Author's notes: Thank you again to my bestie Aleah and my wonderful betas Denarii and Mdman1.

Special thanks to Guest, GreatBigBookofEverything, Amyb11, infinateconstellations,A Bookworm's Dream, Sakura19Haruno95, lipglossandcigarettes, anand891996, bellaphant, SoapOpera, trispectrum, ImsebastianstanButter, noone297, Malfoy Mouth James- MMJ, char170217, Guest, Naruhina1519, mchurch1992, AnnyJackson19, guest, Spannieren, guest, cw1991, Lil Miss Sunshine14, gr8rockstarrox and Phoenix for the reviews!

Chapter 86

Every second felt like eternity as Neville paced around the floor of his and Graces' room. He couldn't hold onto a single thought, nothing seemed to make sense. Everything was wrong. Truly wrong and he didn't know how or why. He had assumed Graces didn't meet with him last night because she had changed her mind about them talking. About them in general, but now that didn't seem right. Not after looking at her today. Something was wrong, and a pulse that had ignited in his veins—that he had mistook last night for helplessness and despair that Graces changed her mind—now resounded and all it did was beat into his very soul that something was wrong.

He ran his fingers once again through his hair. It was now as messy and untamed as Harry's. He loosened his tie once again before just yanking it off completely in frustration. He wanted to owl her. Find her. Anything but this damn waiting in the vain hope she would come.

She's going to come.

He stood in the middle of the floor and closed his eyes, hating that calm voice in his head. How did it know that? Nothing showed that to be true, and yet it was so confident. He wasn't confident. He was a mess of doubt and fear. Something was wrong. It kept repeating again and again inside him, resounding with every beat of his heart. He felt as though he were dragging a fork on his teeth and nails were dragging on a chalkboard.

He wound his tie around his hand until it was so taut he couldn't even feel his fingers. He focused on the numbness and calmed himself down just in time for the door to open.

He couldn't move. He remained in the middle of the room as she leaned against the door, every instinct in his body demanding him to be still.

"Are you still very mad?" she whispered, her voice laced with unshed tears.

"No," Neville murmured hollowly, taking in the gray, haunted eyes and short hair. "Not at all."

Graces nodded and bit her lip to the point where Neville could see the first pricks of blood. He tried to think of something to say, he had a million questions only moments ago and now his head was empty.

Graces fidgeted with the ring on her left finger.

"A impotency curse," she smirked, trying to feign humor but doing a poor job considering how her voice cracked as she spoke. "I'll admit I never saw that coming."

Neville felt like the floor swallowed him up and the world around him now ceased to exist. His heart hammered in his ears and his mind tried to put together what Graces had just said. There's only one way she would know what the ring did. Two, a new voice corrected. There are two. Neville shook his head though, against that hope. This was Graces, there was only one. He turned away from her and pinched the bridge of his nose and willed himself not to cry.

"Please, say something."

"Tell me you were mad," Neville said hopefully. "You were mad and-and in your anger you did something stupid. Something stupid that we will move past." Even as he said it he knew the words to not be true. His instincts told him what the real answer was. And he remembered why she had that ring to begin with.

"That's what you would prefer?" Graces asked, her voice high with agony.

"Of course it is," Neville said desperately. "How could you ask me that? How could you think I would want the alternative. That I could live with the knowledge that someone hurt you like that?" he choked. Striding forward and taking her hand as she tried to turn away to hide the tears told him the answer. He moved closer and pressed his forehead to hers so that their tears were mixing together on her cheek. He prayed to the fates it was the first, promising he wouldn't even be mad. He would forgive and move on if only they granted him this. Graces tried to turn away, but he held her closer. Willing the answer out from her lips.

He knew the answer, but still he hoped. Somewhere in the abyss of pain that was growing within him there was a tiny flicker of that hope. He promised her aloud that it was all going to be okay, that he loved her, that nothing could change that. They were stronger, together, they were stronger and he swore that on everything he did believe in.

Finally, after enough tears had been shed to make both of their throats sore the answer finally came. "I wasn't unfaithful."

