

"Or maybe it's because you were made to go to a muggle primary school where you couldn't really talk about yourself."

"Aw, I was wondering when you were going to turn that tid bit of information against me."

"I'm not using anything against you. I'm just saying it may have had an effect."

"Maybe it did." Neville shrugged, opening the door to the pub. "But I don't believe it was a negative one. And if there was negative effects to it, I believe the positive outweigh them." The two of them were ushered over to a quiet corner booth. Graces became quiet in front of the waitress, leaving Neville to order them their drinks as well as their food.

"Do you like fish and chips?"

"You're ordering our food with the drinks?" Graces asked, clearly offended at the idea. "Right away. Without taking time to look at the menu or just enjoy the drinks?"

"I'm starved, so yeah. Back to the question do you like fish and chips?" Graces shrugged unsurely. Neville frowned curiously at her indecisiveness and ordered two stouts and two orders of fish and chips.

"You don't know if you like fish and chips?" Neville asked incredulously when the waitress was out of ear range.

"No," Graces confirmed. "I was always told it's a pauper's meal."

"A pauper's meal," Neville repeated, a bit disbelieving. "Really?" Graces gave a small nod and Hermione was surprised at how well Neville was taking the slight. "And, uh, you and Draco never ordered it at the Three Broomsticks?"

"Why would we? Hogwarts feeds us three elaborate meals a day."

Neville let out a small snort of laughter. "I suppose you have a point."

Neville thanked the waitress for the beers and again they were alone.

"You've had beer before correct?"

"Not really," Graces admitted. "A few butter beers here and there at cheap parties, but for the most part wine and hard liquor."

"I take it your parents would say beer is for paupers too, eh?"

Graces bit her lower lip for a moment, before delicately stating that she didn't want to offend him.

"I'm not offended," Neville insisted, taking a long sip of his beer.

Graces hesitated. "I don't think you're a pauper."

"Try your beer, Malfoy," Neville dismissed, shaking his head in affectionate exasperation.

Graces seemed pleased she wasn't in trouble for her callous words and reached for her drink.

"That's lovely."

Graces looked up at their server who was passing by. "Are they real?"

Hermione looked at the blonde's wrist to the bracelet of flowers she was wearing. She herself hadn't even noticed it until now. Graces was wearing an assortment of gold bangles around it to accent her dress and they seemed to overlap it, but how with her hand raised clutching her beer the small bracelet of flowers showed very brightly. Neville seemed to just be noticing it's appearance as well.

"They are."

"It's lovely."

"Thank you."

The waitress looked like she wanted to ask a bit more questions about the bracelet, but Graces' cold politeness seemed to deter her.

"I didn't notice you were wearing that," Neville flushed.

"I like it. And I've never had the opportunity to show it off before. So I decided to use the occasion, same with this piece," Graces added, gesturing to the pendent floating on the long chain, before taking her first sip of the stout Neville ordered her.

"That's a lovely face," Neville snorted, doing his best not to laugh.

"This is horrid."

"As my Uncle Algie said when I had my first pint, 'keep sipping, it'll grow on you.'"

Graces seemed skeptical, but she continued to sip until the food arrived and then when the food arrived her skepticism went to the fried feast in front of her.

"It smells good."

"It is good. Try it. Oh! And put some of this on the chips," Neville suggested, pushing the malt vinegar towards her. Graces took a tentative bite and made some noise of approval.

"That's delicious!"

"Paupers know how to eat," Neville grinned.

They sat quietly for a few moments, Neville finally getting some proper food in his stomach, all the while not noticing Graces' eyes on him.

"What were the positive aspects of going to a muggle school?"

Neville paused in his eating and looked up at Graces thoughtfully.

"Muggles aren't… foreign to me. I mean... they're different, but then they're not. They're just… people. People who feel the same way you and I feel," Neville finished quietly.

Graces didn't seem to have a reply to Neville's statement and quietly let the subject drop. Hermione hoped Neville would continue to talk to her, but the sandy-haired boy she had known for so many years just smiled contently and sipped his beer.

"So tell me, Longbottom, I know the garden story of why you fell in love with plants, but what continues to keep you intrigued."

Neville chuckled and popped another chip into his mouth as he mulled over his thoughts. "I-I don't know. It's—I guess I find plants fascinating."

"Go on," Graces pressed, taking a sip of her drink and eyeing Neville over the brim.

"Okay, look at it this way," the Gryffindor continued, leaning over the table slightly, his eyes alive with excitement. "You eat a plant and something bad happens. Poison. You eat a plant and something good happens. Medicinal. You eat a plant and nothing happens. Salad."

Graces leaned back in her seat and laughed.

"I've never heard anyone explain it like that before."

"I'm correct though."

"You are."

"Plants are fascinating," Neville repeated, raising his glass and then taking a sip.

"I'm sure they are," Graces placated, a challenging look in her eyes. "Please continue."

Neville raised an eyebrow. "You do not want me to talk about plants."

"I do," Graces grinned. "Come, Professor Longbottom, teach me something."

"What do you want to know?"

"Tell me—" Graces paused and then smiled wickedly. "—tell me about dangerous plants."

Neville seemed hesitant at first, but after a few moments he started talking. He told her about Dendrocnide Moroides, a plant that caused severe pain if you so much as touched it. A plant that causes you to temporarily go mad. A plant that could cause cardiac arrest. A plant that smelled of corpses. A tree that when touched would burn you. On and on he went. He got so excited about one plant that he gestured out and spilled his pint over the table, causing the liquid to cascade down the edge. Neville flushed and apologized to the waitress as she went to get a rag, but Graces waved at him to continue. Hesitantly Neville began again and after a few moments he was continuing on with the same enthusiasm. And Graces was hanging on every word, never once getting a glazed expression, always having questions for Neville to answer.

They left the pub hand in hand, Graces staring up at him with amused affection as they walked through the muggle streets. Hermione trailed behind, aware that no one in their house had ever listened to Neville this intently, nor had she ever seen him speak so much at one time. She couldn't help but wonder, though, was Graces actually interested or was she playing a part? Being what she thought Neville needed for some alternative motive. She wanted to bury her doubts and believe that Graces really did care for him, but so many things didn't make sense. What she said those few months ago, the way the blonde seemed to enjoy having Neville wrapped tightly around her finger, the fact that she could be so fascinated by plants.

"The problem with giant hogweed lies in the furanocoumarin, a phototoxic compound in the sap that can transfer when a person touches the plant. It gets into the nucleus of a person's skin cells and bonds straight with the DNA, which—"

Neville was silenced by Graces soundly pressing her lips against his. The blonde stood on her tip toes, wrapping her arms about his neck while people walked passed.

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"Okay, no more plant talk" Neville breathed, already missing Graces' lips as she moved away.

Graces laughed at his self deprecation and smacked his arm playfully.

"I like it when you talk about plants."

"So you say."

