Insert usual disclaimer here :P
Author's note: A special thanks to my betas Aleah, Denari and Mdman1! You all seriously would enjoy this story less without them telling me things like "This doesn't make sense" "A monologue can't be this long" and "Dom… That's not a real word." They put up with a lot, not to mention remind me I should be writing! haha
Special thanks to Loosefur, calhounariel97, Nesha, anand891996, superscarface83, mavow1, Bharm, Malfoy Mouth James-MMJ, Guest, infinateconstellations, 1297, char170217, Blueluver5000, frankoceanwhy, PorcelainPuppetLady, trispectrum, gr8rockstarrox, stellaabigail1, Darktendencies, M and Nancyfor the reviews! I'm so glad everyone enjoyed the chapter!
Chapter 80
Neville sat on the edge of the bed staring at the gash running across his knuckles to the top of his wrist. He could probably heal it fine. It was deep, but he could almost certainly patch it up. The only downside of him patching it up was there would probably be a scar. Graces was much more talented in this area than he.
He closed his eyes at the thought and willed the sickness in his stomach to subside. She was just throwing a fit, he told himself, unwilling to allow himself to even consider the alternative. Still, he felt ill and there was a hole in his chest that felt as though it would swallow him up.
He reminded himself that this wasn't their first "break up" so to speak and that it always ended the same. She would be back. She would make promises that she would be better, and they would end up here. Neville sighed and flopped back on the bed. Two months was admittedly pretty good for the blonde, so in some ways she had done well. Neville let out a small chuckle that held no humor.
She wanted a life with him. Not just a serious relationship, an actual life. Marriage, kids… a whole lot of responsibility. He swallowed hard at the thought. Did he want that?
No.
Someday?
Maybe. Marriage, yes. Not now.
Neville nodded his head. Definitely not now. He loved her, and he wanted to make her happy but he didn't want to get married. He wanted to date, get to know one another so intimately that they knew all of each other's stories and no longer needed words to communicate how they felt. He wanted to graduate and get his own place, decorate it as he liked—which admittedly would be pretty terrible, just a lot of plants really. But he wanted to have that time to be a bachelor and have papers flooding his desk, barely any food in the fridge because he ate out most nights and spent most if not all of those nights taking Graces out and bringing her back to his place just to hear her complain about how awful it was and try to insist they stay at hers more often.
And then when they're spending so much time at one or the other's place to the point where it didn't make sense to live separately he wanted to move in together. By that time he probably could have scraped up enough money for a decent engagement ring and he could propose in some romantic fashion. Probably just in their living room since he hated people staring. She would insist on a big, grand engagement party and wedding and after they would just have some time to themselves. Just to be happy and content with one another. Obviously Draco would be around a lot, and hopefully after all that time he would at least tolerate Neville, maybe even like him.
He knew the issue of kids would at some point have to be addressed. Graces wanted kids. His gran wanted grandkids, and once their friends started having kids he knew that there would be a lot of pressure from both women for children. But he figured at that point maybe he would want them. He probably would have been around them a bit more often if their friends had them, and he may even want them at that point.
But he certainly didn't want them now. He honestly didn't even want to think of the possibility of children now.
He laid there quietly, pondering how long he wanted all that. He never really gave much thought to what he wanted with Graces future-wise, probably because he assumed she wanted nothing, but now that he knew she did want something he found himself really wanting the future he just thought up.
But that future didn't take the war into account. It didn't take into account the choices they both were about to make. The lives they were about to lead.
Neville stood up from the bed and put those thoughts to rest. He knew what he had to do in this war. He didn't want to think about the things Graces was going to do.
He rubbed his swollen, sleep-deprived eyes and picked up a jumper he wore a few days ago, not bothering to look at himself in the mirror. He needed some fresh air and something in his stomach. It was close to lunch time and he figured he could go to the greenhouse for an hour and grab a sandwich or something from the Great Hall before coming back to wait/brood.
He left his and Graces' tiny apartment, his mind thinking of her despite his need for a break. He was so deep in thought he didn't notice that Harry was coming down the hall towards him until the raven-haired boy called out his name.
He couldn't move. Harry was here, an area of the building that know one came to. He felt punched in the gut, Hermione must have told him. His heart was pounding in his throat and he felt the world move from under him.
"You okay?" Harry asked, moving forward and grabbing him by the arm to steady him. Neville jerked his arm away, but Harry held him firmer and insisted he take a seat on the ground. "You look like you're about to pass out. Just sit for a second."
"I'm fine."
"No offense, Neville, but you look very far from fine."
Neville pushed Harry aside and hurried down the hall, being sure to not look back. Nothing had ever felt so wrong. Months ago he was fighting alongside Harry, deciding to die for the cause, telling Harry to let him die and be tortured rather than to save him and give up the prophecy and now… now he was going to be—
"Nev, come on. I'm sorry! I came here to apologize!"
He stopped.
"What?"
"I'm sorry. I-I was out of line and I'm sorry."
He waited to hear more, but nothing more came.
"What did Hermione tell you?"
Harry looked taken aback for a second before saying nothing.
"Nothing?" Neville asked disbelieving.
Harry chewed the inside of his cheek for a moment before admitting that she had demanded he make things right between them.