He held her closer so that she was under his chin pressed so tight against him she wouldn't be able to see his face. She cried into his chest and swore the ring stayed on, that it didn't happen, but Neville knew there were other ways to hurt a girl. He had a feeling she had suffered and been violated all the same. He wanted to know it all. Every detail. How he had hurt her, where he had touched her. He didn't need to hear her say who, he knew who. And he silently vowed vengeance on Theodore Nott.

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"There has to be some way," Neville repeated, pacing as he had been for the past hour. Trying to figure out a way that they could turn Nott in to the aurors and see him sentenced to Azkaban. She was trying to be patient, trying to let Neville vent out his frustrations and reach the conclusion she had long ago. Nothing could be done, she just had to be more alert. But he wasn't reaching that conclusion and her patience was already worn thin.

"My brother would be the one to suffer," Graces reminded again tiredly. "The Dark Lord would not care. Nott is useful to him. As of now Draco and I—" She swallowed another lump of emotion. "—are dispensable."

"He needs to be brought to justice."

Graces looked up at Neville and felt a strong pity for the boy standing in front of her. He just couldn't accept that bad things happened and there could be no justice for them. "Bringing him to justice will endanger my family."

"You can't know that!" Neville snarled.

"There's a chance," Graces argued calmly, holding her head higher. "And I will not risk Draco's life. I won't."

Neville made a noise of frustration and turned away so she wouldn't see the anger flash in his eyes. Graces chewed the inside of her lip and watched him. He was trying so hard not to show her his rage, but it hummed all around him. She knew it wasn't directed at her, but it didn't keep him from every so often lashing out. The tears were for the most part shed, and what she was left with was this. Neville turned distant and angry, barely meeting her eyes and wanting more details than she was willing to give.

"You won't tell me what happened and you won't go tell anyone that has any power to do anything." He glared at her, for a moment before whipping his head away. "What do you expect me to be able to do, Graces?"

"I don't want you to do anything," she repeated tightly. "Please, Neville, please come sit with me."

"Nothing. You want nothing to be done?" He spat out the word like poison on his tongue.

"Neville, please—"

"No. I can't accept that. He doesn't get to get away with what he's done to you! He—"

"And what if he is arrested and then tells about Draco's mark? What then? Because believe me when I tell you, Neville, he would do it."

Neville shook his head and began pacing again. "He's going to do this again," he muttered. "He will never stop. You will never be safe."

"We will all be more cautious. I won't be alone again. I made a mistake in being in that barn by myself. I won't make that mistake again."

Neville stopped his pacing and closed his eyes as he asked yet again what happened in the barn.

"I'm not going to do this again. I told you all you needed to know. He surprised me, he attacked me, he tried to assault me and when he couldn't he choked me."

"I need to know more, Graces."

"Why? Why on earth do you need to know?"

"I just do."

"Why?"

"I JUST DO!" Neville snapped, the anger coming to the surface now.

Graces closed her eyes. "No. You don't," she breathed. " And I refuse to sit here and recount one of the worst nights of my life. There is nothing to be done and—"

"Then don't tell me. Show me." She stared at him. "Get a pensieve and put the memory in it for me to view."

"Are you mad?" she whispered.

Neville looked down at her, his face almost beyond her recognition. She didn't know the boy standing in front of her, but it was not her sweet Neville. "I am going mad, Graces," he whispered, his voice like iron. "I have to know. I have to."

"Why?" she asked tightly. "I told you. He hurt me and he touched me. What more is there to know?"

"There's plenty! I want to know how he touched you, where he touched you, what he said to you, how you fought, how he fought. Everything. I want to know every single detail."

"You know where," Graces argued, her cheeks flushing with humiliation that she reminded herself she didn't really need to feel. "I don't understand what the details will do other than bring more pain and suffering."

"I need this. I can't tell you why, Graces. But I do. I need this."

"Well, I need you," Graces countered, her voice breaking. "I need you, Neville. Please. Don't ask me this. Hold me. Take me to bed and bundle us in the sheets and hold me close so I can break in the comfort of your arms and warmth." She wiped away the tears from her eyes. "And then put me back together again. Be here for me. I feel so helpless, so powerless. Let me have you to lean on. I'm so scared. I-I'm so scared. Please. Please, hold me." She could see the crack in his resistance and stood, moving closer to take his hand. "We always thought of something before, and we shall think of something again. But I can't think right now, Neville. I'm so tired and so riddled with emotions I can't even name. You said you would take away my pain if I took yours and I know you've taken more than your fair share, but I need you to once again take mine. Please."

