As always thanks to Denarii for editing for me and letting bounce idea after idea off him.

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Chapter 92

Neville wondered if there was another word for how utterly exhausted he was. Surely this was beyond the normal realm of fatigue. He suppressed a yawn and went back to his homework. He was so far behind he didn't know if he was going to be able to catch up. Even with Graces out of the hospital wing, he couldn't seem to concentrate. His every thought was still entangled in that night. He knew there was something wrong, that even if she was healed physically, mentally was another matter entirely. He paused in his writing and once again wondered how she could have stabbed herself. What was so broken in her that she could do such things? What was so shattered that she wouldn't want to fix her eye?

"Are you not planning on sleeping tonight?"

Neville gritted his teeth at Harry's voice and then pretended to write something more on his paper. Harry's shadow continued to overtake his desk and Neville allowed the silence to drag on hoping the other boy would catch the hint. He realized it was a vain wish as Harry pulled up the seat across from him and awkwardly fidgeted with the edge of one of Neville's books.

"Who you love and choose to be with is none of my business," Harry said quietly, causing Neville to look up at him. "And I deserved it when you decked me earlier and I deserve your anger now. I never should have touched Malfoy." Harry was silent for a few moments. "And what I said the other night—" Harry continued, his voice hoarse, "—was unforgivable."

Neville swallowed and looked away. He didn't know where this was coming from, or why Harry was saying these things. If he was being honest he didn't know if he really trusted him when it came to Graces. He leaned back in his chair and met Harry's eyes for a long moment, holding them as he tried to evaluate the other boy's sincerity.

"Why such a change of heart?"

Harry looked away from his cold words, but Neville didn't budge. He felt like stone as he waited for an explanation.

"I don't think Malfoy hurt anyone," Harry mumbled, being obviously careful with his words. "And the more I think about it the more I think she may have been the victim in all this."

Neville swallowed as much of his anger as he could before he asked Harry if he had just been thinking or if he put his nose where it didn't belong and found out what happened. Harry's flushed face and shifting eyes told him the answer. Neville cursed and began to pack his things.

"Nev, please, stop."

"What did you find out?" Neville demanded, his essay due tomorrow now crumbled in his hand. Harry took a step back and opened his mouth just to shut it. "Answer me!"

"I-I know that Nott attacked her." Neville waited for more, his breath coming in and out of him like a raged bull. "Come on, Nev, I'm trying to apologize. Please—"

"What. Do. You. Know?"

Harry let out a shallow breath and licked his lips. "I saw Hagrid today and—he didn't tell me anything—but Graces came by with Draco to... to thank him. I started to piece things together from that."

"What exactly did you piece together?"

"Nev, please, I just want to make this right. I—"

"What did you piece together?" Neville demanded, looking up at the ceiling for a moment and praying silently for patience.

Harry was silent for a long time. "That Nott attacked her, and that the attack was because she is a girl."

Neville didn't let his face show a hint of recognition. He moved closer to Harry and pushed his rolled up paper into the other boy's chest.

"Nothing like that happened," Neville swore coldly. "So you better keep your damn theories to yourself, Potter."

Neville turned to leave, his hands shaking despite himself. He was going to go upstairs and pretend to sleep with the rest of the house until he could safely sneak out, but Harry's next words stopped him dead.

"You should just be with her!"

Neville stood frozen on the steps. "I think you're forgetting that it's not just up to me. She would have to want to have anything to do with me. And she very clearly doesn't."

"That's bullshit and you and I both know it. I'm not stupid, Neville. I know you two are together."

"You know nothing," Neville spat, turning and facing him. "Graces Malfoy wants nothing to do with me."

Harry shook his head. "I know I've been a git. That I've been unfair regarding you two, but I really want to understand now."

"I don't know what you're talking about. Nothing is going on between me and Graces. She doesn't even see me. She-"

"You're lying," Harry stated flatly. "And I understand why you are, but I am trying to talk to you here, Nev. I am trying really hard to figure out a way to say that if you want to be with her be with her." Neville couldn't breath. He stared at the boy in front of him as though he were a ghost. "I don't have a choice in this war. You do and you have the option to be with the woman you love. And I won't think less of you if you chose to be with her, choose to stand by her side and try to protect her, then die for me."

There was a loud ring of silence that was echoing in Neville's ear at Harry's thought of everything that had happened last year, thought of the losses he had suffered because of the first war, growing up with no parents, his gran losing her only son. All the things that this war had caused seemed to just flood to his mind along with all the people that were going to die.