"I do… You're very sexy when you talk about plants."

"I believe you've said that before," Neville chuckled, enjoying the feel of Graces hand clasped in his and hoping his hands weren't as clammy as he thought they were.

"So, should we go back now?" Graces asked. Neville was suddenly very hot. He looked down at Graces giving him her bedroom eyes and suddenly wanted to throw the rest of the day away, portkey back to their room and spend the rest of the day under the covers.

"I, uh, there's more."

"More?" Graces exclaimed, still keeping her arms around his neck. "What else are we doing?"

"I'm taking you to a play."

"A play?" Graces frowned. "I'm not dressed for a play. I mean—this is very nice," Graces back tracked. "Truly a lovely dress, even if it is muggle, but it's not formal enough for a play."

"Well. I didn't get us tickets to a nice theatre. It's a smaller one, run by people who like to act. They're not professional actors. It's a thespian society and—"

"It's a school play?"

"Sort of, only the people aren't in school. They're older. Thus, you're dressed fine."

Neville suddenly felt very self-conscious in his decision.

"They're doing Hamlet," he explained, walking forward as Graces untangled herself from him. "I thought Hamlet was fitting."

It took her a moment, but soon a small smile appeared. He had wondered if she would remember giving him the copy of Hamlet disguised as a beginner's potions book, or if he saw more in that act than she did.

"You're such a sap, Longbottom," she proclaimed, her laugh breathy and light as she shook her head. "Such a sap."

"You know what else I am?"

"A blood traitor?"

Neville narrowed his eyes at the blonde. "I was going to say your valentine, but I suppose I am both."

Graces murmured something about ridiculous, foolish, sentimental Gryffindors, but Neville could tell that she was touched. Today was as special to her as it was to him. She had curled her hair, done her eye make-up (which he hadn't seen her do in months), even worn a different perfume that had his skin crawling to hold her close.

"You're staring, Longbottom."

"Sorry," Neville apologized, not really feeling at all contrite. He was too busy noticing the way her hair flew in the breeze. "You know, sometimes, I still don't know what you're doing with me."

Graces was quiet for a few moments, she stared down at the pavement and around at her surroundings. "Sometimes I think the same thing."

"No you don't," Neville scoffed. "You're pretty, talented, bright, sharp, educated well beyond what is taught in Hogwarts, cultured—"

"And a lot of trouble," Graces cut in. "Spoiled, quick to anger, slow to forgive… and spiteful."

Graces brushed her hair behind her ears and stared at him. "I have none of your good nature, Neville. None."

"That's not true, I've seen you do many good deeds."

"All of which benefited me or those I hold dear."

"You had that wing made for my parents."

"I had that wing made for you," Graces pointed out, moving closer to Neville so she could hold his arm as they walked hand in hand. "I hold you dear."

Neville didn't know what to say, and he honestly didn't want to say anything anyways. He wanted to hold on to this moment forever. He wanted to bottle it and carry it around with him for the rest of his life. He didn't care that this couldn't continue once they got back to the grounds, he had it now.

She loved the play. The small company put on a splendid show and Graces was even impressed enough to want to stay after and mingle with the actors and actresses. She said she loved their passion and was offended at how little they made. Neville had an impression that they would soon be getting a very generous anonymous donation. And the whole time they were there, she had not once let go of his hand. Even when talking to the cast, she had moved his arm around her waist.

It was silly, but he was proud. He felt like he was something grand because she was his. Like her being with him was a reflection of himself. He had a girl like Graces Malfoy, surely that meant he was something more than what he thought of himself.

"Do you think we missed dinner in the Great Hall?" Graces asked, leaning her head against his arm as they strolled hand in hand.

Neville chuckled. "No, but we will. I'm not done with you yet, Miss Malfoy."

"There's more?"

"There is. I doubt you will allow me many opportunities to take you out, so I have to get as much in as possible."

Graces smiled and moved her hand out of his and wrapped his arm around her shoulder, so she was cradled comfortably against him. "Where now?"

"It's still a surprise," Neville smiled, turning Graces down a dimly lit road that eventually lead away from the town.'

The air was crisp and refreshing despite the bite of cold. Graces wondered where they could be going so far away from the town. The road was now dirt, bumpy with rocks and potholes and the fields around them held no sign of life. The only thing guiding them seemed to be the stars glittering in the sky.

"It's beautiful out tonight," she whispered quietly.

"It is."

"Quiet too."

Neville made some noise of agreement, but Graces had a feeling he wasn't quite with her anymore.

"Everything okay?"

Neville gave her a timid smile, before stating they weren't too far now.

"Far from what?"

Neville sucked in a deep breath and before Graces understood what was happening he was giving her an address, an address that allowed her to see past the Fidelius charm on the property around her.

Graces gasped when she realized the broken road she was on was not broken and it was winding up in what appeared to be a field. She turned this way and that taking in her surroundings. The old trees around her, the candles lit along the road in small glass jars, guiding her eyes to a small cottage.

Neville remained silent as she stared at the home in front of her, but she could feel his eyes on her every move.

"Is this—is this your parents' home?"

"It is."

"And this was your parents' town," Graces breathed, unable to believe she hadn't realized this until now.

She turned and looked at the boy in front of her. She knew this was hard for him. He didn't show it; he just smiled quietly, but she knew, because she knew him. She knew he was private, that he didn't like discussing himself or his parents. Neville bringing her here was something so precious and intimate that she knew she could know him for the rest of her life and never fully appreciate how much it meant.

She leaned in and brushed her lips against his, her heart full of affection she didn't know she possessed for him. She silently moved towards the house, knowing Neville was staying behind her, watching her reaction.

It was a small cottage, nothing grand or special: one story, two windows and a light blue door. She could see the remains of the garden—not abandoned, just sleeping for winter. She wondered if Neville was the one who tended to it during the summer. The cobble steps leading up to the door obviously were wedged between rows of flowers during the beautiful seasons, and she imagined Neville was the one to keep them up. She had a feeling his gran would have difficulty bending to tend to such details. And then she stopped and remembered. Neville had never been here before. He told her months ago that he had never been here.

She didn't know what to think of that. He had never been here and the first time he chose to come it was with her.

"You've never been here before," she breathed aloud, her hands trembling slightly.

"I came here a few days ago," Neville said, his voice giving her no indication of how that trip made him feel.

When she reached the house she stood in the doorway, her feet weighted down with nervousness. The couches were not covered, the pictures sitting on the mantle were dustless and the only way you would know that the house was not lived in was the stale scent of air surrounding them.

It was then that she realized, among the stale air and false warmth, that this cozy home was just an illusion. Maybe once long ago this was a home, a home filled with love and laughter, but now… now it was a tomb. She took a step back, spooked at the idea.

"It's just a house," Neville whispered quietly, his arms coming to her shoulders to steady her.

"It's the way they left it, isn't it?"

He was standing so close she could feel the deep breath he took before answering her.