"That's all she said? Just make things right?"
Harry shrugged.
"And she told you to come here?"
"Uh, no…" Harry held up his map. "This told me to come here. I checked the Greenhouse first, but you weren't there and when I couldn't find you I decided to just see where you were at." There was a pregnant silence around them for a few moments before Harry asked where they were.
"Old apartments for professors. I like to sleep here. It's quiet. I got the password during one of my detentions when I had to clean them."
"So you basically have your own room here?"
Neville shrugged, not really inclined to talk about it.
"Neville, come on. I'm trying here."
"I don't know what you want me to say."
"I don't know. That you're sorry too? That—"
"I'm not sorry, though."
"Then yell at me!"
Neville sighed. "I don't need to yell at you."
"Then what do you need? I want to put this behind us."
"It's not that simple. I can't just put this behind me," Neville said, angry at Harry for just thinking he could. "I can't just be okay with how you treated her, Harry. I can't. I'm not okay with you spying on her and her brother. And I hate that in your mind she and Draco are only Death Eaters and that's—"
"What am I supposed to think? How am I supposed to view them?"
Neville stared across the long hall at his friend and his heart grew so heavy with hurt he felt it would weigh him down to the stones beneath them.
"We're all just kids, Harry. They're kids."
"That doesn't mean that they—"
"No, it doesn't. You're right. And you may very well be right that they are Death Eaters, but once you start thinking like that, Harry, once you categorize people as good and evil and make the world black and white you forget all the other details of a person. And you forget things like the fact that Graces is just a teenage girl, and it makes you think it's okay to hurt her, to touch her in anger."
"I know I shouldn't have grabbed her, I know. But—"
"It's not that you grabbed her, Harry. It's that in your mind she is only one thing. The reason you grabbed her is because you don't see all the other things about her other than that one image. It's like how Death Eaters can hurt muggles because they don't see them as human."
Harry fell silent and Neville tried to regather his anger.
"I just don't understand it, Neville," Harry murmured quietly. "I mean, I understand the attraction, and I saw firsthand she could be charming, but she's… she's—"
"She's a spoiled, rotten brat with narcissistic tendencies and a temper to match that of her father."
"A bit more detailed than I was going to say, but yeah."
"She has a lot of good to her too," Neville whispered. "A lot of good."
"Neville, no offense, but you say that and never expand. Never. Tell me something, anything. Tell me a real story of why you feel that way."
Neville was unsure of what to say, most of the things he could tell Harry about Graces he wasn't able to tell. He couldn't tell her what she was like with him in private… or what cost she paid to ensure Thomas' safety.
"Do you want to know why I gave Thomas that child? Why I gave in when Graces asked?"
Harry shrugged, and Neville could tell from the way he avoided his eyes that Harry thought it was to win some affection, just as everyone else at the table had thought when Graham had revealed he had something to do with the child's placement.
"She wanted that child, actually wanted him. He was no burden in her mind. She wanted not just to take care of him, but take care of Thomas as well. She offered to drop out of school and raise him, did you know that? She told me that if I gave my grandmother's vote she would personally take care of that child. Raise him until Thomas was done with school. Who does that, Harry? Did you know the Malfoy's had no formal ties with the Higgs?
"Neville, I'm not dismissing what she did," Harry pointed out. "It was very kind. I'm not saying it wasn't I'm just saying—"
"Kind?" Neville repeated distastefully. "Kind? She was going to give up her youth, her education, her chances of becoming a healer and essentially her own future for him and an infant she barely knew. Kind doesn't even begin to cover it."
Harry didn't know what to say. Neville was right it was far more than kind, but he was having a hard time processing all this new information being thrown at him.
"She was so angry with me," Neville remembered, talking to himself more than Harry. "I believe I called her a child and told her to grow up. She's stubborn and damn her temper is biting, but I love that about her. I love that she feels so passionately. Even when she's angry, it's fascinating to see. Reason sinks away, morals sink away, she only goes off what she feels and she feels very deeply… Can you imagine being loved by someone like that?" Neville asked. "I can't."
Why are you telling me all this?" Harry asked heavily.
"Because—because she's not a bad person… Not really a good person either though. She's a mix. Lots of good, just as much bad. Maybe she will be a Death Eater, Harry. But she's also someone's daughter, Draco's sister, the Slytherin team's keeper, Thomas' friend and the godmother to a small baby who doesn't even know what he lost… Take away the war and look at her. Don't just look at what she may do, look at her. Put away what she had done to you and think of her as just a girl."
Harry was silent for a moment, before looking up at Neville with eyes that had seen too much for his young age.
"What if she hurts someone, Neville? What if she hurts someone and I could have prevented it? What if Draco hurts someone and I could have stopped him?" Neville didn't know what to say. It was a valid point and he had a sickening feeling that quite possibly someone was going to get hurt. "I don't have the privilege of being just a normal boy at this school, Neville. And I know you want to think of her as just a girl, but she's not. Just like I'm not just a boy."
There was a long pause that followed Harry's last statement before he continued. "And Katie still has not returned to school. And I know I have no proof, but I am sure Draco's responsible."
