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 Aleah for reading it over! Also, thanks and welcome to Mdman1 who is now another one of my betas and helped to edit this chapter and pointed out some mistakes in the past few.
Special thanks to bageltiger, spannieren, blacklightningwolf, calhounariel97, Malfoy Mouth James-MMJ, A Week of Sundays, Hydro, anand891996, guest, trispectrum, Patrick, JustAnotherFairy, omgitsfranklin, noone297, mchurch1992, GoingClassic, Lil Miss Sunshine14, barby03, Superscarface83, snowflake2410, Risho, Guest, Amandalucia, MLGJessica, Char170217, Sparkels77, Guest, Poohdah7340, Blue Luver5000, AnnyJackson19, Guest, Mdman1, and PorcelainPuppetLady for the reviews!
Chapter 79
Hermione knew before she opened her eyes that she was lying on a bed. Her head ached from the blow she was beginning to remember and she groaned with the effort it took to sit up. She stilled at the sight of Neville at the bedside. For a brief moment she saw relief flash across his face, before it hardened and she was met with hostility.
"Talk."
It wasn't a request, it was an order, and judging by the look in Neville's eyes it was an order he was not going to allow her to refuse.
Hermione reached downward for where she thought her wand would be and froze at the emptiness in her pocket. Neville's jaw tensed at the action, and his nostrils flared slightly- clearly not at all happy that she would have used her wand against him- but he said nothing, and seemed to reign in whatever anger he felt at the moment, which she was sure must have been a lot. If the whites of his knuckles were any indication of his rage. Hermione examined the boy in front of her, suddenly very aware of how much he had filled out over the current school year and for the first time in her life she was frightened of him.
"Where's my wand?" Hermione demanded, trying to push down her fear so that it wouldn't show and doing a miserable job of it.
"Do you need it right now?" Neville challenged airily, reminding Hermione strongly of Draco.
"Give. Me. My. Wand."
"So you can hex me and go running off to tell anyone who will listen what you saw here tonight? No, I don't think so."
Hermione looked around and wondered if she could beat him to the door. If she shut the bedroom door and sprinted to-
"Godric-bloody-Gryffindor, Hermione," Neville cursed, his voice losing his calm restraint. "I'm not going to hurt you."
"Then give me my wand."
"You really believe I would hurt you?" Neville asked, astounded at the idea that she could think such a thing. "You really think me capable of hurting you?"
"I'm beginning to realize I don't know you as well as I thought I did."
"Why? Because I'm with Malfoy?"
"Because you've kept it a secret."
Neville was silent for a few moments, his breathing the only telltale sign of his anger. Hermione wondered if she was wrong, if she was being unfair, but at the same time she didn't feel comfortable sitting there on a bed, wounded and without her wand. Maybe all her near death experiences with Harry were catching up to her, maybe she was just paranoid. Either way she wanted her wand desperately.
"You are going to talk," Neville said slowly. "I want to know why you're here and how long you have been here. You are not leaving this room without talking to me and I swear to the gods I don't believe in, Hermione, if you try to leave without talking, or you lie, I won't hurt a single hair on your head, but I'll snap your wand in two."
A sharp pain hit Hermione in the stomach at Neville's words and the room started spinning slowly. She felt nauseous from the encounter and her fear now transferred from herself to her wand, which might as well be her third hand.
"I was here the whole time," she admitted, looking down and taking a few deep breaths to calm herself.
"The whole time? That being…"
"I've been following you since you left the common room this morning," Hermione said between her teeth, aware how deep her hole was getting. She nervously looked up at Neville through her hair. He paled at her confession, and now it seemed he was going to be the one to get sick.
"You—" He swallowed before starting again. "You were here, for everything… You—Did you follow us when we left?" A small nod and Neville was on his feet. Hermione jolted back, expecting to be struck, and thankful that—after a few moments of pacing—Neville's fist landed on the lamp beside him, shattering it before it even hit the floor.
His fist was dripping blood, but Neville seemed to either not notice or care for his injury. He paced the space in front of the bed, running his hands through his hair and muttering under his breath before every once in awhile kicking something nearby or slamming his fist into something else.
Hermione began to speak, but Neville held up his hand to silence her.