"It is, aside from some photos. She updates the photos as I grow."

Neville didn't need to tell her who "she" was. Graces fought the tears prickling in her eyes. It was one thing to know about a mother's grief at losing their child, it was another to be this close to the pain. Augusta Longbottom's pain was so beautifully displayed in front of her that she needed a moment to gather herself before entering the threshold.

"This isn't a house," Graces whispered, moving her hands closer to her. "It's your grandmother's prayer."

She looked back at Neville leaning against a wall, surveying the living room.

"Some prayers are never answered."

"They're answered," Graces said tightly, remembering her own mother's words. "Always answered. Sometimes yes. Sometimes "wait" and sometimes no. Prayers aren't wishes to be fulfilled," she quoted somberly.

"They might as well be," Neville murmured bitterly.

"The gods have reasonings for their choosing."

Graces didn't miss the unconvinced nod or the disbelieving look in Neville's eyes as he continued to survey the room.

"I wish people appreciated what was in front of them, what they knew to be real and true, beauty that's everyday and feeding their souls. People don't stop to notice all the details of a forest, they just appreciate the green. They don't know what plant is creating that refreshing smell, what the soil beneath their feet accomplished. They only notice the mighty oak. Why do we need more than what's in front of us?"

Graces moved forward and placed her hand on the other boys chest, feeling his heart beating against her palm.

"Does it hurt very much?" she asked, quietly, moving her silver eyes to his.

"It doesn't hurt at all."

"I don't believe that. I believe it hurts so badly you bury it deep inside to the point it feels like hot iron against your heart, and after so long feeling it the pain just turns to anger." Neville looked down at her stone-faced. "That's why we can't ever talk about it without you becoming angry."

"Am I getting angry?" Neville asked timidly, moving his hand to hers over his chest.

"You are."

"I'm sorry."

"There's no need," Graces comforted, leaning her head against his chest. "You can feel whatever you need to feel with me, Neville. If you want to be angry, be angry. If you need to be sad, be sad. I'm here either way. Gods above and below know you have weathered my fury and tears."

Neville stared at her for a moment before leaning down and kissing her. He still kept her hand in his, pressed to his heart and they stayed in that moment for a little while longer.

"This is the most you can do, isn't it?" she whispered, realizing that what Neville had told her that night under the stars was the most she would probably ever hear from him. That he had taken her here, because he wanted to share with her what his mouth wouldn't allow him to.

"Is that okay?" Neville asked somberly.

"Of course it's okay," she said softly, moving her hands so they cupped his face. So long ago he had promised to divulge more about himself, he had promised it back in the bar and then he tried to talk to her about his parents and he couldn't. And now she was here. "You always keep your promises, don't you?"

"I try to."

"I don't need you to actually speak about it," Graces whispered, embracing him the way she suspected he needed to be embraced. "Words are just noise anyways."

Neville pulled away and looked at her, his eyes bright as he remembered who said those words first and on what occasion. Something about the moment seemed to change and Graces found herself looking away, scared of what she saw in Neville's eyes, of what she was feeling in her heart.

"Feel free to look around," Neville murmured, pulling away and kissing her hand affectionately. "Everything is technically mine anyways, so don't be shy. I'll be in the kitchen."

She nodded and went away, looking back to see Neville disappear from the living area. She took her time, allowing for him to have some privacy and allowing herself to really take in what was around her.

She could hear Neville knocking things around in the kitchen as she moved about the three rooms. At first she felt as though she was disturbing something sacred, but after a while it wasn't as intimidating. She suspected Neville cursing every once in awhile aided in that transition.

It was still sad, though. She looked at these walls covered with pictures of Neville growing up and they felt so empty. None of these happy memories took place in this home like they were supposed to. The bedroom that was designed for Neville wasn't really his. He didn't wake up in that bed Christmas morning or run down these halls as a toddler. There were no markings on the floors that came from a home being lived in. It was a home that could have held all the warmth and love of a family, but was deprived of its opportunity.

At the end of her tour she found herself back in Alice and Frank's bedroom. Their nightstands were ordinary, covered with books and parchment. Frank apparently kept parchment and a quill nearby in case something came to him about a case, and Alice had a stack of books by her bed, mostly romance with a few crime mixed in. Graces opened one of the books to where she had left off. Four chapters from the ending.

Graces placed the book down gently with the same thought echoing in her head. They could have had such quiet, simple lives and they gave it up. They gave him up, she thought sadly, picking up an old picture of Neville and walking to the kitchen.

"You were a cute little one," she teased, holding the photo of Neville at age four or five. "You look amused here."

"My grandfather probably played some sort of prank on my uncle or gran, or maybe my uncle and grandfather played a prank on my gran together. Who knows. I always enjoyed their games," Neville laughed, taking the picture and looking at it.

"Is this your grandfather?" Graces asked, pointing to a photo outside in the hall.

"It is," Neville smiled proudly.

"He seems like a grand fellow to be around."

"Oh, he was. He was a life-of-the-party kind of guy, very charming too, which is how he got my gran," Neville grinned. "My grandmother is a very proper witch, as I'm sure you have noticed. My grandfather saw her one night at a fancy party and he, of course, was surrounded by an assortment of people. He was very charismatic and funny, people liked him. Anyways, he saw my grandmother and he just knew she was it. He went over and introduced himself and then maybe five minutes later asked her out. My gran, my grandfather insists, was completely smitten, but her breeding wouldn't just let her say yes. So instead she reprimanded him for being forward."

"What did he say to that?"

"Great, I will pick you up at 7 tomorrow."

'Oh Merlin," Graces giggled. "Did she go on the date?"

"She did. My grandfather said she just didn't know how to say yes, so he said it for her. He got there at seven and she was ready, with her cousin of course. Like I said, she was very proper."

"But he made her laugh. Not many people can make my grandmother laugh, and he made her laugh every single day. I'm told my father was a more toned down version of him, a good mix of my grandmother and grandfather."

Graces could believe that. Her mother had told her when going over the Longbottom family that Frank Longbottom was very respected, charismatic, bright and iron willed. He could have easily gone into politics. Graces now knew why he didn't. He was too Gryffindor. He didn't think like a Slytherin: put yourself in politics to help people. He put himself on the front lines. Later he may have thought he earned a place in the Ministry, but he clearly didn't think of it for himself right away.

She looked up at Neville. He was too Gryffindor too.

"I like the cottage," Graces commented, wanting to keep her thoughts distanced from Neville's own ill-placed bravery. "It's very… cozy."

"Is that your polite way of saying small, Malfoy?"

"I said cozy, Longbottom. Don't put words in my mouth. Did your parents not plan on more children?"

"What makes you ask that?"

"Only two bedrooms, one theirs, another yours and an office."

"I don't think my father was able to afford anything else when they got married. Like I said, Longbottom tradition is you buy a house for your new bride and also I was a happy accident." Neville revealed, his cheeks reddening a bit at the confession.

