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Author's note: A special thanks to my best friend Aleah for reading this over and my wonderful betas Denari and Mdman1 for all the editing!

Special thanks to infinateconstellations, Phoenix, Char170217, princessyuki08, calhounariel97, Malfoy Mouth James-MMJ, anand891996, Aegis-BTM, trispectrum, Blue Luver5000, poukie-scrapbook, guest, cb1nz and Naruhina1519 for the reviews!

Chapter 81

Neville waited patiently at his desk for Graces to arrive. He had come to Herbology exceptionally early, not even bothering to eat breakfast. Not that he wanted any lately, he was praying that he might have an opportunity to talk with her. She was angry, there was no doubting that after their encounter just the day before, but surely she would have calmed down. He chewed on the inside of his cheek and again justified his reasoning for not taking Graces' words regarding their break up to heart.

She had his mother's ring. She had not given it back, and he knew if they were truly done she would.

She didn't continue pushing him after he scolded her. If they were truly done she wouldn't care.

She stopped Montague from decking him.

She wanted to discuss marriage. Neville paused at the last thought. She was an interesting character, no doubt, to want to discuss marriage when there was no love on her part. To be able to bring it up one second and walk out the next. He sighed and dipped his forehead into his palm. There would never be a dull moment, that's for sure, he thought, imagining a life with Graces by his side.

He quickly turned as he heard footsteps directly behind him and almost groaned aloud when he saw Hermione.

"Can we talk?" she pleaded moving to take the seat next to him. Neville pushed the stool in under the desk in reply. "Neville, please."

He turned away and faced the front of the room, but Hermione wasn't so easily pushed away. She rounded the desk so that she was standing in front, making it impossible for him to avoid her.

"Neville, I am sorry," she started softly. "Truly, I am."

Neville turned his eyes away from her gentle brown ones and focused on his calloused hands.

"I want you to leave."

She reached out to touch him, only to have him yank his hands away as though they were burned.

"It was an invasion. I know that," Hermione continued, doing her best to hide the tightness in her voice. "You're right to be angry, Neville. So right to be. I've been thinking about it and- and I would be angry too. That night was ever so private and I never should have been there. Never."

He remained silent, not even allowing her to think he heard her.

"I'm just worried about you," Hermione exclaimed, her voice breaking with emotion. "You're my friend. A very dear one to me if you are willing to believe," she added. "So dear, Neville. You're the first magical child I ever met, remember? And from the moment you met me you've always been kind and-and we've always got on. And I've always looked out for you. Always. Since the day I helped you find Trevor on the train to when I was whispering instructions in potions. I look out for you."

Neville ignored the way her words tugged at his heart and focused on his breathing, making each intake of breath so shallow it wasn't even noticeable that he was breathing.

"And you looked out for me." Hermione hiccuped. "You carried me limp and unconscious in the ministry last year. You kept me out of harm. And you visited me in the hospital wing when I was recovering from Dolohov's curse. You sent me flowers a few times and wrote me asking how I was doing with all the potions." Neville brought his knuckles to his mouth and closed his eyes, wishing he could just not hear her. "I was just trying to look out for you."

He knew what she was saying was the truth, and that she sincerely was trying to do just that, but he couldn't let this stand. Let this go. He felt her hand on his shoulder and jumped from his chair to put distance between them.

"Leave."

"Neville."

"Leave," he repeated, still not looking at her.

He could hear the sounds of students approaching and was even more miserable with the knowledge that he wouldn't have much opportunity to speak with Graces privately. Hermione didn't turn away though, she stood there even as the first few students trickled in.

"You're being a fool," she whispered angrily, coming close so that she wouldn't be overheard. "She doesn't love you, Neville. She said so herself. But I do and so do many others around you. And we would never ask for you to—"

"I want nothing to do with you," Neville lashed out angrily. "Nothing. You spied on me and then insulted me and the woman I love. Now leave. Leave not because I'm angry with you, but because I don't want you anywhere near her. She has no idea about you being there and so my anger at you has to account for her violation as well. Leave."

"I know you didn't tell Harry and—"

"No, and I don't plan to," Neville interrupted.

"I think that's a mistake," Hermione continued, moving to leave as she spoke. "I do, Neville. We'll talk later."