"Don't say a word," Neville growled, his whole body shaking with fury.
"I thought the whole point of me staying was to talk," Hermione quipped, unable to stop herself, her own anger and betrayal coming forward.
"And you will," Neville said between his teeth. "But right now, at this moment, I want to hurt you." Hermione's blood went cold and Neville stopped his pacing and braced himself against the bed, leaning forward and obviously trying to calm himself down. Hermione watched his struggle and sat quietly praying his anger didn't win out.
"Why?"
She swallowed, but no words came forward so she could answer.
"WHY!?"
Hermione let out a noise of surprise, but still couldn't manage words. Neville demanded an answer to his question again and again, until he was holding her by her shoulders and shaking her for the answer. She was scared and alone and she found herself in tears as she braced her own hands against his shoulders.
"Neville, please."
"Just tell me why! Why would you do this? Why did you follow me? Why would you stay?"
"You're hurting me," Hermione choked, her shoulders feeling as though they were being bruised under his fingers. Neville released her immediately and turned to the wall beside them, hiding his face in his arm as he sobbed himself against the wall.
She knew she could leave now, that Neville wouldn't try to stop her, but she stared at the boy in front of her. Crying into his arm, looking so hopeless and lost and forgot why she was frightened of him to begin with. She moved off the bed and tried to place her hand on his shoulder, but Neville moved away from her touch and kept his back turned to her.
"Do you have any idea how intimate tonight was for me?"
Hermione flushed remembering their interactions. "I didn't watch," she swore. "I-I heard, but I turned away. I didn't see anything."
Neville made a noise that sounded close to a laugh, but held no humor. "That should bother me, huh? It should bother me that you were here for that. That you know what I sound like when I'm enjoying her. Or that you know what she sounds like when she's enjoying me. It should bother me that you must have, at some point, seen me half naked and her for that matter too. That something that was always supposed to remain private and sacred between us you invaded. But it doesn't bother me, not the way it should at least. Because the only thing I can't stop thinking of was you were there on our date."
He turned around to face her, his eyes red from tears, but his face and posture strong.
"I never shared any of that with anyone," Neville said, his voice a few shades weaker. "No one. I said small things to Crouch. When I thought he was Moody, and that was difficult. It was difficult and all I said was that I hated seeing them in the hospital and asked if that made me a bad son. I asked him what it was like to be tortured and if they must have suffered greatly. Two things I revealed to him. Two. And it was hard for me then. It killed me when I knew who he really was. It made me never want to say a word again."
"And then she came around," Neville breathed. "She came and … and I knew I had to share more. That I needed to be open with someone. That I couldn't expect to have real intimacy with someone if they didn't know me and understand me. I knew I had to tell her more than I ever dared tell anyone before. So I tried to and I fucked it up again and again. And she was patient and didn't demand more, she waited for me to be able to. She never pressed me. She understood it was difficult and let me go at my own pace. She told me so much, she let me know so much about her and just accepted I couldn't talk about myself. I wanted to share with her though," Neville stressed. "I wanted to. Because she made me feel things I've never felt before and she deserved to know."
"You will never know how hard today was for me. Never. It was months of working up to. Months. I've never spoken with anyone that much about my parents. About my feelings. And it was hard. It was so bloody hard," Neville emphasized. "The only comfort I had during it was that it was her. That she wouldn't judge me and that if one person in the world should know how I felt and what I struggle with daily it should be the woman I'm in love with. I wanted to share myself with her. Not you."
"Neville, I don't think less of you. I understand why you—"
"That's not the point!" Neville interrupted impatiently. "I didn't choose to tell you any of that. I didn't want anyone knowing that stuff about me. And it wasn't just out of fear of rejection, I just didn't want people to know. You violated my privacy. You violated her privacy. Everything you heard and saw today was for her eyes and ears only. Not you. I never in a million years would have told you."
"Even after you saw my parents and we fought beside one another at the ministry. I didn't want to tell you. I never would have told you that. You know because you were spying on me."