"Were you? Your mother wasn't on the potion?"

"Story for another time," Neville said, moving to the stove where he was apparently cooking some sort of stew.

"You're cooking?" Graces asked, startled.

"I am. I thought it would be nice to make you dinner."

"I didn't know you could cook."

"I didn't have many friends growing up and most of the time I played with our house elves. When you grow up playing with house elves you learn to cook. This is apparently good fun in their books."

"Are you good at cooking?"

"No," Neville laughed. "I'm very poor at it usually. I always forget ingredients, or how much time is left. BUT I am very good at making this stew. I think it's cause it's mostly veggies and herbs. Both things I take pride in growing myself."

Graces leaned against the counter and watched as Neville stirred in some of the herbs he was just boasting about.

"Is stew a pauper's dish?" Neville asked, his eyes looking over to her from the side.

"Don't be an ass, Longbottom. I believe we are having a grand time."

"Is this the best date you've ever been on?"

"Time will tell," Graces replied cheekily, leaning against the counter.

Neville spooned a healthy portion of stew into two bowls and repeated her words with a pitch she was certain he thought matched her own. Graces giggled at his antics and was delighted that Neville winked at her, before proclaiming dinner was served.

The stew was surprisingly rich in flavor and Graces did not do a good job at hiding her surprise at the delicious taste and she flushed as Neville clearly noticed.

"I had help," Neville explained, reading her mind. "I asked one of our house elves to get this started for me."

"Did they ask what for?" Graces tried to keep her voice steady and off handed, but Neville saw straight through it.

"Strict orders were given to say absolutely nothing, but I did confess it was for a date."

Graces took another mouthful of stew and thought about how she felt on that matter.

"He was pretty happy for me," Neville said quietly. "Fennel. That's who I told."

"He's happy because your family needs an heir," Graces reminded flatly. "He doesn't realize you will get no heir from me."

"I don't think he feels that way." Neville chuckled. "He asked if I was seeing a wizard."

Graces almost dropped her spoon. "He did not."

"Yeah, apparently there is some question on my preference."

"I wonder why that is."

"I probably shouldn't have talked so much about Harry my first, second, third and fourth year." Neville laughed, clearly not bothered by what the elves thought.

Graces snorted. "My, my, what do people think of my brother then? I guarantee he spoke more about Harry than you. We once made a drinking game of it, me and some of the other Slytherins. That was not a good night." Graces cringed, still remembering how sick she had made herself.

They shared a good laugh before Neville excused himself for a moment. When he returned he had a very fine bottle of firewhisky in hand.

"Care for a drink?"

"Please!"

Neville poured them each a very generous glass, before he sat back down and continued eating. It was good whisky, the kind her father would have stashed in his office, not the kind of thing she ever thought she would be eating with a stew. Or that Neville would buy. Suddenly, a thought came to her.

"Is this your father's whisky?"

"Technically it's mine now. And it's such a shame to see it just sitting in a drawer. Besides, what kind of son would I be if I didn't steal my father's good whisky?"

It took Graces a moment to see the humor in Neville's words, but soon she was roaring with laughter.

"You know, you're pretty twisted, Longbottom. One minute you're this wholesome bloke, and the next you say something like that."

"I think you're just rubbing off on me," Neville grinned, taking a long sip of his drink and then laughing a little into his cup in a way that told Graces that he had found something else humorous with his words, something she was sure was inappropriate and sexual in nature.

"Don't be crude."

"I didn't say anything."

"You thought it."

"Out of my head, Malfoy," Neville ordered, smiling despite himself.

Graces bit her lip to keep from laughing.

"Think about it all you like, Longbottom. That's as far as you will actually get. I don't sleep with men on the first date."

Neville paused in his drinking. "Are you telling me I went to all this work for nothing, Malfoy?"

"Afraid so," Graces sang.

"Well, then I guess this date is over. Back to the castle we go."

Graces giggled as Neville stood up from the table. Neville sent her a sheepish grin and picked up the pot of the stove. "More stew?"

"I'm fine," she said, looking around the kitchen.

"You said before you wouldn't want to live here after graduation, but it seems very appropriate for you: the style of the house, the village around it, the field. I think you could be happy here, at ease even. It seems like such a waste for it to become a—" Graces stopped short, realizing how insensitive her words were about to be.

"A tomb," Neville finished, amused. "There are other properties where I could live." He shrugged. "I think it would be inappropriate for me to live here anyways. As you can see, my grandmother keeps it very well kept in case."

Graces fell silent for a moment and debated whether she should ask the question on her mind.

"Is there really no hope?" she asked with a sinking feeling.

"None."

"Even- even with the new healer… and new surroundings?" Graces pressed timidly, knowing she was already treading on thin ice with this conversation.

"Even with," Neville confirmed, reaching over and taking her hand, as though she were the one who needed comfort.

"How do you know, though? I mean, maybe—"

"Graces." His voice was so gentle. So sympathetic and understanding and yet it carried a weight she herself was unsure was bearable. "I know."

Neville took a deep breath and drained the drink by his side and poured himself another.

"I was told, recently, by the amazing healer your money allowed St. Mungo's to obtain, that there was no hope. We've always been told this… but the new healer was more—" Neville searched for a word. "—detailed," he settled cautiously. "In her words, there is no hope. We can only make my mother comfortable."

"And your father?"

"His comfort has already come. He's already dead. My gran just insists on keeping his body alive."

Graces swallowed uncomfortably, before apologizing meekly.

"Nothing to be sorry for," Neville insisted, brushing away her words and feigning disinterest.

Graces tried to imagine what it was like for Frank Longbottom. She wanted to ask Neville more, but she also didn't want to ruin such a beautiful night.

"I'll let you know when I've had enough."

She looked up to see Neville leaning in his chair, the glass of whisky being held between his hands.

"I meant what I said. This is enough, there is no need to open your wounds."

"And yet I can see a million questions on your face."

"I just want to understand."

"Understand how I feel?"

"No, I don't believe even you understand all that you feel. I just want to understand what happened. You said there was no hope, but I don't have any good idea of what is wrong with them."

Neville sat quietly for a few moments. Graces wondered if he was thinking about how to not answer her. In the back of her mind she knew that this topic should be left to die. It would be better for her and possibly even Neville to just pretend that his parents were dead and go about their lives, but she couldn't bring herself to do that. She felt as though this was something so important in Neville's life and she wanted to know about it.

"My father is only living because we keep him living," Neville said quietly, his gentle voice breaking the silence around them. "He just lies there. He doesn't feed himself or anything. He is kept alive because my grandmother—well, no, I suppose it isn't fair now to allow her all of that blame. I am his son. I could choose to stop this. He is alive because we have requested he be kept that way." Graces stared up at Neville sadly and he read the question in her eyes. "I don't think he would have wanted that, but it's a comfort for my grandmother to not place her only child in the ground. He's not there. His soul, I imagine, has long left his body. If his body is just a shell, then what's the harm in allowing my poor grandmother some peace and comfort? If I was in that state and it gave someone peace to have me around I would be fine with that."