Neville for a moment looked like he would gather her in his arms again, like he did when he first found out, but he stopped himself. His face hardening.

"I can't." He paused and slowly slipped his hand from hers. "Please, get a pensieve."

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It had been hours since Graces had wrapped that last damned tendril of memory around the wood of her wand before dropping it into her father's pensieve. And still Neville had not emerged from their bedroom. She had refused to stay in the room while Neville viewed the scenes, though her refusal wasn't necessary. She realized the moment she lashed out that she would not stay for this, Neville had not wanted her to anyway. He had planned for her to leave. She didn't know or understand why that angered her so, but it did. All of this angered her.

She shouldn't have had to do this. Neville should have never forced this on her. What right did he have to demand such a thing? She needed him and he was too interested in his own wants and needs. She sat on the couch shivering and holding herself tight.

She hated him in that moment. Those minutes. Those hours, as she sat there alone forced to think about all that had happened to her. He was supposed to be with her, she went here because she needed him and he— he wasn't here. Graces closed her eyes and tried to make sense of what was happening. But she couldn't make sense of anything at all, not with so many emotions turning inside her. It was too many storms to weather and she could not make it through them alone.

She stood, no longer able to bear the silence. He had to have finished with the memories by now. She had only given him the barn, nothing more. She was sure that the ordeal had not been this long. There was no way she had suffered through hours. It had felt like eternity at the time, but it just couldn't have been. She forced herself to open the door, aware that she was far too vulnerable and not caring. She could be this with Neville, she could. It had been a long time since she had felt the need to hide herself from him. She didn't have to. It was okay that she needed him. It had to be. She looked over at the pensieve, and just as she thought there was no viewing.

Instead Neville sat there in the desk looking off at nothing at all. He didn't even acknowledge her presence as she walked further in the room waiting for him to say something. He just continued looking forward, his fist clenched in front of his mouth as he stayed with whatever thoughts he was having.

"Say something," she whispered, unable to bare the silence any longer.

He slowly closed his eyes, taking a deep breathe through his nose as his jaw twitched slightly. She waited.

"What should I say?" he asked, with a chill that sunk into her very bones.

Graces shrugged. "Something. Anything." Neville remained silent. "At least look at me," she cried.

Neville's eyes tightened as though that were his answer. "Why didn't you see him?"

"What?"

"He was right there. He was almost right beside you and you didn't see him. How could you not have seen him?"

Graces didn't answer.

"Did you know—" Neville began with a calm that sounded like a storm, "—that your memories are riddled with holes?" A tear welled up in his eye that refused to fall. "That I could see something one moment, and then it would be gone. Absent. Wrong," he frowned. "I would move about and it wasn't correct. I was walking through things I shouldn't have been walking through. Not seeing things I should have been able to see."

"At first, I thought the memory altered. I thought you were hiding the real trauma. And then I realized, that you truly didn't know those things to be amiss." Neville seemed to be biting the inside of his cheek as he gathered himself to continue. "And then when when he struck you I remembered October. I remembered your face so swollen and one eye had been swollen practically shut." He stared at her then. His face full of knowledge. "You're blind in that eye. Aren't you? It explains so much. Why you bump into things all the time, why I can so easily surprise you when I come up on that side." Neville paused. "Why you're struggling in classes. Why didn't you tell me? How could you not tell me?"

"I didn't even tell, Draco," Graces snarled. "I told no one."

"I'm your boyfriend!"

"And Draco's my brother."

"You sleep with me."

"And I shared a womb with him."

"You should have told me."

"In what world do you think you carry more weight than Draco?" Graces asked spitefully.

Neville's lip curled, and he turned away. Graces waited for him to slam his fists into the wall, but long ragged breaths were the only sounds that came.

"It's my eye, Neville. My eye," she repeated breathlessly, as she shook from her toes to her head. "And you will never understand what it's like for me. Never. I just want to be whole. If I let them take my eye I would never be whole again. Can you understand that? Never. There will always be something missing. Something... taken from me. I would never be the same again. I just want to be whole."

"You're not whole, though. That eye was taken whether you get a new one or not. Its sight is gone."