"I was just worried about you," Hermione offered lamely. "I was worried about you, and you refused to talk to me about anything that has to do with her. And then I overheard the two of you in Herbology, and heard you ask her out for Valentine's Day and then I saw you two on Harry's map and you're so damn secretive! I knew you wouldn't talk to me about her so I did the only thing I could do. What was I supposed to do Neville? You won't talk to anyone about her and you've become so distant and strange this past year. I was worried about you. What should I have done?"
"Respected my privacy!" Neville bellowed. "I've been asking you to do that all year. All bloody year! I don't need you to worry about me!"
"I disagree."
Neville glared at her and waited for an explanation.
"I-I think I think she may be using you."
"Using me," Neville repeated.
"Yes… for information on Harry."
"She's not."
"Neville," Hermione began with practiced patience. "She just asked for you to take the Mark and suggested you offer to spy on Harry."
"Because she wants something more with me, and—"
"What if she doesn't? What if she's just using you? I mean... it's not like her family is opposed to the idea of using others for their own ends. I'm just worried about you. You care so much, Neville. So much, and what if she is using those feelings against you?"
"Using them against me," Neville echoed. "Using them against me how?"
"I don't know."
"Well you must have something in mind for you to say something," Neville accused angrily.
"I don't have anything in mind! I'm just saying what if."
"You sound like Harry," Neville said.
"I do not!" Hermione exclaimed. "I'm not being paranoid! I'm just telling you I think you need to question things more! What am I supposed to think, Neville? I told her you liked her and she seemed pleased to toy with your feelings. Then you ask her out and she's insulting towards you. Now she wants a future with you as long as you take the Mark? I'm just telling you what I'm seeing. And what I am seeing isn't love. It's manipulation and war games."
"You're wrong."
"You don't know her," Hermione pleaded miserably, thinking back to the horrific things Graces had said to her in the bathroom. "Trust me, Neville, you don't. I can't even bring myself to tell you what she's said to me. I know you think you love her, but if you had an idea of her capacity for cruelty you would think differently of her."
Neville's lips tightened into a thin line and his eyes diverted away from hers.
"You're not a witch," Neville breathed. "You may look like a flower, but in truth you're a weed. A weed that taints the bed it sets its roots in. And I can't wait till we weed you out like the parasite you are."
Neither Gryffindor seemed to be able to speak. Hermione's eyes followed Neville's despite them being diverted from her.
"She told you what she said to me and you stayed?"
Neville took a deep breath before looking up at her. "She didn't tell me, I was there."
Hermione's mouth opened, but no words came forth.
"She's not a bad person," Neville murmured. "She's just misguided. She doesn't know better."
"How can you make excuses for her? For that."
Neville chewed the inside of his lip for a few moments and Hermione wished he wouldn't say anything more, but he did.
"You don't know her. It's complicated."
"She thinks that I and people like me deserve to die, Neville. She said just a few minutes ago that she is going to be a Death Eater. She asked you to be a Death Eater and kill people like me for no other reason than our blood status and you're trying to say that in some way that's okay?"
"I am not saying that."
"Then what are you saying?" Hermione snarled, her heart pounding in her chest.
"I'm saying she's misguided," Neville shrugged, his face a sea of confusion. "I don't know how to explain it, but I know who she is and-and she isn't a bad person. I've seen enough to know she's not a bad person. She is just warped with these beliefs her parents instilled in her. She can't help that. She's… ignorant. But it's changing. Slowly but surely, it is."
"You think she's changing?"
"I know she is."
"So she doesn't believe that blood status matters," Hermione challenged.
Neville bit his lower lip for a moment. "I think she's questioning it."
There was another pregnant silence.
"She's going to be a Death Eater, Neville. So her beliefs must not be changing that much."
"She doesn't have a choice."
"We all have choices," Hermione reminded.
"She really doesn't believe she does."
"Why?"
Neville shook his head, not willing to tell her Graces' secrets. Hermione's nose flared in frustration.
"How can you be so blind?"
"I'm not blind. It's the opposite. I've seen more."
"You've seen what she's wanted you to see. She's a grand little actress, your girl," she said, rolling her eyes. Neville didn't rise to her challenge and instead just took a seat and waited for more beration. "You're not going to try and convince me otherwise?"
"I'm not going to waste my breath."
"Excuse me?"
"You're not going to believe me, so there's no point. And frankly, I refuse to divulge anything about her. I think her privacy has been invaded enough."