"You don't think it would be best to put him to rest and force her to face the truth?"

Neville was silent for a few moments. "Do you remember when Harry brought Cedric's body back?" Graces nodded. "When I think about ending my father's life I remember Cedric's father screaming 'My boy. My boy. Not my boy.' again and again, holding Cedric's lifeless body and sobbing. I remember his mother being too beyond grief for tears and then at his funeral just breaking."

"You went to his funeral?"

"Yeah. His father was tearful the whole time and his mother was just… I don't know. It was like she knew what was happening but it hadn't hit her yet. Then when they began lowering the casket in the ground she just snapped. She was on her feet trying to stop them, hysterical. Cedric's dad got up and held her and she just dropped to her knees weeping, clinging to him like if he let her go she would die too."

Neville raised his eyes and met hers. "I couldn't do that to my gran."

Suddenly Graces felt like the stew she ate was rocks in her stomach.

"My mother—" Neville continued with a deep sigh "—is like a child, a very dangerous child."

"What do you mean?"

"She is a child in mind, but in power, in strength, she's still a full grown witch who was trained as an auror and is traumatized to the point where she doesn't know her own name."

Graces was silent for a moment, before asking quietly. "Did she ever hurt you?"

"Yes."

"Did she realize what she did?"

"No."

"Did she hurt you badly?"

Neville suffered himself to answer. "In my heart more than my body."

"How?"

She had gone one question too much and she could see it. Neville examined his glass for a moment before downing its contents.

"I was very young and I suppose she was intrigued with my face. I believe I've mentioned that before, she would like to examine me. Anyways, my gran had left us for a moment to speak to a healer and she was just playing with my hair, touching my lips, things of that nature, while I played with some toy or another on the ground. I don't remember why, but for the first time I was growing irritated with her. I didn't want her to play with my hair anymore, so whipped my face away. When she kept touching me I was defiant and pushed her hands away. When she still continued I shouted at her to stop and shoved her." Neville sat in his memories. "She struck me. Clear across the face. I had never once been hit before that and obviously I cried. Cried loudly. Which bothered her, because then the next thing I knew she was covering my mouth with her hands trying to silence me. I remember her nails digging into my skin and not being able to breathe. And then I remember waking up in a healer's arms and shouting continuing down a hall. She had never really hurt me before that… maybe pulled my hair too much or was a little too rough, but that was… different. She would have killed me and never known what she had done," Neville finished sadly. "She had had episodes with me before. I believe I told you about that when we were star gazing, but usually she would end up harming herself, not me."

Graces could feel her heart pounding in her chest, the color in her face had long drained away.

"What did your gran do?"

Neville took another sip of his drink. "She cried. She cried and held me and promised that my mother didn't mean it."

"It was the moment I realized that my mother didn't love me. She didn't even know I was her son."

Silence stretched from expected to uncomfortable and she turned away quickly as Neville embarrassedly rubbed at his eyes. Silently, she poured him another drink and pushed the glass across the table. Neville took a bracing breath before downing the drink in one motion.

"I really am a sap, aren't I," he said with a brittle laugh.

"It's been months of me telling you this and you just now are realizing?" she replied, tossing Neville a grin across the table. Neville's lips twitched, but didn't rise at her banter. She wanted to go to him, but her body felt weighted to the chair. Her throat was growing more raw by the second and no amount of drink could save her from the discomfort.

"My gran—" Neville began with measured words, "—and my grandfather took me out for the day after. We went to the theatre I took you to earlier, my gran held me on her lap the whole time and was nothing but affectionate, and later we met my uncle in the same pub. It was like they thought if they made the rest of the day wonderful and special I would forget that my mother almost killed me."

"Did you understand it at the time?"

"I understood enough of it. And I understood that my grandparents wanted to make me feel better and that my grandmother didn't want to answer my questions about it."

Graces bit her lip and fiddled with the rim of her glass. "When-when you found out fourth year that Moody wasn't Moody, but Barty Crouch Jr., how did you feel?"

She could feel Neville's weighty stare on her, but it took a solid minute before she could bring herself to look up from the amber liquid.

Neville stiffened and said in almost a whisper. "No one's ever asked me that."

"You took a liking to him," Graces murmured. "I always wondered how you felt when you discovered who he was."

Neville cleared his throat with practiced decorum after he had thought for a moment. "Angry, betrayed… sick… stupid." He fell silent again and she could see the battle he was fighting within himself not to cry. "Violated."

"Violated?"

"He knew what he was doing when he tortured that spider in front of me. He-he took me to his office and talked to me about my parents. He talked to me like he knew them, like he cared, made me feel safe. He made me feel safe enough to talk about—" Neville stopped short and he didn't need to tell her that he had enough, she knew and before the first tear could fall she had him in her arms and didn't flinch when he yanked her down on his lap and buried his face in side of her neck.

No other tears came though. His breath was heavy and fast on her skin, making it clammy and hot, but she didn't move away. She traced lace patterns in his hair and said nothing. She was there and she had a feeling that was all Neville wanted, so she held him and did nothing but be there until his breathing regulated and his grip on her eased.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, still hiding in her neck and hair. "I wanted tonight to be—"

"It is," she promised, kissing him gently and allowing her hands to wander along his neck. "It is."

He was looking at her again in that way that scared her and excited her all at once. Her breath caught as his fingers traced up her arms to her collar.

"Can we go back now?" he asked, his voice soft and tired. Graces nodded and laid against Neville's chest as he took of his watch. "We should stand. I think if we portkey back sitting we will be very sorry."

"Will you carry me?" she asked, not willing to give up Neville's arms around her. She was sure she heard Neville say something about spoiled and Malfoy under his breath, but his protests weren't sincere, so she kept her eyes closed and enjoyed his chest against her cheek.

"You still need to touch the watch," he whispered, keeping the quiet as she closed her eyes. She smiled and did as instructed. In the back of her mind she realized that Neville was probably going to drop her or land on her at their arrival, but she didn't care too much about it. And in the end her small worry proved for naught. He landed and barely jostled her.

She kept her eyes closed as Neville tucked her into the bed, gently removing her shoes and sliding her feet into the sheets.

"Come lay down," Graces ordered, already missing the warmth from his body. He obeyed and she moved into him, deciding silently that no one could smell as good as Neville. "I love these sheets," Graces yawned, snuggling deeper in the thick layer of blankets.

"Tell me about your home," Neville whispered, his hand playing with her leg that was thrown over his.

"The manor?"

Neville hummed an agreement.

"It's beautiful," Graces sighed. "My mother made it beautiful. It used to be dark and ominous, but my mother made it warm. My mother can do that. She has this touch. It's more than a good eye for design. She knows how to make something warm while still allowing it to be what it is."