Neville looked down, embarrassed that he had forgotten about Katie Bell.
"Maybe you're right, Neville. Maybe she is a good person, but that doesn't mean she can't do horrible things. Good people can do terrible things."
"Yes, I know, but—" Neville stopped himself short. He felt like a child making irrational excuses. How could he tell Harry—Harry Potter of all people—that it wasn't that simple.
"Come on, let's get some air."
"I—"
"Neville, just shut up and walk with me."
He was uncomfortable and his stomach was turning and turning into every knot that must have existed, but he did as Harry requested and followed him out onto the grounds. His head was spinning with words, explanations, justifications and part of him just wanted to tell the truth, but he tightened his lips and waited for the boy next to him to say something.
"We can't continue fighting about the Malfoys."
"No, we can't," Neville agreed looking out at the lake. He bit the inside of his lip and debated whether or not to stay silent. "I don't think they have a choice, Harry."
"We all have choices. Sometimes the right one isn't easy, but it's a choice. You made choices, hard ones."
"The Higgs made a choice."
Harry looked up at Neville's words and the sandy-haired boy wiped at his eyes furiously, surprised at the emotion that statement brought.
"Neville, it's—"
"Just let up on them, Harry. Please. Be kind. Be understanding. Remember they're scared. They may not show it, but they're scared."
Harry stared at him, examining him from what felt like all angles, his green eyes as deep as the forest around them. "Do you know anything, Neville? Did she, ever, in all that time she tutored you, tell you anything?"
Neville opened his mouth and closed it. He couldn't betray her.
"She's scared. She didn't need to say anything for me to know that. She's scared."
"Of what, though?"
"I'm sure you can guess."
"How do you know she's scared."
"I know."
"How?"
"I just know!"
Harry cursed and looked like he wished he could strangle Neville, but instead turned and cursed again in the other direction. Neville too was trying to regain himself, frustrated by the secrecy that now was his life.
"You can just tell. If you actually look at her you can tell. She's beautiful, Harry, but look at her. Is her weight the same? Her eyes? Do you not see the darkened circles? The way she looks about in the hall, as though she suspects someone is watching her. The way she reaches for Draco's hand in a crowd. That's not reaching for a hand to be escorted, she wants the comfort. When did Draco and Graces ever display affection like that before? They would walk side by side, shoulder to shoulder, but look at them now. Merlin, Harry, have you noticed both of them aren't doing well this year in their classes? Graces, is doing better than Draco, but damn she sure has trouble with her wand work. She used to be brilliant and now... now it's not the same," Neville said venomously. "It's not. And damn the world for not paying attention as they sink away into hell."
"What do you expect me to do, Neville?" Harry asked dejectedly. "What do you want me to do?"
"I don't know… But what you're doing now, it isn't working, Harry."
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"I think I may have found a book that could have something of use to us."
"Really?" Graham asked, looking over at the blonde beside him. "Was it in the library?"
"No," Graces sighed. "I'll need to send for it. Shouldn't take too long though, a few weeks maybe a month."
"That's a long time for a book."
"It's an old book." Graces sighed, "And unfortunately there is only one copy and it is owned by some family in the States. I'm currently in the process of making an offer for it."
Graham nodded and went back to the book he was currently reading, his mind having no difficulty leaving the subject. Graces sat there for a moment silently before asking if they should leave to join Draco.
"No," Graham murmured distractedly. "I think he wants to be left alone for a bit."
"I hate leaving him in there alone. We get back and he is… I don't know, wild almost. He has this crazed look about him."
"He insists he thinks better when we're not around. He only requests a few hours on the weekends before we join him. I think we would both do well to honor such a simple request."
Graham glanced up from his book at the girl seated in front of him.
"There's no need to fret at the moment."
"I'm not fretting," Graces said dryly.
"You look like you're fretting."
Graces narrowed her eyes at him challengingly, but Graham was so used to the Malfoys that he brushed the look off with hardly a thought. He looked around the library, thankful that Sundays usually left it pretty quiet.
"I know it's none of my business, and trust me I wish we could avoid this kind of discussion, but everything okay with you?"
"Yeah, fine."
"You just seem unusually despondent today."
"Big word," Graces muttered irritatedly, flipping open a book and closing the conversation.
Graham took the paper he had balled up earlier and playfully chucked it at the blonde in front of him. Graces scowled, picking up the balled up paper and looking at it then him, perplexed by the idea that he could good humoredly throw something at her. The right side of Graham's lips tugged at a smile, but Graces just continued to look at him as though he were mad.
"Are you ill?"
"Merlin's beard, Malfoy. I'm being a friend."
"Well, stop it. You're freaking me out."
Graham let out a breath that was close to a sigh and told himself to let it go, but again he found himself continuing.
"You really have nothing to worry about right now."
"I'm not worried."
"What are you? Cause you look far from fine."
"If you must know I'm angry."
"Angry," Graham repeated, a little taken aback by Graces declaration. "Angry at what?"
"It's personal."
Graham ground his teeth for a moment before deciding to just let it go. If Graces didn't want to talk to him, fine. He really hated talking anyways. He had just started to begin reading again when the paper he threw earlier bounced off his jaw. He looked up to find Graces with a ghost of a smile on her lips.