Neville shook his head and moved to his chair, stopping only when he felt Hermione's hand on his shoulder.

"I won't just leave you alone, Neville. Whether you believe me or not, I care and you are my friend. I won't just abandon you, no matter how nasty you are towards me."

Neville didn't respond, just sharply shook his arm away and took his seat. It wasn't long after that when Graces arrived. He expected to be ignored or for her to give him a scathing look, but she did none of that. She nodded to him politely, acknowledging his presence, and took her seat as though nothing had happened.

Neville sat there for a moment sincerely perplexed before asking her if she was no longer angry with him.

"Why on earth would I be angry with you?" Graces asked, a small furrow in her brow.

Neville was about to answer, but Professor Sprout began speaking and he was forced to at least pretend to pay attention in class. He kept glancing at the girl next to him, hoping for a real sign as to how she felt, but the blonde gave nothing away. She wrote her notes, made her diagrams and only spoke to him if she had a question or comment regarding the class. It was unsettling.

Professor Sprout reminded them to brush up on an older chapter to help with an upcoming project and finally dismissed the class. Neville was still trying to figure out what to say to Graces when the blonde spoke first.

"Longbottom," Graces started, her voice betraying no hint of malice. "If you would rather we could trade seats next class. That way you're not bumping your arm on mine whenever you write a note. I really won't mind at all."

Neville was struck dumb momentarily by Graces' words and then everything made sense. She pulled her book bag over her arm and nodded him a goodbye, but Neville stood abruptly and stopped her.

"You don't get to do that," he hissed angrily.

"Do what?" Graces asked, sounding surprised at his outburst, as though he truly had no reason to treat her with such hostility.

"Pretend like nothing has ever happened between us. Act as though I am a toy that you can easily put down. Like I never mattered, like what happened between us never mattered."

Graces' jaw tightened and she pressed forward trying to leave as though his words didn't speak to her. He stopped her again, not bothering to even try to keep appearances. Professor Sprout scowled from across the greenhouse at his actions and put down a plant she was holding.

"You're making a scene," Graces said quietly, her eyes glowering at him.

"This isn't a scene, if you want I'll show you a scene," Neville threatened, his hands still tight on her arms. Graces' cheeks reddened with anger and the Gryffindor was happy to see that there was acknowledgment in her eyes.

"What do you want from me?"

"I want to talk."

"There's no point. Unless you take the Mark, this is as much as we can be together. Cordial." She stated, narrowing her eyes and saying the last word with such emphasis it made him wonder if there was more meaning in it.

This time he couldn't stop her as she pushed past him. Professor Sprout even had to move as Graces tore away from the scene. The herbology professor stared at him, asking silently for an explanation, but Neville gave her none and looked down as he too rushed out of the greenhouse.

The rest of Neville's day followed the tone from the morning. He received a detention in Muggle Studies for being late and a scolding in each class leading up to lunch for not being able to pay attention. Hermione kept glancing over at him throughout the day and had even tried to corner him a few times between classes, but he was always able to snake through the people in the hall and lose her.

It was during this winding through students though that he caught sight of Luna. She was dreamily strolling to her next class, skipping every few steps as though she were purposely jumping over something when he called out to her. She smiled serenely at his attention and waiting for him to come close.

"Can we have lunch together today?" he asked, almost desperately.

"Oh yes," Luna grinned. "I was going to sit with you anyways while I visited with Ginny."

"Do you mind not visiting with Ginny and just sitting with me privately?"

Luna seemed to now notice his sense of urgency and nodded slowly, her huge eyes turning solemn for a brief moment.

"Is all well?" she asked, leaning in so that the butterbeer necklace around her neck brushed against his arm. Neville shook his head. She stared at him pityingly and then brushed her fingers through his hair. He tensed at the touch and blushed as people passed by, luckily most were used to Luna's odd ways, but still he felt odd, like she was seeing something he couldn't see. "Meet me in the stairway for lunch. I enjoy eating there. I'll bring lunch to you."

Neville was so relieved. He smiled genuinely and hurried away. He could talk to Luna, tell her about the date, Hermione, Graces' request, all of it. She wouldn't judge. He knew she wouldn't. He doubted she would have any real advice, but she was a comfort at least.