"Like my father," Graces added helpfully. "My mother made my father into a father worthy of her children just as she made the Malfoy manor a home and not just a display of wealth."

"She changes the paintings of family members in the hall. When Draco and I were little she chose the paintings of family members that loved and adored children. When we got older she chose the ones that enjoyed grace and beauty. I remember walking down the halls from my room one morning when I was thirteen and seeing different paintings. All of different family members long gone, but these ones weren't reminding me to wear a coat to go out, or laughing at my excitement for my father being home they all just looked at me and nodded with this prideful approval. It made me feel… proud. I was proud and I remember feeling like a woman. I straightened my posture more and tilted my chin up and my mother must have known. She just knew to do that."

"My home is a window into my mother's heart. It's quiet and comforting. It's like living in your mother's love. She is all around. And the grounds—" Graces breathed. "It's like living in her spirit. Flowers and peacocks. Walking paths for thinking, swimming holes for playing, gardens of love. And the gardens must be love. I've never been in a field more romantic. It makes you ache to be kissed. I would go and read the silliest girlish books in those fields and dream of the day I would marry and fall in love."

"The grounds are my favorite part of the manor. I spent so much time on the grounds. Our mother was always taking us outside to play. And when spring came she would run around with us in the fields when we were very small, helping us pick flowers and make crowns. Oh and when it rained sometimes she would take out in one of our tents that we take to Quidditch World Cups and sit us on her lap and read to us in those fields so we could smell the flowers and earth. We would just be lazy, all cozy in the covers."

"My mother is a wonderful woman that you and the rest of the world shall never know," Graces grinned. "She only shows herself to those she loves. My father shows himself more than my mother does, and that says something."

"She's simpler than anyone I know. She just wants her family. My mother wants for nothing else. It's amazing to be loved like that, to live your life knowing you are someone's life. Draco and I are our mother's heart and soul. And my mother is… my mother is my home. The walls that surround me aren't walls really, they are my mother. The manor is my mother and my mother is home and I—I miss her greatly."

Neville reached out and brushed away her hair. "You sound like your mother."

"Is that a good thing?"

"I think so. It's- it's one of the things that draws me to you. I see how you love your brother, how you love Thomas. It's—I don't know. It keeps me up at night sometimes. I know my uncle and gran love me. They love me more than anything in this world and the next, but… they love differently than you. I don't know or really understand it. I just see you with them or just talking about them and I wish I had something like that."

Neville blushed and looked down for a moment before apologizing, clearly embarrassed of his admission. "A bit too much to drink, I suppose."

She could scarcely breathe. The shyness that came to her during such intimate moments began to creep up on her. She pushed her fear down, though, and reached out a hand to touch his face. She could smell the whisky on his breath and feel the heat of his skin climbing as his brown eyes stared at her intently. She kissed him first, gentle, but with obvious intention.

He seemed a bit surprised at first, but the surprise quickly disappeared. It felt different than it did before. Better than before, though none of his actions were changing. He trailed gentle kisses down her neck as her hands pulled his shirt loose at the waist and ran up over his chest. He shuddered under her touch and looked at her like he always did. Like he couldn't believe she wanted to touch him.

He really was still so shy and unsure, despite their growth together and she could always see that when they made love. Maybe it was the vulnerability of it all, or maybe it was that after so many months of this he still had doubts.

"Neville," she breathed, lightheaded and feverish. "Please touch me."

Neville groaned at just the thought. He had wanted to touch her all day. His mind had been wandering in fantasies of her skin and touch. He moved his hand to her leg, appreciating every curve of muscle and the smooth skin that only he was allowed to know. She kissed him harder, so passionately he was pulsating for more and her hips were so close to his that there was no way she didn't know that.

He refused to rush though. They had all night and he was going to enjoy every second of it. By the time he was at her hips she was taut with need and her breath had turned short and heated. He slid the tiny laced cloth down to her knees and teased his way back up, watching her with piqued interest as he slowly brought his hand between her legs.

Neville swore when his fingers met her and groaned as the blonde pressed him to her.

"I thought it was obvious I wanted you," Graces teased, her voice tickling his ears.

"I didn't know that much. I haven't even touched you really."

"You almost sound disappointed," Graces laughed, her lips taunting the sensitive spot below his ear.

He had had plans. He was going to satisfy her first, watch her wither and writhe as he touched her. Tease her with his fingers while he enjoyed every gasp and moan until she was trembling around him and then after he was going to have her for himself. Have her while she was still sensitive and swollen, heightening every move he made in her. Now he doubted he could bring himself to wait at all.

"Relax," she whispered, gently pushing him to lie on the bed. Confidently she moved on top of him and began unbuckling his belt. His heart pounded in his chest with ever clink of the metal and he about died as she brought her hand around him and guided him into the slippery cleft between her legs.

Graces seemed to know not to move until he adjusted to the sensation and his face flushed slightly.

"You know I always enjoy the noise you make," she whispered, lowering herself down so that he was tented in her hair. Neville raised an eyebrow extending the question. He was pretty sure he made very little to no noise. Graces seemed to be the more louder of the two. Graces giggled at his confusion. "You make this noise in your throat. It's sexy. Kind of like a grunt only lower and more airy. I like it."

Neville chuckled at the confession, thinking of the noises she made that he particularly enjoyed.

"You know I can think of a few noises I enjoy hearing from you," he grinned, lifting his hips up slightly causing Graces to bite her lower lip in that way that drove him mad with need.

She was everything to him. She truly was, he leaned up and kissed her in ways that he hoped told her that. Every touch and caress he made sure was gentle and soothing. He was at the point where he could easily get carried away and this would be nothing more than a good romp in bed, but he hated to end the date like that. So he was tender with her, tender with her to the point where he was trembling from the self control he was utilizing. He moved his hands to the buttons of her dress, slowly undoing them to reveal the porcelain skin beneath, when she stopped him after the first five.

They were both breathless and panting. Graces was holding his hand against her torso and she had become stiff as a board.

"I just want to feel pretty," she said tightly.

His heart sank at her words. "Oh, Graces, you are pretty. You're more than pretty. You are breathtaking." He kissed the base of her throat, whispering to her all the things he admired about her. Her soft skin, her hair. He brought his hand to her shoulders and slipped off the straps to her dress, careful not to let the dress fall down lower on her torso than it had to and rolled her over so she was now beneath him.

He kissed her exposed collar, reveling in how soft her skin was against his lips and groaning as she tightened around him and moaned softly. He wanted her to believe him, to know what he said was true and his kisses grew hot, hungry demanding with each passing second. He wound his hands in her hair and claimed her mouth for his own.

"I love you," he breathed, unable to hold it in when she was kissing him like that and moving her hips in that motion that made him grit his teeth. She paused, but he didn't stop. "I love you," he repeated, his breath tickling her collar. "I know you don't believe me, and I understand you don't feel the same, but please let me say it. Let me tell you it. Just for tonight," he begged, bringing his lips to hers and kissing her. "Just for this."