"Missing sight is different than missing body parts," she countered, swallowing the pain those words brought.

"You would be better off with a new eye. One that works."

"Is this what you want to talk about?" Graces demanded, hurt despite herself. "I need you and this is the thing you want to talk about."

"No. This is the tip of the iceberg of all the things I want to talk about."

He turned to her. "I know what you sound like when you are tortured. I know what you sound like when you are pleading and begging for mercy. I have a symphony of your anguish resounding in my head. Murals of your grief stricken face."

"When you screamed when he—he cruciated you," Neville bit out, his face scrunching together and she could see the shudder pass through him. She wondered briefly if he was thinking about his mother. Or maybe he was remembering the pain of it himself at the hands of her father. "I felt it in my bones. And when that-that monster's hand went up your skirt—" Neville couldn't seem to find words.

Heat flushed Graces' skin and she looked away.

"I knew something was wrong last night. I knew it. Somewhere deep down in me I could feel it. It was the exact same feeling I had in October when you didn't meet me. The exact same feeling. And I did nothing." The last word resounded with all the self loathing he must have been feeling. "I did nothing because I was too absorbed in being angry with you for not showing. Too busy feeling sorry for myself that you may have changed your mind."

"I wanted to look for you," he murmured, his eyes dragging up to meet hers. "I didn't because I was too proud. I should have looked for you. If I would have—"

"This isn't your fault," she whispered. "It's not, if blame is to be laid with anyone it should be with me." Neville opened his mouth to protest, but she continued forward. "I was the one that chose to not get my eye fixed. I put my wand down and away from me. I went alone into the barn, not thinking about—"

She stopped mid sentence as Neville's hands gripped her arms tight enough to hurt. "Don't you dare think like that."

"Then you can't either," Graces sniffed, meeting Neville's eyes with the same resignation. Neville flickered a look away, and released her. Taking a few steps back and leaning against the wall to look at the floor.

"Neville," she whispered. "This isn't you." Neville tensed and she moved forward, bringing her hand to his face and forcing him to look at her. "Please, come back to me."

She stared into those unfamiliar hard eyes, imploring the man she knew and loved to meet her. To regain whatever possession he was under and be there for her. But he didn't come forth. The eyes she was looking into held none of Neville's warmth and compassion. He lifted his hand and trailed his fingers gently around her jaw, before slowly down to her neck where those cold eyes glared at the unmarked skin.

"Neville?" she breathed, stirring the boy away from his thoughts.

"I'm going to make you some tea," he said gently, sitting up and removing her hand from his face, kissing her knuckles gently as though trying to make up for the sting of being pushed away. "I think you should take some dreamless sleep. You need rest."

"I don't want dreamless sleep," Graces argued, unable to hide the emotion in her voice.

"Maybe just a sip then." Neville gave her a small smile that didn't meet his eyes. "Just to help you drift off." Graces was going to argue, but then his mouth was on hers. Kissing her softly as he finally folded her into his arms. "Let me try to take care of you, Graces."

She nodded her head and allowed Neville to lay out a nightgown for her, before disappearing into the other room to make the tea. She felt in a fog as she undressed and climbed into their bed. She could hear Neville moving around in the kitchen and did her best to try and relax. It all felt so strange.

He's being strange.

She wondered at that for a few moments, before Neville entered with tea and vial in hand. She accepted the tea with a small nod and leaned against the pillows as Neville placed the potion on her night stand, with a meaningful look. She made no comment, but relaxed slightly as he climbed into the covers with her, folding her so that her back laid against him. She sipped her tea plaintively as he nuzzled his nose in her hair, breathing her in. There was so many things unspoken between them, but she wasn't sure how to address it all. Especially, when Neville seemed determined not to.

"I love you," he whispered, his breath tickling her neck as he bent his head down against her.

She was glad that he was behind her in that moment, because she didn't know what her face would show. She felt a mixture of emotions at the words. Discomfort still being the strongest. She took another sip of tea as her thoughts wandered to that moment in the barn when she imagined his face and her hands trembled despite herself.

Neville gently took the cup away at the sound of the clinking and placed it on the night stand, before quietly handing her the dreamless sleep.

She turned then in his arms, so she could meet his eyes.