The last hour of classes passed so slowly. While he waited at the base of the staircase, Graces, Draco and Graham passed by together, but only Graham looked his way. He stared at Neville too long for comfort. Neville wasn't sure how to react to such attentions from the older boy and nodded his head slightly in greeting, but Montague ignored him and just continued on with his staring. He didn't turn away until Thomas came up beside him, after that the burly boy turned his attention to quiet conversation before they all disappeared to the Great Hall.

When Luna finally appeared they went up the staircase and sat down on some stairs near the fifth floor. Neville didn't really delight in the movement of the staircase while they sat, but he didn't complain. Luna clearly enjoyed this as a lunch spot.

"Aren't they beautiful?" she asked, handing him some chocolate frogs and licorice and revealing that lunch was nothing but sweets. He was glad he hadn't been hungry, though he knew he should be. He had hardly eaten since Graces walked out.

"What?" he asked, taking the sweets from Luna and fiddling with the wrapper for the licorice wrap.

"The paintings. They're such great company," she said breathlessly. "I try to sit on different stairs often to give them all attention, but there are just so many. The movement of the staircase will sometimes take me away right in the middle of a conversation too."

Neville smiled gently at Luna's words and decided that Luna was probably the most endearing soul he knew.

"I love you too, Neville." Neville raised his brows at her before stating that he had said nothing. "You didn't need to," Luna grinned, taking a bite of some ice mice and leaning back against the stones.

"So what's happened? I thought you and Graces were doing well. Didn't the date go well?"

Neville signed, he had been planning this date for so long, he had told Luna every detail of his plan, he imagined she would be just as disappointed in how it turned out as he had been.

"It did," he revealed awkwardly. "Just didn't end well."

"Did you not make love?"

"No, we did," Neville flushed, wondering why it was that Luna seemed to be interested in that aspect of his relationship with Graces. She had asked a few odd questions here and there over the past few months regarding his sexual relationship with the blonde.

"Was it not good?"

Neville laughed. "No, it was good."

"The best?"

Neville narrowed his eyes. "Why do you insist on asking me about this? I never tell you any details."

"I enjoy how uncomfortable it makes you," Luna revealed smiling serenely. "It's also funny when you refuse to answer."

"So this is your way of teasing me?"

"It is," Luna grinned, eating a chocolate frog happily.

Neville shook his head but didn't scold her. He supposed if he was telling his guy friends they would be teasing him in close to the same manner.

"So if the date was good and you two even made love, why is anything wrong?"

Neville sighed and leaning against the stairs. He chewed the inside of his cheek before telling Luna everything. For the most part she listened in silence, aside from a few questions here and there, but when he got to what Graces asked she seemed to be at a loss for words.

"I refused," Neville revealed quietly, looking down at his hands. "I refused and—and I think I broke her heart, Luna. She cried and begged me to reconsider. When I refused she got pretty nasty. Really cruel. I don't even want to repeat the things she said to me. She says we're over."

"Are you not?"

"No, she's just trying to manipulate me. I think she is withdrawing in order to sway my decision."

"Why do you think that?"

"She… she has a ring I gave her. Well, loaned her. I know if she truly wanted to part ways she would give it back."

Luna nodded, and stared up at a portrait of knights eating around the table.

"It must have been very hard for her to ask you to do such a thing," she whispered. "Frightening even."

"What do you mean?"

"It reveals so much about her, don't you think? How she feels regarding you, regarding her life. She must feel so trapped."

Neville held his breath to try and regather his own emotions. Luna once again had proven to be exactly who he needed. Hermione always seemed to be annoyed by the Ravenclaw's airy ways, but he wished she would take a lesson from her.

"That's not all," Neville said tightly. "Hermione was there as well."

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"Well, now we know that didn't work," Graham deadpanned.

Draco stared at the small lifeless bird laying in the cabinet. Unable to tear his eyes away from the corpse. It was alive and now it was dead. All in a matter of seconds. He had enchanted the cabinet, thinking that the spell he had found would work, and decided to test it using one of the birds in the cage. He decided.