"Stop flirting with me, Malfoy."
Graces laughed heartily at his words and Graham was put somewhat at ease to see that whatever was bothering her was easily put away.
"If I was flirting with you, Montague, you would know it."
Graham raised an eyebrow at the blonde before smirking.
"I don't believe I have ever seen you flirt with anyone."
"I flirt!" Graces cried, clearly appalled at this idea that she didn't have a certain feminine charm. "I flirt well!"
"With whom?"
"I flirt with Blaise."
"You and Blaise put on a show. It doesn't count."
Graces' mouth hung open for a moment before she scoffed and asked who he flirted with.
"I don't have time to flirt."
"And I do?"
Graham shrugged. "More time than I."
"I can't imagine you flirting."
"I flirted with you."
"When?"
"Nice scales."
Graces flushed before calling him a very unflattering name in French.
"See, I can flirt."
"It wasn't impressive."
"I wasn't trying."
Graces laughed and then leaned back in her chair regally. "It wouldn't have worked if you were. I don't really go for the charming, dashing smile, sweep me off my feet sort of thing."
"Oh no? What is it that draws Graces Malfoy in?"
"Sincerity, I suppose."
"Merlin, I really was doomed then."
"Afraid so," Graces giggled.
"Come on, we should go meet up with your arse of a brother."
"Please, you love Draco," Graces scoffed, picking up her bag and deciding to just carry her books.
Graham rolled his eyes and took the books out of Graces arms to carry. "You Malfoys think a lot of yourselves."
"There's a lot to think," Graces declared, shining her pearly white teeth at him.
Graham didn't return the smile. He just shook his head and wondered when he had grown so fond of the Malfoys. He remembered a few years ago all he wanted to do was pummel Draco in the face and shove Graces down the stairs. It was interesting how much of them was below the surface. Not to mention how much they have been forced to grow up. Graham wondered how much he himself had changed since taking over for his family and taking the Mark.
He never felt more alone than he did these days. He knew he had the twins, but it wasn't the same as having your own family. And his family was either not speaking to him, waiting for him to fall on his face or silently grateful that he took over and they could sleep securely. His left arm felt heavy with responsibility, and he could have sworn his Mark was tingling beneath his sleeves. He knew it was impossible and that this was in his head, but still it was always there on his mind, reminding him of how deep into the pits of hell he had crawled. He tried to put his thoughts away, reminding himself that what was done was done and he made the best choice for his family. The people he loved were safe and that was all that mattered.
He reminded himself of what was done to the girl beside him. He flashed the images of her bleeding to death on a bed, with people too scared to get her real medical attention. She suffered, his sister suffered and he was going to be damned if anyone else he loved suffered when he could help it.
They turned the corner to find Harry and Neville sitting on a bench in the hall, talking quietly with one another. Both boys fell silent at seeing their entrance and, for a reason he didn't understand, Graham marched forward towards them.
Harry stood at seeing his fast approach and Neville looked over to Graces questioningly, but before either boy could say a word Graham yanked Harry towards him before shoving him against one of the stone walls.
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Neville jumped to his feet at seeing the Slytherin captain throw Harry against the wall. He didn't even bother with his wand before running forward. This turned out to be a mistake as not a moment before reaching Graham the man's wand was pointed at prepared himself for a hex, but before it came Graces' arms were on Montague's, stopping him from throwing a spell.
She was breathless and shaking from head to toe, but she didn't remove her eyes from Montague. There seemed to be a stalemate between them all. Harry now had his wand out and was pointing it towards Graham, who was still towering over him holding him against the wall, and Graces was between Graham and himself, her wand now out. Graham lowered his wand from Neville and focused it back on Harry.
"Just wanted to have a bit of a chat. That's all," Graham said, lowering Harry down.
"Oh, obviously," Harry said. "This is how I start conversation."
Graham smiled in a way that made Neville push forward, but Graces moved with him, not allowing Neville to get too close.
"I just want to know, Potter. Why the Malfoys? What is it about these two that has you on them like a cat in heat?"
"Guess I have a thing for blondes," Harry quipped, his wand not moving despite Graham pocketing his own.
Montague nodded, his strong jaw highlighted by the granite like stubble of his chin.
"Yeah, they do have a way of getting under the skin, don't they? It's a talent of theirs." Graham's eyes raked up and down Graces in a way that had Neville's fist clenching. "Glad to know it's their hair color that has you following their every move and not your assumptions about their political status," Graham said, his eyes trailing back to Harry's. "Cause, the thing is, I think if it was that it would be a bit unfair of you to only be looking at them."
Neville wasn't sure what was happening. Why Montague was doing this, but he did know one thing. Graces did not like or approve of it.
"Should I be watching you?" Harry asked, stepping into the other boy's broad chest.
"Maybe. My uncle was at the Ministry with you, don't you remember? Your lot injured him."
Harry's eyes flicked to Graham's left arm.
"Go on, Potter. Ask. I dare you. Ask to see my arm."
Harry looked like he was about to, but before he could Neville spoke.
"Harry, this is Graham Montague. His sister was married to Terrance Higgs… He had two nephews."