"She's manipulating you, Neville. Can't you see that?" Hermione pleaded, realizing she was pushing Neville further away. "She's using love and affection as a means to control you." Neville closed his eyes and rubbed at the bridge of his nose. "Neville, I need you to see this. I need you to at least acknowledge this." Hermione pulled his face so that he was forced to look at her. "Love is not something that has a check list. She's telling you she can't love you without you becoming a Death Eater, and that is not love, Neville. It does not work that way. Tell me you don't believe you have to do some set of tasks to be loved. She's trying to manipulate you, Neville. She's using love as a means of hurting you."
Neville brought his calloused hands to her wrists and gently held them there. Hermione, for a moment, believed that she had gotten through to him until he moved her hands away and sighed.
"She is trying to manipulate me," Neville sighed. "I'm not daft. She's definitely trying to bend me towards what she wants. But it's not for the reasons you think. She really does want that life with me and in her mind this is the only way we can have it." Hermione opened her mouth to argue, but Neville continued. "She's spoiled. Never in her life has she been told no. Everything she wanted she's been given, and she's ruthless. Gods be damned for the combination, but it is what it is. She's flawed beyond your imagination and just as beautiful. Right now she wants this from me and she is going to raise all seven hells to try to get what she wants, not caring that she is in so many ways burning us alive. Me as much as her. She'll come around though."
He said the last part more for himself than for Hermione. She didn't know what to say. He was so lost in Graces. There was no way she was going to be able to convince him of what she really was. Neville slowly reached over her and pulled out her wand from under the mattress. Hermione reached out to it and was about to take it away, when Neville folded his hand over hers and held her there.
"I'm in love with her. I love her more than I love anyone or anything in this world. She makes me feel alive and… brave. I wake up in the morning and I'm content. I don't feel alone anymore. That hollowness that was always in me is gone. For the first time in my life I am comfortable in my own skin. I have someone to talk to. She's the love of my life and she's my best friend. I understand your fear and trepidation regarding her, but please leave it alone." He released her hand and wand and sat back as she put it back in her coat. "I need you to promise me you won't tell a soul what you saw here tonight."
"Neville, I can't. I—"
"Hermione, I understand why you are worried, but I'm begging you to trust me."
"Neville, I still don't believe she's being sincere with you. You need people around you. She's isolated you this year and you need—"
"I need her," Neville cut in. "I can handle her hissy fit, Hermione. I need you to trust me."
Hermione shook her head, already sorry for what she had to do.
"Then I am going to take the Mark."
Her blood went cold and for five heart pounding moments she couldn't breathe.
"What?"
"If you tell anyone about us, whisper a hint about us or about what you heard tonight, I am going to take the Mark."
"How could you do that?"
"I love her. And if the world knew about us she would lose everything. Her family, her friends, her fortune. And Octavian and Thomas, who may as well be her own sons. I'm not going to allow her to lose everyone she loves because of me. It would kill her to lose Draco. It would literally kill her. If you tell anyone I will be forced to take the Mark. If I take the Mark people will accept her choice to be with me. If I don't her family will be forced to disown her and I'm not going to let that happen. I can tell her no now and let go of my happiness, but I can't allow her to lose all of hers."
"I think you're bluffing."
"I'm not."
"You would do that? You would spy on—"
"I'm not going to spy. I'll be very open about my decision. I'll make sure everyone knows what I did, what I am," Neville said tightly. "I'm begging you not to tell, Hermione. Just keep this to yourself. Please."
"I don't even know who you are anymore! How could you even consider this, Neville? How could you—"
"If you don't tell it won't be an issue."
"How can I keep this a secret!"
"Very easily," Neville replied, his voice growing cold. "If you don't—if you can't—you leave me no choice. I won't allow her to suffer because I couldn't protect her from my so-called friends. So here are your options, Hermione. Leave and not say a word, sparing me from a life I don't want to have. Or go and tell, forcing me to bow down and sacrifice my soul for the woman I love. It's no one's business anyways who I see."
"It is when the person you're seeing is trying to force you into taking the Mark!"
"I can handle that on my own."
"Can you? Can you really? Because from where I was standing it looked like you were having a difficult time saying no."