"Don't you ever ever give someone a choice like that," Neville said, moving closer to Harry. "Do you hear me? Not ever!" He was literally shaking, he could feel his chest vibrating beyond his control, but he continued to shout. "Because Hermione doesn't have a choice! Colin and Dennis Creevey don't have a choice! Dean and Seamus don't have a choice! The moment you tell people that this isn't their war,or that they can be neutral you're saying it's okay to step back and allow people like them to be killed. Do you understand that Harry? It is a privilege I have because of my heritage that makes it so I wouldn't have to choose a side. It's a privilege no one else who isn't a pureblood can do. And I don't want it, and no one should be allowed to use it. Neutral in this war is saying it's okay for others to die so long as yours can keep going. Don't give me an out, Harry, don't give one person an out, because you don't know what difference they could make in this war. Not choosing a side is still choosing a side."

"I am trying to be your friend! I am trying to support you! You love her don't you? She wants to be with you."

"No she doesn't she-"

"Stop lying to me, Neville! I'm not stupid! You two are together, and if you want to continue to argue with me on this I will show up in the midst of you two being together just to make you stop lying."

Neville didn't say a word, he glared hatefully at Harry.

"I want you to be happy. I want to be a better friend to you," Harry stressed, his voice sounding as tired and worn as he looked.

Neville considered Harry and his words. He didn't know if he could or should trust Harry, and it wasn't only because he knew Graces would murder him if he told a soul. It was also because he didn't feel like he could trust Harry.

"Let's pretend for a moment that what you are saying is all true," Neville started slowly, watching Harry's every small reaction. "That Graces wants to be with me. That the possibility of me having a life with her is real. How could I not hate myself if I stood back and did nothing in this war? How could I look at my future children knowing that I allowed others to die? How would I justify that to them? Or, worse, how do I live in a world where they think there is nothing to justify? Where they think that You Know Who winning this war was a good thing. What do I do when it's my son saying mudblood? I don't want that world, Harry. I can't be partially responsible for letting that happen. I love Graces. I would die for her. I would lie for her. I won't hurt innocent people for her."

"You don't have to lie to me," Harry said tightly. "You can be honest with me. I won't tell a soul." It was tempting, exceptionally tempting. If he knew more of Harry's motivation he may even believe him. "It can't be easy being in a relationship with Graces Malfoy… or anyone in that family." Despite the situation Neville wasn't able to stop a small, sad chuckle from escaping his lips. "I just want to be your friend. I want to be someone you can talk to."

Neville knew Harry's declaration to be sincere, but he also knew that Graces would never forgive him if he talked with Harry about her. "I'm going to bed," he said quietly stepping off the staircase and heading to the portrait hole. "Good night, Harry."

He could feel Harry watching his every movement as he moved to leave Gryffindor Tower. As he was about to close the door Harry replied back with a good night. A small weight had been lifted off his shoulders as he walked to meet Graces. He hadn't even realized what kind of burden this secret had been on him until it was suddenly gone. He entered his and Graces' room, his mind still swimming with everything that had just occurred.

A glow could be seen around the door frame of their shared room, letting Neville know Graces had not gone to sleep yet. He opened the door to find her sitting in the bed, the candles on each of their night stands the only thing illuminating her face in the darkness. Her full face. Neville stepped closer to the bed, watching as Graces' false eye moved about wildly, never focusing on one thing for more than a moment before moving to the next. She had told him about that when he first found out about the surgery, but even knowing it was still daunting to behold.

"If you hold very still I can focus it for a time."

Neville nodded and took a seat on the bed so he was facing her. He watched as Graces concentrated on his face, until her eye was only looking at him, though it shook slightly as though it were fighting against her control. Bits of dried blood were on the edge of her eye, like sleep when you wake. He stared at it, wanting to reach out and brush it away but too scared to do so.

"Does it still hurt?" he asked quietly. "Before you said it hurt when it moved."

"No, it doesn't hurt at all now," Graces whispered, relinquishing her control and allowing the eye to move. "Mild headache from trying to control it. After a time it will be second nature, almost like a natural eye. Until then I have the patch and must practice."

"Almost?" Neville asked, his heart already sinking.

Graces gave a smirk, but it wasn't with the same confidence as she had once had. "I'll have more abilities with this eye. But I won't choose many. The more magical the eye, the harder it will be to control."

"What abilities?"

"I haven't decided how I want my healer to charm it. So I can see dangerous items, such as curses and poisons, or if I want to be able to see someone trying to be invisible."

Neville let out a chuckle that must not have sounded so sincere, as Graces moved her hand to his and said sadly. "It's going to heal, and when it does it won't look any different than my actual one. No one will be able to tell. The swelling is already subsiding."

Neville debating asking anymore questions for a moment. "There's some-some dried blood."