The flame that had been in Harry's eyes dimmed and he shuffled back, before weakly expressing his condolences. Graham's eyes were burning holes into Neville for a good minute before he turned them back to Harry.
"Leave the Malfoys be. I catch you so much as looking in Draco's direction, or Graces', I will personally make it my business to end you."
"I'm sorry, but I think it's my business to watch the people who may be plotting to murder me. Thanks," Harry snapped.
Montague chuckled. "I'm going to let you in on a secret, Potter. Only one person is allowed to end the Chosen One's life."
"Graham," Graces whispered.
Montague looked over at Graces and the blonde silenced her protests.
"You don't deserve this. He doesn't get to judge you and he sure as hell doesn't get to judge Draco."
Harry looked as though he were about to say something, but Graham turned back to him.
"I should have punched your lights out long before Longbottom here did, but I didn't. I won't make that mistake again. You will leave the Malfoys alone." Graham stepped away from Harry and moved over to where he had dropped the blonde's book. "You're an idiot for turning down Draco's friendship, Longbottom. A true fool."
Neville watched as the color in Graces' face drained. "What?"
"You didn't know? Draco offered Neville his friendship."
Graces turned to Neville and he did his best not to flinch under her stare.
"No, I did not." Her words cut through him like a sword.
"He did." Graham looked over at Neville for a brief moment before turning to leave. Graces stood there staring at Neville with a look of deep betrayal on her face. Neville didn't even care that Harry was there. He moved forward to touch her to try and explain, but the blonde moved back, her stare turning hateful and accusing.
"Graces—"
"Keep away from me, Longbottom. I mean it. Stay the hell away from me!"
Graces hurried over to where Graham stood in the hall waiting for her, and even from this distance Neville could practically feel the rage rolling off her.
He knew now was the time to leave well enough alone. He could owl her later saying he wanted to talk to her, but he found himself calling her name now and demanding that she talk to him. At first she didn't turn around. She walked in sync with Montague who looked back a few times, perplexed at Neville's anger, but eventually the blonde whipped around and Neville braced himself for the tantrum to come.
"We have nothing—NOTHING—to say to one another."
"I think we have plenty to say to one another," Neville hissed, careful to keep his voice down to keep Harry and Graham, who kept their distance, from hearing.
"We don't! We're not friends, Longbottom. And you most certainly are not my boyfriend, so stop acting like it! Leave. Me. Alone!" She turned to leave, but Neville circled around stopping her.
"You meet me tonight to talk," he whispered, practically shaking with rage.
"No way in hell," Graces growled. "Draco offered you his friendship?" Neville took a step back as the blonde shoved him. "And you turned it down? You insulted him like that?" Another shove. "You insulted me like that?" Neville grunted as Graces pushed him again. "If you're not a friend of my brother, you sure as hell aren't a friend of mine."
She went to shove him again, but Neville caught her wrists, holding them tightly above her elbows.
"Graces," he started slowly, honing his own temper in. "We are a mess of dysfunction. A serious mess," Neville repeated, meeting the blonde squarely in the eyes. "But one thing we do not do—one thing I will not tolerate—is you touching me in anger."
Graces had a flash of defiance to her face before she yanked her arms away, defeated by his words. She stared at him for a long moment before trying to push past him. Neville held her back, his hand catching her arm, as he leaned in close to her ear.
"I'm a good man," he whispered. "Slow to anger, quick to forgive. Maybe not the smartest, but hardworking. And maybe not the strongest, but courageous. And I love you, Graces. I love you."
"I'm a good man," Neville repeated. "And I'm sorry that's not enough for you. I'm sorry that the only way you can accept my love is if my arm bears the cost of my soul. I hope you will meet me tonight. That you will calm down and see what a mistake you're making and choose to talk to me rather than end something that has been so good."
He released her arm and she glanced over at him for a quick heartbeat before moving forward. The older Slytherin looked at them in confusion before accepting her under his arm and escorting her away.
Neville turned to see Harry staring at him, just as confused as Montague was with the exchange. Harry ran his hands through his hair as he clearly tried to decide what question to ask first.
"Did you know Graces buried Graham's sister and nephews?" Neville asked, rushing past his friend so he didn't have to look him in the eye. "That small act of brutality towards you was probably a long time coming." Harry shook his head in confusion and Neville continued on, leaving Harry to try and catch up to the conversation at hand. "After I, uh, hit you, Draco offered me his friendship. Said I could sit with him for breakfast, but I know enough of pureblood politics to know that sitting with him would mean, well, an act against you. And I didn't want to be on that side of the war."
"And, uh, Graces was angry because…"
"We were sort of friends," Neville lied, unsure of how else to explain it. "She never would admit to it, but we were. Guess that's over now."
"You two were sort of friends," Harry said skeptically.
"That bet really was friendly. When we were alone together she was different. We talked a bit, bantered. When I asked her out that was not out of nowhere. I was hoping that maybe she would put aside all the stupid political nonsense and… It was stupid, a stupid romantic gesture. I mean, she would talk with me when we were alone, but if people were around she acted like we never had a conversation. I should have known where I stood."
Neville was surprised at how easily he was able to lie now, and a little worried about how easily he could put them together. Harry was silent for a moment before speaking.