She stared at him for a few moments. Her face soft and unsure, not hard and disapproving like before when he had confessed his feelings. She brought her hand to his lips and tracing their shape thoughtfully. He kissed her fingers as they lingered, awakening her from her thoughts so she was meeting his eyes.

She kissed him slowly, her hands winding in his hair like his were in hers and he felt himself pulled down closer to her so close that he couldn't make out her eyes anymore. He could tell she was scared, though. He felt her body trembling beneath him and she held him closer for comfort rather than eroticism. He didn't say a word, until she breathed he could.

And so he did. He told her he loved her again and again. Not stopping in his confession until they had both finished and were collapsed on the bed in eachother's arms breathless and covered in sweat. And even then he gathered her up and swore it one last time and to his great surprise she smiled softly and didn't turn away.

He wanted to ask her if she believed him, but he didn't want to spoil the night if she answered no, so instead he just laid there content to have her in his arms.

"I wish everyday could be like this," he sighed, knowing that tomorrow they would be back to their usual display.

Graces was silent for a long time, before sitting up and staring down at him.

"What if it could be?"

Neville frowned and didn't even know what to say. Graces took a deep breath and sat more upright in the bed, pulling the blankets around her like a shield.

"Neville," she began, her voice trembling. "Do you really love me?"

He didn't even have to think before abruptly replying he did.

"You could never love another? You're sure?"

"I'm sure," he swore. "My heart is yours."

Graces breathed some sigh of relief before wiping a tear away from her eye and looking at him miserably.

"Then take the mark."

And just like that his world crashed.

"You're a pureblood," Graces continued, her words fast and urgent. Like she believed he wouldn't hear her if she didn't speak quickly. "You're a pureblood and if you took the mark my family would not object to us being together. We could be together, Neville. Not just in secret, but out in public. You could meet my family, court me properly. We could have a real future, Neville. A real one... We could even get married," she added shyly. "Start a family of our own."

She said the last part so quietly he almost didn't hear her, but the statement had him awoken from his trance so that he could actually somewhat think.

"Do… do you want a future with me?" he asked hesitantly.

Graces flushed and shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know… I've never allowed myself to really think about it. I knew it wasn't possible, so I never—"

"That's not fair," Neville cursed. "You can't say all of that and then turn around and proclaim you don't know. What you're asking for is—"

"I know what I am asking for!"

"Then stop playing games with me, Graces and answer the damn question. Do you want a future with me?" Her lips tightened stubbornly, but Neville didn't stop demanding an answer, until finally she screamed out that she did.

"I do," she hiccuped, holding his hand tighter. "I do. I can't bare the thought of this being it, of you being with anyone else, and when I think about being with anyone else I want to die."

"Do you love me?"

"No," she whispered. "I want to," she swore, bringing her hand to his cheek. "And I will. I just—I can't. I can't without this. I need you to do this. Please, Neville. Please do this. For me. For us. For the life we could have together. I'm falling in love with you," she sobbed. "Every day I can feel my affections growing stronger and stronger. Please do this."

For five heart-pounding moments he didn't know what to say. He thought of the life she was offering him and it was everything he wanted, but then he thought of the world it would be in. The man he would be if he did such a thing. The friends he would betray.

"I can't."

It was the first time he ever hurt her, really hurt her, and he could see it in her eyes. Her hand dropped limply from his and she backed away from him with an expression he had never seen on her face before.

"I couldn't look myself in the mirror if I did," he rasped, his own tears burning his eyes.

"Then we won't have mirrors," she offered, her lips trembling.

Neville just shook his head. "Harry is my friend and—"

"Harry Potter does not care for you the way I care for you," Graces cut in. "He doesn't, Neville, and you know that. He's not going to be inviting you over for the summer, or for Christmas when you all are older. Don't give us up for Harry, because he certainly doesn't care for you the way I do. You owe him no loyalty."

Neville knew it to be true, and closed his eyes and turned his chin down.

"Neville," Graces continued, cradling him into her chest. "I swear for every person you lose I will give you another. You will lose Harry and I will give you Draco. Hermione for Blaise. Seamus for—"

"None of those people are going to want to be my friends, Graces."

"Then I will give you children, children who will adore you, children who will think you hung the moon and the stars in the sky."

Neville turned away and stood up from the bed, pulling his trousers up and pacing the room, aware that Graces too had gotten up.

"I don't want to live in that world," he proclaimed. "I don't want that to be the future of the wizarding world. I don't want to bow before that monster. You're right. I don't owe anyone my loyalty, but I owe myself. And I do not want to live in a world like the one the Dark Lord is going to create."

"That world is coming," Graces said. "Harry Potter is not going to defeat a powerful Dark Lord, Neville. He isn't. You do not have to die on a fool's errand."

"It's a belief," Neville whispered. "I would die for my beliefs."

"Is that what you want?" Graces asked, her voice pleading. "To die when you could have had a life with me? A life filled with family and endless love?"

"I can't hurt people."

"You wouldn't have to," Graces insisted. "I bet you would just have to give information. We don't have anyone even somewhat close to Harry. You could just—"

"No!"

Silence filled the room. He hadn't meant to lose his temper, but he couldn't keep it together any longer. He felt sick from his heart pounding so much and his head was heavy and there was a headache deep behind his eye. The world was spinning and she was talking a million miles a minute, weaving ideas in his head so beautifully that he couldn't even hold onto his own.

He had braced himself against the small desk in the room, his head hung low as she breathed in deeply. He felt her hands come to his shoulders and fought against the urge to cry.

"I'm offering you everything," she whispered, her voice and touch gentle. "My family, my friends—and yes, Neville you would have my friends as your own. With my name and good opinion no one would ever mock you again. You would have my fortune, a dowry so big it would make your family wealth the second richest. You could improve your own business, study around the world anything you wanted you could have."

"Are you trying to coax me with your dowry?" Neville laughed brittly, feeling dirty with just the thought. "Would you really want a husband that only married you for your dowry?"

"No, but if you don't agree I may very well have one that will." Neville tensed at her words, but didn't reply. "Graham doesn't love me," Graces whispered. "But if not you, then it will be him. Maybe not now, but eventually. He's a good man and he wouldn't mistreat me, but it's not what I want. I want you."

"The question is do you love me enough to save me from that life? To sacrifice your beliefs for the life you and I both want. Harry is not going to win, Neville. He's a child. You can't save him or any of the others on his side. But you could save me, maybe even my family if you make the right deal with the Dark Lord. If you choose me you could at least have some happiness." She turned his head so he was staring at her. "Harry has a whole army on his side. I don't. I need you," she sobbed. "Neville, I need you. Please, do this for me. Do this and I swear I will make it up to you every single day of our lives."