I killed it. His heart raced a little faster and the same feeling that had pooled in his stomach when Katie Bell had been hurt was starting to spread throughout him again.

"Draco." He turned around to find Graham staring down at him. "It was an accident. And it was only a bird."

"I know that," Draco snapped, pulling away from Graham's hand on his shoulder.

Graham said nothing, just continued watching him with those knowing eyes.

"I'm just tired," he lied, slamming the cabinet closed so he wouldn't have to look any longer.

"Shall we wake Graces then and go to bed?"

Draco looked over at his sister curled up on the floor with old pillows that the room had decided to offer her once her eyes wouldn't stay open any longer.

"No, I think I'll stay here for a bit longer," he said quietly, turning back to his desk. Graham nodded and moved to wake Graces to take her to the dungeons. "Leave her," Draco called over his shoulder. "She's fine to stay here with me."

"Are you sure?"

Draco turned so he was facing the older boy. "Yeah, I'm sure, but thank you."

Graham nodded and started gathering his own things to leave.

"I want her to finish school," Draco declared, still looking at his sister worlds away in sleep. "Promise me that."

Graham was silent for a few moments, pausing in his packing. "I can't," he breathed, pulling himself up and rubbing his head as though he were getting a headache and knew this conversation to be coming. "I'm sorry, but I can only promise her life."

"She needs a proper education," Draco argued.

"I'll need a proper wife and I'll need to be a proper husband. I can't protect her if she is miles away from me and I only see her on holidays."

"She won't need protecting then!" Draco snarled.

"You're naive if you believe that."

"She's too smart to just bear your children. You know that."

"I do," Graham acknowledged, dipping his head slightly so Draco couldn't make out what he was thinking. "But Hogwarts will be wasted on her after you pass. She won't care to learn, Draco. She will be a storm of despair. I doubt she will ever truly get over losing you," he murmured sadly. "She will mourn you until the day she dies."

Draco held his breath to hold in his own emotions.

"She should be home with me," Graham continued. "We can seek each other out for comfort. She shouldn't be here. She'll only feel more alone here. You and her family will be gone and she would be expected to take tests and concentrate, it's unfair to ask her to do that."

"So you want her to waste away in her despair? Lay in bed all day and cry?" He could have strangled Graham if he hadn't come to love him.

"No… I've made arrangements with Thomas."

Draco stilled at Graham's words.

"He has agreed that Graces and I should raise his son while he is in school," Graham revealed. "I thought it would be best for everyone. Graces will have a reason to get out of bed in the morning and Thomas' heir will not be raised by a squib."

It hurt. It all hurt so much. Draco sat down on the vacant chair and tried to hold in all the pain he was feeling.

"Draco," Graham breathed, moving close.

"Thank you," the blonde bit out tightly. "I'm fine, just go."

Graham seemed torn between staying and obeying Draco's orders, but in the end he left. Draco wondered if it was only because he was uncomfortable with emotion, or if it was because the older boy himself seemed to be on the brink of tears as well.

He sat there trying to regain his emotions, but he couldn't. It was all crashing down on him. He couldn't breathe without his whole body shaking from tears. He stood up and left the room, abandoning his sister sleeping on the floor. He tried to imagine her life without him, the life Graham described. He wanted her to be happy, to live like death and suffering had never touched her, but he didn't want to be forgotten. He wanted to be there for it all. He wanted to be there for her marriage, for her raising Octavian. For her own children. He didn't want to die. He wanted to live.

He pushed through the doors of the girls lavatory on the first floor and immediately cried out for Myrtle. He didn't have to wait long before the ghost was before him, perplexed to see him in such a state. Draco didn't even bother to move into a stall, like he usually did to talk with her, he fell to his knees and sobbed in his palms, like a sinner begging forgiveness to their lord.

He could hardly catch enough breath to speak, but through his tears he finally managed one feeble sentence. "I killed a bird."

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Wamil sat before herself in the mirror, staring at every detail of her face like she never had before. Her whole life she was made to avoid vanity, told it was better to keep her eyes downcast, to dress simply, to leave her hair lifeless. They wanted to protect her: her parents, her brothers. Veela were tolerated, Sirens…

Her father had never told her mother when they married that he was descended from Sirens. He hadn't thought he would ever need to either. Boys and only boys had been born for generations, the gift unable to be given. She wondered sometimes if her parents wished they had stopped at four healthy boys. Her mother swore they didn't. She had said again and again that she needed a girl, that they wanted her to be a girl.