"When you two were racing on the Quidditch pitch?"
"She momentarily forgot she was supposed to hate me in public," Neville laughed.
"Do you think she fancies you?"
Neville raised his eyebrows, a bit surprised by Harry's perception.
"No, she pretty much hates my guts at the moment. Maybe she started to, I can be very charming," Neville grinned, in a way that told Harry how he actually felt about himself and charming was far from the word. "But no, not anymore. I insulted her brother. Graces is not a forgiving being and she loves her brother. Me turning down his friendship was… unforgivable." Even as he said it he prayed it wasn't true.
"When she tutored you… she really did talk to you, didn't she?"
Neville shrugged and realized he was going to have to give Harry a bit more information than he wanted to.
"Like I said, mostly friendly banter, but, every once in awhile, she would actually talk to me."
"What about?"
"Things…" Neville murmured vaguely, finding interest in the floor.
"Yeah, but what—"
"Harry," Neville cut in, looking up. "I'm pretty positive she doesn't want me telling you or anyone else about our conversations."
"So, uh, if you two were getting along then why did she stop tutoring you?"
"Isn't it obvious?" Neville asked. "I asked her out. In public. I think when I did that she realized we shouldn't be friends."
Harry was silent for a long time.
"Is there more, Neville? Because it feels like there is more and you just don't want to tell me."
It was a heavy question, one of those questions that he knew could absolve him or damn him to hell if the truth ever came out. He thought about telling him, laying everything out in front of him and telling Harry that he loved her and that she wanted a future with him, but he couldn't give it to her on her terms. He wanted to tell Harry he didn't betray him, that he just loved her and something that was this wonderful couldn't be wrong.
"There isn't anything more, Harry. I wish there was, but there isn't."
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Graham eyed Graces as she hurried through the halls, her mind clearly going a million miles an hour. There was no point in her trying to hide her feelings and there was no point in his pretending that this wasn't an interesting scene unfolding in front of him.
The blonde stopped abruptly in the hall and whirled around to him, tears smearing across her face.
"I really thought he—" Graces stopped and took a breathe. "I thought he was my friend, Graham. I really thought he cared about me. I-I wanted him to be my friend."
"Is that all?" Graham asked carefully.
Graces looked at him for a moment, her face scrunched up against the emotions she didn't want to feel.
"I cared about him," she sobbed, covering her mouth. "I personally cared about him and he-he—"
"He doesn't owe you his loyalty, Graces," Graham reminded. "He made his choice about the war long before you two began this… friendship."
Graces glanced up at him at his last word.
"It's not romantic."
Graham remained silent, knowing it was better to let the guilty be harassed by silence.
"If I wanted Neville Longbottom, I would tell you. Who would be better to tell! How could you possibly judge me! At least Neville is a pure blood! He's not some veela/witch/siren hybrid—"
"What did you say?"
"You heard me."
"Sirens," Graham began slowly, carefully. "Have not been around for centuries. They were all killed. Slaughtered by the muggle and wizarding world. All of them. Every single one, hunted down and—"
"Oh, don't pretend like you didn't know! Look at those eyes! Those are siren eyes, Graham! An ocean at sunset eyes! Everyone knew the rumors that not all the sirens were killed! That some went to live with their sister species the veelas and the harpies! Hiding in numbers, never mating with other sirens, so that their offspring's traits favored others and not themselves. Damn it, Graham, look at her! She's an eighth veela, her mother and father are both witches and wizards but those eyes speak volumes of what lies somewhere in her heritage! Maybe everyone else has forgotten the stories about sirens, but my family has not. We were one of the very few who hunted them, and my grandfather always said you can tell by the eyes and the eyes alone. I guarantee if she so much as whistled a tune in the halls all the men would be struck with love."
The room was moving and the world had picked up its speed. He tried to regain what remained of his senses, but the only thing that came to him was Wamil's eyes and that thought made the world spin faster and faster. He took a step back and looked up as Graces' hand firmly balanced him.
"Graham?"
"I need you to be silent, Graces. I need you to be silent as I remember you buried my sister. My nephews. That you gave me a deal, so that I wouldn't have to marry you, but got the money I needed to create a business and gain respect from my family. I am reminding myself of how you have suffered, how Draco is suffering and telling myself that you knew this about Wamil and chose to stay silent this long. I am telling myself that this is not a threat, but you pointing out I have no ability to judge your choices, but I need you to be silent Graces. Because I'm scared of what you would do, or say and how that could kill—Merlin, you have the ability to kill her without ever touching her."
Graham yanked away. "If people knew. If one person knew! If a rumor got out about—"
"No one is going to know, Graham," Graces swore, holding his shoulders steady. "I'm not going to say a word." She was silent for a moment. "But people will eventually find out. The right people just need to see her."
Graham ground his teeth and wished his silent denial could truly change what he knew to be the truth. He turned his attention back to Graces.
"You won't tell?"
"Of course not," Graces sighed.
Graham nodded and looked up at her for a long while. "I won't either."
"I don't know what you're referring to."
"Yeah, you do."
"Graham, I don't know what you think you saw, but—"
Graham raised his hand to stop Graces from continuing her lies. "Just remember, Graces, your family still believes in honor killings."