It was tempting. For a brief moment he wanted to agree, not for any other reason than he wondered if she was right. If he could somehow help her and Draco, but then he thought of all the other people in the world and felt sick.

"I am not taking the mark, Graces," he growled, pulling away from her. "Not now, not ever. No matter what you say or do, no matter how I feel about you I will not do that. I won't."

He expected her to scream to fight him on his decision, but instead he turned around to find her dressing to leave, packing her things too.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm leaving," she sniffed.

"Graces—"

"Get away from me," she demanded, dodging his hand. "I believed you," she whispered, her voice giving away her agony. "I actually believed you. My father warned me time and time again not to be one of those foolish girls that believed promises made in bed, but I actually believed you when you said you loved me."

"I do love you."

"No," Graces whispered shaking her and closing her eyes to hold back the tears. "You don't. If you loved me you would never sacrifice my life. Even if it was for the greater good. Goodbye, Neville."

Neville stood glued to the floor for a few moments before realization dawned on him and then he was sprinting out of the room and slamming the front door shut before Graces could leave.

"This is not over, Malfoy. Don't you dare think it is. We are not done. I am not done."

"Yes, we are."

"No we are not. You and I are not nearly done."

"I can't do this," Graces sobbed. "I can't. If you don't love me this needs to end."

"I do love you!" Neville stressed.

"If you love me then love me right. Love me with everything you have, your soul if need be. Love me right or wrong. Love me above all others. Love me to the point where nothing and no one else matters. Love me with the same devotion you would give to a God. Love me so much you would do wrong, just so you could be by my side. I'm not asking you to die for me, Neville. I'm asking you to live. Live and create a life by my side."

Neville's jaw tensed, but he kept his arm firmly on the door.

"Come back in. We can talk, we—"

"Will you do it?"

"No."

"Then there is nothing to talk about."

"There is plenty to talk about!" Neville exclaimed. "I just found out a few minutes ago you want a future. Courting, meeting family, marriage, kids! It's not fair for you to do this! Spring this on me and expect me to just act! You know most people discuss these things together! Damn it, Graces!" Neville pounded his fist into the door. "You never even asked me! You know I don't even know if I want kids! I certainly don't have experience with them, and let's face it it's not like I had a father of my own to know what to do."

"You had your grandfather, your uncle—"

"That's not the point, Graces. The point is you never even asked me. I'm sixteen! Getting married isn't exactly what sixteen year olds think about! You—"

"You said you loved me. Was that just an empty word to you? Does it just mean you enjoy spending time with me? Because to me love means so much more than that. You don't tell someone you love them unless you want a future with them. Unless your life isn't whole without them by your side. So how can you speak to me of love if you never thought of me in your future."

"You don't think I thought about you in my future," Neville spat, anger rising up in his words. "I have. I do! What you're suggesting is my fantasy. You my wife, wanting to mother my children, wanting to include me with your family, but when I thought of our reality I just hoped you would visit. Come to my office and ask about your children, pretend to be there solely to know how they were doing in my class. I imagined you wouldn't allow for us to talk about anything personal, but at least I would see you. I could see you and know that you were in my office because you missed me as much as I missed you."

"That would be enough for you?"

"It would have to be."

"It doesn't have to be. Neville, it could be something so different. I could be coming into your office to have lunch with my husband before taking our children out to Hogsmeade. We could—"

"At what cost," Neville said miserably.

"If you loved me no cost would be too great." And they were back to where they began.

"I'm leaving. I think you should take this time to think about what matters to you, because I don't plan on coming back to this. I'm falling in love with you, Neville. Love. And if this is the love you have to offer… I would rather know now and walk away. Because it will kill me later to love you and not be allowed to have you."

Graces reached for the door, but Neville kept his hand in place, a defeated look to him, but when he spoke his voice was strong.

"We are not done," he repeated. "You're hurt. And if we're being honest I'm hurt. But we are going to talk about this. When you're done being a prat we will talk about this. This future you want and—"

"We don't have a future."

"Yes, we do! We do," he repeated slamming his hand against the door "We just need to figure things out. The safe hou—"

"I am not going to a damn safe house. I am not going to be locked away like an animal! I am going to be a Death Eater. It's decided. I will be, I've already promised the Dark Lord my loyalty. I promised him so that he would spare Thomas and Octavian. Now the question is will you be there by my side. Do you have enough love for me to do as I have done?"

Neville's head was whirling.

"I'm not leaving, Longbottom. You are. Just as your parents left you. They didn't need to be aurors, they chose it. They chose it knowing they could be leaving you behind. Your mother at least could have stayed out of it all. My mother stayed out of everything for Draco and me. That's why you hurt, because you know it. Somewhere deep in your bones you can feel that abandonment. You've lived your whole life craving the love they didn't have for you. And now you're choosing to abandon me. Like father like son, I suppose."

He could feel his anger like a hot iron in his blood. He turned around and slammed his fist to the wall near them out of frustration. He heard the door open behind him as Graces took the opportunity to leave, but he grabbed her arm and yanked her back inside, releasing her immediately.

"My gods you are a vicious thing!" he swore, pressing his back firmly against the door so she knew he was not going to allow her to just walk out. "You knew exactly what to say and by gods you had no issue using it." Graces glared at him hatefully, but he didn't move. "You were right. I did feel that way and it wasn't until this moment that I realized that they could love me and do what they did."

"Because I do love you, Graces. I love you so much. Even now when I just want to shake you, I love you. I will love you for the rest of my life, but I can't be a Death Eater, Graces." Her jaw was tense and he knew she was very close to using her wand on him, but he didn't care. "I'm going to let you go. But don't think for one second this is over. We are not over," he repeated. "You are mine and I am yours whether you like it or not. We've tried this whole song and dance time and time again and you always come back and I always welcome you with open arms. And I guarantee that will happen again. And you are going to apologize for the things you said and I am going to forgive you, because at the end of the day we are supposed to be together and I can feel that in every bone in my body. So walk out, be angry, but don't you dare do anything stupid and rash, like agree to marry Montague. Because we are not over."

Graces moved forward and he allowed her to open the door slightly to leave. She stood there on the threshold for a few moments, before looking up at him tearfully.

"I'm sorry now, for what I said. But we are over. I won't come back to this." She leaned up and kissed him, taking him off his guard. "I hope you change your mind." And with that she slammed the door and was gone.

Neville stood there for a few moments before pacing across the room, his mind going a million miles an hour. He was so frustrated, hurt and confused, he ended up grabbing the vase of roses he had just gotten for Graces today and throwing them across the room at the door. Only to his utter surprise they didn't shatter against the wood, the vase shattered in the middle of the room and there was a surprised scream and thud against the carpet and Hermione Granger was half revealed knocked out among shards of glass.

So sorry for the lack of updating guys :( This rewrite really killed me. I hope the 42 pages makes up for it though! I won't be updating for the next three weeks for sure though. I will be out of town for two weeks, for my big wedding.