"But I did."
"For how long? How long can you take her withdrawal? If she refuses to speak to you till you do this how long can you-"
"She's throwing a fit. I guarantee she will be back here in a week. She's tried to break up before."
"This looked pretty final."
"It's not. She's just being a prat."
"Neville, what if she doesn't? What if she's serious? And you said yourself she's everything to you so—"
"I won't take the Mark. I'll only be taking the Mark if you tell. You have my word."
Hermione bit her tongue and tried to keep the words she was thinking from bubbling up but it was a futile fight.
"The thing is Neville I don't know how much your word is worth." Neville's eyes narrowed, but he remained quiet. "You never mentioned to me that you had house elves. All those times I had talked with you regarding S.P.E.W. and—"
"And I politely listened."
"You joined!"
"To make you stop pestering me."
It took effort to keep her jaw from dropping. "You never even mentioned your family has them."
"It was not your business or concern."
"You keep slaves."
Neville's eyebrows raised, as though what she was saying was insane.
"I keep house elves. It's very different."
"How?"
"Would you say having a dog or cow was keeping slaves?"
"It's different."
"How so?" Neville asked, his arms folding in front of him.
"Elves are intelligent and they think the same as you and I. And—"
"They're like pets, Hermione. They have a purpose in our lives and we love them, but I would not go as far as to say they are the same."
"You require them to do manual labor for no pay."
"If I offered to pay them they would be offended."
"Why not set them free? If they choose to stay and continue to be with you. Fine, but if they leave—"
"If I set them free they would be a wreck. Do you seriously not understand how house elves work? If I set them free it would shame them and it would break their hearts. It's like kicking them out of the family."
"Make them understand they don't need to be your property to be a member of the family."
"That wouldn't work."
"Why not?"
"Because they wouldn't understand a word I was trying to tell them, they would just cry. They have the minds of children."
"They could understand it. If you—"
"You know what, I am not having this discussion with you. I refuse. They are my elves. I've known them my whole life, so I think I have a better idea of what they want and need than you who has known of their existence for merely a few years and whose interactions with them are maybe once in a few months!"
"I don't need to be around them to know it's wrong! It's wrong, Neville and I refuse to just drop the subject."
"Talk 'til you're blue in the face, I'm not getting rid of a single house elf."
"Setting free!" Hermione emphasized.
Neville folded his arms and sat silently, clearly closing the discussion.
"Set your elves free and I won't tell."
"You won't tell because if you tell I will take the Mark. There is no bargaining here, Hermione. I've laid out the stipulations. The choice is yours. My elves stay with me."
Hermione gripped her wand and reminded herself that this was Neville. Neville who had been her friend for years. Neville who comforted her when she was upset. Who asked her to get him more toothpaste, because he liked the taste. She stared at the man in front of her and tried to remember who he was, remember that he was still the same person who fought beside her at the ministry.
"You even sound like her now," she said tightly. Neville let out a sigh and leaned back in the chair. "If she really is so grand, Neville. If you really believe her to be a good person, then why not tell your friends?"
"Because she will be disowned," Neville reminded irritatedly. "Lose her family, friends and fortune."
"But no one would die," Hermione pressed. "Neville, she would lose all of that, but no one would die. If she's a Death Eater… people will die. At her hands. I realize it would be hard for her, but—"
"There is more to it," Neville interrupted, his face aging drastically as he hung his head. "I can't tell you what, but there is much more to it. She will not defy You Know Who. And, if we're being honest, I wouldn't want her to. She's made promises to him, and I've seen his cruelty."
"I love her and I want to protect her, and if you tell a soul there's only one way I know how to. So choose, Hermione. Will you keep my secret? I'm not asking you to hide a body. I'm just asking you not tell anyone who I am seeing."
"If we could just tell Harry then—"
"I am not telling Harry. Harry is the last person I would want knowing."
"He's your friend," Hermione implored.
"We're not even speaking at the moment," Neville reminded. "And, if we are being very honest, I don't believe we are that close anyways. I don't think I would really want to be discussing my love affairs with him if it was uncomplicated."
"She's using you. I know she is," Hermione whispered, more to herself than Neville who sat quietly and didn't say a word. "I hate that you're doing this to me. Forcing me into silence. Making me feel responsible for your choices."