"Just a small amount then," he murmured, reading her thoughts and gently kissing her forehead. "Just to help you rest."

She wanted to refuse, but she found herself opening the vial and bringing to potion to her lips. She didn't even take half, just enough to bring her to sleep and earn herself another soft kiss. Neville shifted so she could lie down, but didn't undress himself for sleep.

She frowned. "You're not going to sleep?" she asked, immediately breaking out in a yawn that was very unbecoming for a Malfoy let alone a lady.

"No," Neville whispered calmly, smiling faintly as he moved a strand of hair away from her face. "I like the short hair," he said quietly. "It suits you."

"You don't think it makes me look like Draco?" she asked, forcing her eyes to stay open.

A small smirk. "No."

"Graham said it made me look like Draco," Graces mumbled sleepily, her eyes closing despite herself.

"Graham's an arse."

Graces made some noise of agreement before the potion pulled her under. When she woke later the room was black and there were no signs of Neville. She sat up from where she was laying, slowly making her way through the fog of her sleep. Something had woken her. Something unnamed. Her stomach turned and she took a sip of water from her nightstand to calm herself. She was about to call out to Neville, thinking he must be residing in the living room, when she saw the envelope by her abandoned tea.

She took the letter knowing even before her fingers tore the thin paper that it was nothing good.

Graces,

There are so many things I want to tell to you. The first and most important being that I love you. I realize that you don't believe in or accept my love, and I understand. It doesn't matter, I suppose, because love was never going to be enough. And I was a fool to think so. You have always said my words were pretty, and now I truly see what you mean by it. Words are pretty, comforting, pleasing, but they don't do anything more than appease. My love has never done anything for you. It certainly has not kept you from harm. I know what you wanted last night. You wanted me to hold you as you broke. But how many times can I let you break and put you back together after you've been shattered? What more can you bear before some piece of you—of the woman I love—will no longer be able to be put back? I could not hold you last night as you broke, because I can no longer bear to be helpless in your suffering. Holding you isn't keeping you safe. My arms around you don't protect you.

And I can't live like this anymore. I won't live like this anymore.

So long as Theodore Nott is alive you will never be safe. He will plot and plan to hurt you. I could see it in his eyes as I watched your memory. He will never give up, Graces. I can't let Nott get away with this. I won't let him get away with this. What kind of man would I be if I allowed him to? Not the man that deserves you.

I hope you understand why I am doing this. I want so much for you Graces. I have this idea of what I want your life to be. I wish I could tell you what that is, but that would take hours I don't have. I just don't want you to suffer anymore. Please don't think this is a sacrifice for me. I want to do this. For my own selfish reasons I want to do this. I don't speak often of my mother, and even now I don't want to speak of her, but looking at her I see first hand what someone breaking again and again can do. There's nothing to be done for her. There's plenty to be done for you.

You asked me why I needed to know every detail. This is why. I had an idea of what I wanted to do and I wanted every detail of the horror he put you through, so that when I did it I would have the satisfaction of knowing what I was doing was right. Hearing your screams as he held you under his wand was enough.

It's probably morning by now, and the school is buzzing with the news of the events that unfolded last night. I hope you feel a comfort, and not any sense of guilt or pain. Please be happy, Graces. It's all I want for you. Don't mourn the loss of me by your side. This is better and in the end it's what I wanted. I always wanted to give you a happy life.

I love you.

Yours always,

Neville

There was a roaring so loud in her mind that she couldn't hear her own thoughts. She read the letter two more times, her chest tightening with each sentence. This couldn't be real. Neville couldn't mean what she thought he meant. Her mind was a blizzard of thoughts, that she couldn't process. One thought formed and immediately another pushed it away. Until her final answer came forward to all of them.

No.

Suddenly it all crystallized and she knew what she needed to do. It wasn't dawn, there was still a chance Neville had not gotten to Nott yet. She whirled about the room yanking down from the closet a wool coat that was too formal with the quidditch boots she was throwing on her feet, she didn't care. Just like she didn't care that under the coat she wore only a nightgown and her hair and face were a mess with sleep and tears. All she knew was she needed to find Neville and stop him before it was too late. If it wasn't too late already. The last thing she did was remember the vial of potion she brewed before departing into the night.

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