She was loved and she was cherished, but she could see the anxiety that she brought to her family. As best they tried to hide it, it was there. They didn't allow music in the house. They didn't mingle much with people outside their families, and when she was accepted into Hogwarts they drilled it into her head she was not to draw attention to herself. The relief they had when she was sorted into Hufflepuff was immense. Hufflepuff was accepting, accepting and loyal; if her secret was found none would give her up.

"So when do you meet him?" Her friend teased, smiling with the rest of her dorm mates from their beds.

She blushed. "I don't know what you mean."

"You're a piss poor liar, Wamil." Another girl laughed. "I've never in all our seven years of schooling seen you put your hair up and wear an outfit that fit you properly."

She blushed and turned away. "I look foolish, don't I?"

"You look lovely," she corrected, sitting up from the bed. "Truly, you do."

On some level she knew that to be true, she was naturally beautiful, beauty she had always tried to conceal, but she still felt foolish. "Thanks," she murmured, smoothing her hair back again and wondering at how big her eyes looked.

"I would kill for your eyes," Trish proclaimed, coming forward and looking at them through the vanity mirror.

"You and your fascination with my eyes."

"Don't be daft, the whole house is fascinated by your eyes," Trish snorted. "Not everyday you see someone who has eyes like yours."

Like an ocean sunset, shethought quietly.

"Don't you like them?"

"I love them," Wamil admitted, turning away from her reflection.

"Then show them off more often."

They didn't understand. They all assumed they were Veela eyes. Admittedly there were some Veela that had the same, but only because there was Siren in them. The Veela had done a lot to save their sister race. Now after generations of mating the characteristic was thought to be Veela, not Siren, but some remembered.

"Are you going to tell us who you are meeting?"

"No, I'm not," Wamil smiled, standing up and smoothing out the pink and gold fabric of her sari. She never wore such things usually, not when she wasn't home, but it flattered her and she wanted to wear it tonight. She really was being foolish. "I'll see you all later."

She left the room nodding uncomfortably to all the flattering comments her friends were giving her, as though they sensed she needed the reassurance. She ran into another classmate in the hall, he seemed to be heading for bed after the library, he paused at her appearance before awkwardly complimenting her.

"Thanks." She tried to hurry by without further discussion.

"You should do that more often. Put your hair up," he called out as she put some distance between them.

"Maybe I will."

"Oh and Wamil!" She groaned inwardly but turned around. "Don't think I won't be teasing you mercilessly at breakfast tomorrow. Sneaking out past curfew all dressed up. How scandalous. I may even owl your brothers."

"You will do no such thing!"

He grinned at her mischievously before walking away, she knew he wouldn't tell though. He just enjoyed being cheeky. Still she was not looking forward to the teasing. And she was partners with him in a few classes, so the teasing really would be relentless.

When she finally reached the classroom she was to meet him in she paused outside the door. The orange glow of the dungeon torches flicked around her and the world seemed to still. She once again wondered what she was doing.

She had ignored Graham Montague's letters for most of the week, deciding she was better off without him, but when he cornered her Wednesday night after dinner and physically handed her the letter she could no longer ignore his request. And if she was being honest she never really wanted to to begin with.

There was something between them. She knew it was there despite his efforts and even her own to ignore it, to let it wither and die. She could always feels his eyes on her: in class, the courtyard, at meals. Rarely she had caught him looking at her, he was very good at concealing his stares, but she knew he was looking. It was like a 6th sense, she could feel him.

She had convinced herself for a while she was imagining it, that she just found him mysterious and made up this idea of his attention, but there were instances over the years that slowly confirmed it was not in her head.

Like the Yule Ball when he gave her his coat to wear when she was out in the gardens with a group of her friends. Her date at the time was taking out his wand to perform a warming spell, but before he could she had felt the warmth of Graham's coat around her. She didn't even have to look back to know it was him placing the coat on her. She couldn't even breathe when it happened. She was too stunned for words of thanks as well. His knuckles had lingered longer than appropriate on the neck and when she looked up at him he was glaring hatefully at the Ravenclaw who had taken her to the ball before coldly stating "Etiquette dictates you give the lady your coat and use a warming charm for yourself."