"I hate that you invaded my privacy on one of the most intimate nights of my life," Neville replied coldly.
Hermione glared at Neville for what seemed like hours before asking how long this had been going on.
"A while."
"You said this was your first date."
"It was."
"So what was going on before?"
"That's none of your business."
"Were you sleeping with her?" Neville blushed under his collar, but remained stone faced as he repeated that it was not her concern. "Did she seduce you?"
"Merlin's beard, Hermione. Just drop it."
"I can't! Did she seduce you?"
"No."
"Oh so you seduced her?" Hermione scoffed, knowing Neville to be far too shy for such an action.
"Maybe I did," Neville snapped belligerently.
"I highly doubt that," said Hermione angrily. "Come on, Neville, think. Why would she—a girl whose father you imprisoned, a girl like Graces Malfoy who has tortured you for years—seduce you and continue to sleep with you for what months? And then—"
"She did not seduce me, and you know what if she did maybe it was because she, I don't know, fancied me?"
"Right," Hermione snorted. "She just opened her eyes one day and saw that you were the one. After over half a decade of calling you names and laughing with Pansy at you, your weight and your struggle in classes she suddenly thinks the world of you and goes to bed with you. No, you're right, Neville. She clearly fancies you. It's not at all for information, or to pull you towards her side of the war. Obviously she's in love. Oh wait, no. I'm sorry. I guess she's not in love because apparently she can only love you if you're branded with the same Mark as the people who destroyed your parents and then laughed about it. You sure know how to pick them, Neville."
She wasn't sure when she stood up, but she found herself towering over where Neville was seated, her breath ragged and short from her frustration. And she realized as soon as she really took in Neville that she had made a mistake. He glared up at her hatefully and with a chilling calm before standing up and forcing her to take a step away.
"Leave."
"What happened to wanting to talk?" Hermione challenged, her blood boiling from Neville's willful ignorance.
"We're done talking," Neville said, striding over to the bedroom door and holding it open. "Get out."
Hermione indignantly left the room, bristling at how Neville was following her out and ensuring she left the apartment as a whole. She yanked open the door and stepped out, turning back around to face Neville who stood in the doorway watching her.
"You see how wrong that is, don't you? Her saying that she could not love you unless you took the Mark? Her emotionally manipulating you so that you feel like you are the one in the wrong. It's- it's wrong, Neville, abusive even. Tell me you see that."
Neville's jaw tightened and he took a deep breath through his nose, before repeating for her to leave. Hermione didn't need to hear or say more. She realized that it was over. Neville didn't care what she had to say and she didn't care what he had to say either.
"And, Granger," Neville called out stopping her from moving further down the hall. "Don't say a word to Graces. Unlike me she will kill you. And at the moment I don't have the inclination to want to stop her."
Hermione stood in the hall for a long time after Neville slammed the door, terrified of both decisions before her.
sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss
"You need to make up with Neville."
"Good bloody morning to you too," Harry said, sitting up in the bed and rubbing his eyes.
"Now. Today. As soon as you see him."
Harry tried to process everything that Hermione was saying to him while at the same time convince his eyes to stay open.
"Can we talk about this later?"
"No. There is nothing to talk about. You're making up with him." Hermione started to walk away muttering something about 'another Pettigrew' and before she left the dorm completely she added. "And you're going to include him more!"
Harry groaned and rolled over to look over at Ron.
"Do you know what that was about?"
"No, but I wouldn't argue, mate. She seemed in a right state about it."
Harry groaned a bit and turned over to go back to sleep.
"I think you should anyways," Ron mumbled. "You threw your punches and now it's time to make up."
"That easy, huh?"
"Works for me and my brothers," Ron muttered turning back over in his bed and pulling the sheets above his hair.
Harry scowled and mimicked Ron's actions, deciding to think on it more in the morning when he had more of his mind to think with.
Thank you for reading! I wanted to update yesterday on Neville's birthday, but time got away from me. BUT updating on Harry and J.K Rowling's birthday isn't bad ;) I'm sure you're all busy reading the cursed child, but here's an update for when you finish and need another fix! Thanks for being so patient guys!