Graces was quiet for a moment before declaring that she was in love with Thomas.
"I pray to the gods above that is true. Because Longbottom will never happen, Graces. It could never happen."
"Wamil could never happen."
Graham narrowed his eyes. "Thus I keep my distance. I advise you to do the same. Today could have ended quite differently for you if someone else had seen that display and put two and two together."
"There is nothing happening," Graces proclaimed, her voice strong despite the fear he could see in her eyes. "It's Neville Longbottom for Merlin's sake. Neville Longbottom."
"As you said earlier I have no room to judge. At least Longbottom is pure. Seven hells, if he had agreed to switch sides no one would even argue the match," Graham realized, a little astonished himself. Neville had even earned himself some semblance of respect from the Slytherins after helping Graces when she was hurt, giving his family's vote for Thomas and punching Harry Potter in front of the whole school. And there was no denying his valiancy... Still a bumbling fool though.
Graces made some noise of frustration before once again declaring that he was wrong. She pushed past him and stomped her way to the Room of Requirement, shooting him a nasty look every few hallways. She was just about to enter the room when Graham took her hand.
"We can't help who we want," he said carefully, being as gentle as possible with his words and his hand holding hers. "But we can choose our actions, Graces. If something was going on between you and Longbottom now is a perfect time to end it, because frankly people will find out and when the wrong people do you will be in too much trouble to save. You and your family are too intertwined, even if Draco understood he couldn't let this stand. You're being stupid, Graces. Really stupid. You're not thinking straight. You are putting your life and your family's safety in danger. Do you understand what I am saying?"
"I'm not doing anything of the sort."
"Graces, I know last time I lost my temper with you. I know I was more zealous. But you need to hear me. Really hear me. You will die if you continue anything. You will. Because if Draco can't bring himself to do what needs to be done should you be caught, I will." She jerked away, but Graham held her firmly. "It's not that I want to. It's that I don't want Draco to suffer for your actions. Nor do I want you to suffer."
"Because you would be made to suffer, Graces," he said gently, turning her chin up.
"Am I supposed to appreciate you promising to kill me?" Graces asked venomously.
"What you should be appreciating is my silence. Just as I greatly have appreciated your silence for me." She was glaring at him with so much hatred he was surprised she hadn't bored a hole through his skull. "You two seemed done in that hall, let it be finished."
He released her arm to let her go, but the blonde didn't move. He watched as she wrestled with her own inner demon, before pitifully proclaiming. "I don't love him."
Graham didn't say anything. It didn't make sense for Graces to risk so much for someone who meant so little.
"I don't," she whispered. "I never let it go that far."
"But it has gone far," Graham surmised.
Graces opened her mouth and closed it promptly. She seemed to be trying to figure out that herself.
"No," she decided, shaking her head. "No." Graham waited for an explanation. "I wanted it to though," she admitted. "I asked him to take the Mark. I begged him to, so we could be together. So that I could—" she paused and looked up at him deciding not to finish her last sentence. "I told him if he refused we could never be together, that I was done."
Graham didn't need Graces to tell him what Longbottom's answer was, and he pulled the blonde into his chest as she sobbed against him. He wished he could tell her that he thought Neville a fool for his decision, but he couldn't bring himself to speak such a lie. Longbottom was better off. And Graces was better off too.
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All around him was darkness. Draco gripped his wand tightly and spun around, hoping to find even a small glimpse of more. He tried again to use Lumos, but just like before his words were silent and the spell fell into the darkness. The only sound around him that he could hear was his heart beat. It echoed through the darkness, growing grander and quicker with every second of his panic.
He moved forward in the darkness, arms outstretched, waving in the emptiness for something, anything. He didn't know when it started, but somewhere during his aimless search a ticking began. He paused as he heard the sound of the clock race with his heartbeat and he moved faster, desperate to find anything to give him even a hint as to where he was.
He searched, arms waving, body turning this way and that. In his desperation he fell, his feet met with something soft and he laid on the ground breathing in the dust from the—wooden?—floors. He had no doubts about what he had fallen over. He sat up slowly and reached his shaking hands against the grain of the wood until his fingers met with something. He paused and allowed his mind to catch up with his senses to decipher what it was he was feeling.
Hair. Soft long hair.
He shot up from the ground and backed into a wall and suddenly the room he was in was illuminated, but it wasn't a room. It was the cabinet. He was sealed in the small cabinet and a body was tightly tucked away in there with him. He moved to turn the body around, already knowing from the long blonde hair who it was, but just before he could see the face he was pulled away.
"Draco. It's okay. It's okay," a familiar voice soothed, his words working against the adrenaline filling Draco's veins.
Draco relaxed slightly under the weight of Graham's hand on his shoulder.
"Your sister is here," he murmured lowly, his breath hot on his ear. "Calm down. All is well. You don't want her to see you like this."
Draco's fingers gently brushed over Graham's, ensuring he was real, and he took a steadying breath though his heart continued to pound in his chest.
"Where is she?" he rasped, his mouth dry from however long sleep had taken him.
"Feeding the birds. I can hear her finishing though. So do us both a favor and pretend to be the usual cup of tea you are when you wake."