The next day when she went to give him the coat back he snatched it from her before she could finish thanking him. But the next year when she replaced Cedric on the Quidditch team and Goyle had tried to purposely knock her off her broom he had come to her rescue, securing her from falling and then mercilessly laying into Goyle. Their team had scored multiple points due to their captain yelling at their Beater and not allowing him to actually play until he was done making his point. She was off limits.

And then he went about his life, acting as though she were invisible and when, after years of pining, she finally tried, he lashed out at her. She moved away from the door. What was the point in entering? What did she think was going to happen? She knew what she hoped for, but it seemed so stupid to hope for such things now. She had begun to hope earlier and ended up looking foolish. She didn't want to be that person again.

She looked down at her clothes and thought about the time she spent getting ready and realized she was already that person. She considered turning back, leaving and going to bed, but her heart wouldn't allow her to. The thought of leaving, missing this opportunity hurt more than the hateful words he had said to her in the library. So she pushed open the door.

He was there as promised. He stood effortlessly from the desk he was sitting on as she entered. There was no shock or anxiety touching his face, he was as cool as the stones he was stood upon. His dark eyes seemed to be taking her in and she shrunk back slightly, embarrassed and thrilled all at once. She bit her lip and looked around the classroom trying vainly to get a hold of her nerves.

"You're more than welcome to come in."

She looked up at his words, but couldn't move forward.

"Why am I here, Graham?"

He raised a well bred eyebrow at her question, before clearing his throat and seemingly trying to look inviting.

"I think you know," he said carefully.

She shook her head and tried to blink back her tears. She knew what she wanted, but she wasn't willing to believe that it was happening. She jolted back as she felt his hand take hers, but he was gentle, patient and eventually she let him pull her more into the room towards him.

He had said nothing, he had not offered her a kind smile or word, but his eyes spoke to her. Telling her tales of affection and longing. She placed her hands on his chest, surprised at how much pain she could feel in him, just under the surface. He hid it well, even now there was no trace of disturbance on his face as he watched her take him in. She wondered if he could feel her soul as she could feel his.

She kept her touch light and swallowed her emotions as she realized just how strong his agony was. Pain like this, pain this tangible she didn't understand how he bore it. And that said nothing of the anger, the hatred. He moved forward and she had to stop herself from taking a step back, make herself stand still as he pulled her body completely against him.

She realized that he had never truly looked at her, he glanced, stared, but never looked, at least not the way he was now. His fingers brushed against her face, tracing her outline into memory, before coming to her lips. A thrill sparked in her greater than any spell and she closed her eyes as he leaned closer.

She never did feel his lips come upon hers. She felt his wand come just under her eye and the arms that had held her so gently tightened around her so hard she immediately became panicked. She screamed and therefore missed whatever spell was cast upon her, but she knew it was on her eye. Her right eye tingled disturbingly with whatever spell was upon it. She yanked back, hard enough to take him off balance so he toppled on top of her.

And from there they fought. Her scratching, wielding her arms and legs against him as he pinned her down and moved to her other eye. He demanded that she hold still, put his full weight on her chest to force her to, but she didn't stop her efforts. He couldn't get get a good shot at her other eye. She kept her head turning, blindly tearing at any skin she could find on him.

Eventually he stopped just trying to hold her down and his force grew brutal. She cried out louder as he stuck her and yanked her hair so hard down her back that her neck was stretched beyond a limit. All she could see was the door, the door and his arm placed in front of her. His arm with the torn sleeve that gave her a peek of the skull and snake underneath.

She was in such a state of shock at the Mark displayed before her she stopped struggling.

He released her hair upon her stillness and grabbed her face so she could look him in the eyes.

"You are going to hold still," he growled, his weight heavy on her chest. "You will hold still because if you don't I will end up poking your damn Siren eyes out of your skull!" He was breathing heavy and bleeding in multiple places from her attempts to free herself. "And believe it or not, that is not my intention."

"Graham," she whispered. "Please. Just let me go. Please."

"I will," he nodded coldly. "After."

He pulled out his wand and moved it towards her other eye, so close if she did fight it would stab her. She cried, cried and begged him to stop, but he ignored her tears and cast the spell. The tingling that took place was horrendous, worse in this eye because she was holding still and actually feeling it.

"What have you done to me!" She screamed, rubbing her eyes violently and turning against the stone into herself once he moved off her. It was a maddening sensation and she was in a way relieved when Graham took her arms to keep her from scratching them out.

"It will pass."

She screamed for him to make it stop, demanded that he tell her what he had done, but only silence greeted her. When the pain did pass he allowed her to tear away from him. She ran to the other side of the room, to an old cauldron tucked in the corner. She frantically rubbed at the dust coating the metal until she could make out some of her reflections.

She stared at the foreign eyes looking back at her.

"My eyes," she whispered, backing away from the dull blue that was reflected back at her and shaking her head. "Those aren't my eyes."

She turned and gave a glare sharp enough to tear skin. "Change them back," she demanded dangerously, taking out her wand and brandishing it beside her.

If the boy in front of her was scared or felt anything at her tears he didn't show it.

"Change them back!" she demanded, sending a curse towards him that she knew to be painful.

He blocked it effortlessly and she sent another. Determined to hurt him, make him feel any sort of pain, knowing it could never compare to the pain she felt at his betrayal. He blocked that one as well, blocked it and disarmed her. She realized as she watched her wand skid across the floor that she was cornered, cornered and being stalked.

She lunged to get away, but he caught her and threw her against the hard stone like a ragdoll. She once again tried to fight and was again overpowered. Her arm twisted mercilessly behind her back and her face throbbed from being struck into the wall. He was no longer trying not to hurt her.

"You will keep your eyes as they are," Graham began, his voice devoid of any regret. "And the moment you get off the Hogwarts Express this summer you and your family will leave this continent. Do you understand me? You will leave and never return."

She tried to move and pain shot through her arm so strong she could barely see. He held it at that breaking point effortlessly.

"Do you understand me, Sunder?"

"Go to hell," she panted, closing her eyes and hissing as he pushed her face harder against the wall.

"Tell me you understand."

She sobbed against the stones. "I don't understand any of this."

He repositioned her arm and she screamed louder.

"Do you understand that?"

She prayed someone would come, that someone would hear her cries for help. It wasn't until he revealed that he charmed the room with a silencing spell that she stopped her attempts.

"This is simple, Sunder. Very simple. You will agree or I will slowly break every bone in your body until you do. Now I will ask one more time before I break your arm. Do you understand?"

She closed her mouth in defiance, but as soon as she felt the slight cracking in her arm she relented like a coward.

"I understand! I understand!"

He slowly released her arm, ever so carefully placing it in a position where it no longer throbbed. She turned to him, allowing him to see the damage he had done not only to her eyes, but her face. She could taste the blood pooling in her mouth and her face was throbbing where the bruises were forming. He tucked his wand into his coat as he surveyed the damage, his handiwork not seeming to impress him.

"I would keep your mouth shut about this encounter and my arm if you know what's good for you," he said casually, touching his eyebrow and examining the blood on his fingers. "It won't do you well to get me imprisoned. There would be a backlash much worse than this."

He turned to leave, abandoning her with her new eyes and his words. Slowly it all began to make sense. The brutality, changing her appearance demanding that she leave. He wants to save me. He thinks he can save me. She quietly mumbled through a tune. Her voice raw from screaming, but carrying perfectly in the silence. He stilled at the alluring notes and turned back to her. And for the first time his face held a genuine look.

"It wasn't true," he breathed, intensely relieved. "You're not one."

"No, I am," she corrected, holding her throbbing arm closer to her. "It just doesn't work if the person already truly loves you."

His face fell as if she had struck him and she could barely make out that he was shaking from where she stood. He didn't address the truth in her words. He just reminded her of his instructions and left, not looking back at her even as she came into the hall and watched him disappear.

Sorry for the long wait guys! I'm hoping you find it worth it! I'm having so much fun diving into Graham and Wamil's character! Don't forget to follow/ review!