"Has anyone ever told you, Montague, that your breath is horrid?"
Graham smirked and stood up, casually making sure to mess up Draco's hair for the slight. Draco scowled and moved his hand to hit the other boy's, but Graham just laughed and rudely kicked his chair forcing him to sit up from where his head rested on the table.
"I swear, you two should be the ones talking of marriage." Graces scoffed, placing some parchment and books on the table he had been sleeping at and kissing him chastely. "I think you and Graham would be better suited for life with one another than he and I."
"Draco isn't able to bear me an heir," Graham countered dryly, pouring himself a cup of tea.
"Maybe if your breath smelled better I would at least entertain the idea of trying."
Graham paused in his sip and glared over his teacup at him, but Draco grinned at the uneasiness that flashed across his face and knew the older boy was wondering if he was serious.
"My breath is fine," Graham decided, taking a sip and damning him with the same breath.
Graces gave him a disapproving look, but Draco just smirked. "Not my fault he's so self-conscious."
"If you're done being an arse, I have an announcement," Graham declared irritatedly. Draco fell silent and both he and Graces waited on the edge of their seats to know more. Unlike them who stayed within the confines of Hogwarts, Graham met regularly with others from the inner circle.
"As you well know Nott is in charge of monitoring Draco's task." Both twins nodded. "Well," Graham grinned pridefully, "not anymore. From this moment forward it is to be me."
"How?" Graces asked.
"Does it matter?"
"It does." Graham looked over to Draco, shocked at the deadliness in his voice.
"My life is not at risk," Graham reassured, his eyes meeting Draco's levelly. "Graces will be safe no matter what the outcomes."
"There is only one outcome. Draco will succeed, with our help," Graces said pointedly, her hand reaching out and taking Draco's.
Draco stole a glance at his sister's face before looking back to Graham. Both boys lived under no delusions of what was ahead and though they worked hard towards the best they accepted the outcome of failure.
"Nott was proven… less than capable of a recent task," Graham answered diplomatically. "I was much better suited. When I was successful, Nott was begrudging." Graham smiled. "I of course didn't mind taking him down a few more pegs in front of our Lord. Which led to me suggesting that perhaps he is ill suited for this task."
Draco could see from the corner of his eye Graces smiling brilliantly and did his best to show the same appreciation, though he knew this was not as simple as it appeared. He looked over to his friend and saw confirmation in his eyes that there was far more than he was willing to say in front of Graces.
They worked endlessly the rest of the day until the sunset and their eyes could hardly read the text of their books. Really they had only gained more knowledge of what was not to be done with the cabinet, but Graces was insistent that it was progress all the same.
"You're not going to bed?" Draco asked, finding it unusual how Graces was still with the two of them so late. Usually, well past this time, she would ask to be escorted back to the dorms to sleep.
Graces frowned and looked at the two boys hovering oddly.
"Do you want me to leave?" she asked, clearly surprised at the idea.
Draco looked over to Graham standing behind where Graces sat.
"Graham and I—"
"Do you have something to talk about?" Graces asked, turning to Graham.
"We just like to talk privately at night," Graham said.
It wasn't a total lie. He and Graham usually broke out a bottle of something once he got back from walking Graces to the common room and, though Graham usually preferred to drink in silence, discussion came up more often than not.
Graces looked to Draco, her identical eyes searching his for an answer. "It's nice talking just the two of us."
She could see through the lie, he knew she was able to, but for some reason when she turned back to look at Graham she didn't fight to know why. Draco stood to walk her to the common room, but Graham insisted he would do it tonight.
"Break out the good stuff, would you?"
Draco nodded and found a bottle and some glasses. The Room of Requirement had truly been turned into an office of sorts for him and Graham. Their own things had slowly gathered here and there to the point where both of them rarely needed to go to their dorms. He heard the soft click of the door closing and knew Graham had returned.
Draco didn't turn at Graham's return and instead poured himself a healthy glass of mead.
"So, it wasn't that simple I take it."
"No, it was," Graham said softly, staying near the door.
"But there is something."
"There is."
"Are you going to tell me?" Draco asked, turning around angrily, already weary from having to wait this long.
Graham hesitated. "You should finish your drink first."
Draco tensed his jaw, before downing his drink in one swift movement and waiting.
"What a waste of good mead," Graham sighed, leaning back against the door and not meeting Draco's eyes.
"Talk."
Graham closed his eyes and took a few steadying breaths before walking to where Draco was standing.
"The Dark Lord is displeased. As I'm sure you know. He grows impatient… and angry." There was a long pause, in which Draco withheld his counter of what else was knew. "You are to be punished, Draco. By my hand." Draco took an impulsive step back. "I'm sorry. There is nothing to be done. Our Lord has also requested my memory from the task."
"Meaning he expects it to be brutal."
"He does," Graham said solemnly. "You have a choice, though."
"Oh?" Draco asked, with ill feigned interest.
"Whip or Cruciatus."
"Do I get to be healed after?" The look on Graham's face answered his question. "Then the latter. My sister would notice the first, and gods above and below know she will never forgive or marry you if she knew you tortured me."
Graham nodded and reached for his glass which Draco promptly snatched from his hand.
"I think I need this more than you."
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