"Under the eye there's some stitches, they get irritated and bleed a bit. It will heal quickly; it's already healed a great amount."

"There's no pain?" Neville asked again, nervous despite himself.

"None. Not even when it bleeds."

"Good." He moved closer and pressed a soft kiss to her lips, moving his hand to her now short hair. He thought about last night, what she said, what it meant. And then his mind ran back to that night in the woods.

"Come to bed, Neville, it's late."

Neville nodded. "Let me just get washed up."

"And get out of those Gryffindor colors."

Neville laughed and played along. It was forced. It all felt forced, he could feel Graces' humor as what it was, a gentle push to not have a real conversation about what was happening, what happened. He felt cowardly not forcing a conversation, but at the same time he was scared to push too much.

The candles were blown out by the time he joined Graces in their bed. He moved closer and wrapped his arm around her. "Harry and I made up."

"Oh? How did that happen?"

"He admitted he's an arse."

"You said you two made up and yet I still sense some hostility on your part."

Neville sighed. "Harry tends to become… obsessive when he gets an idea. I just want him to leave you alone."

"I think he will."

"Why do you say that."

"I visited Professor Hagrid today… Potter was there."

Neville could practically hear her shrugging in the dark. He sat up and turned her so she was on his back. He had known she had visited Hagrid, Harry had said earlier, but he wanted to see what her motives really were. He had doubts as to whether or not she really visited to thank him. "You visited Professor Hagrid?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

Graces looked up intently at him for a moment before sitting up. "To thank him." Neville understood why she did such a thing, but it was surprising still that she did it, that Graces Malfoy went and thanked a half giant. "I didn't realize Potter would be there. Anyways, I don't know why, but I have a feeling Potter will be leaving me alone."

"Do you think Professor Hagrid told him what happened?"

"No," Graces answered with such perfect certainty it surprised Neville. "He would never do that."

Neville nodded, but he didn't understand. Not really. He didn't understand any of this. He knew Hagrid had helped her, but he didn't know what he had done. Nothing about how Graces' mind worked made sense to him, and she was content to just not discuss it all any further.

"We have to talk about what happened, Graces."

"Why? There's nothing to discuss."

Neville chewed the inside of his cheek. "I don't think you are well. I-I don't think you value your life, Graces. I—"

"I told you I did all this for you. I—"

"I know what you said," Neville interrupted, his voice patient despite his demeanor. "I just don't think it's everything. I think it's how you rationalized the action, but I don't think it's everything."

"I didn't want to die."

"No, I don't think you actively wanted to die. But I do think that you felt that your life was worth less than mine, than Draco's. That's why you never wanted to tell, to shield Draco. You put yourself in danger again and again, refusing to let me or anyone else really help you. You picked a potion to get back at Nott that used your suffering, your pain. The healers were telling Draco—"

"I don't want to hear what the healers said. I want to know what you think." Graces swallowed. "And it sounds like you think I'm not right, like I'm mad, even after we talked, after I explained."

Neville tried to think of what to say, how to tell Graces that he didn't think she was all well mentally. He could already see that any conversation where he just said that would end in disaster. But she wasn't; she couldn't be.

"I am not your mother," Graces seethed.

"I never said—"

"You're thinking it," she snapped. "You think I'm breaking, possibly already cracked, and you're thinking of—of a cup? Shattering again and again against the wall, and that somehow this relates to me, to your mother, to my mind!"

"You are not supposed to go into my head," Neville reminded, holding Graces' chin lightly between his index finger and thumb.

"You weren't saying anything."

Neville ground his teeth at Graces' petulance, but maintained the calm in his voice. "I was trying to figure out what to say."

"Well, now you don't have to."

"You are not allowed to flit into and out of my head as you will."

"Why? You're the one all about being open and honest."

"Graces," Neville warned, his temper flaring despite his resolve.

"I am trying!" Graces snapped. "I am bloody trying! I'm not wearing the patch, I'm letting you see me, and you're thinking that I need to be sent away!"

"I am not thinking you need to be sent away!" Neville yelled back. "I have said nothing like that!"

"You thought it!"

"No, I did not!"

"Then why are you comparing me to your mother!"

"I'm not!"

"Yes you are, she's right there at the front of your mind when you think of me! You think that I'm just like her!"

"I don't!"

"Yes you do!" Graces spat, curling her lip. "Just admit it, if we're to be so open and honest with one another. Just admit you think of me and her as one and the same. Maybe that's why you love me, maybe you have to think I'm like that to love me. You sure didn't love me when my life was perfect. No I needed to be broken like your mother to gain affection—"

"You are nothing like my mother because my mother would never have done this to herself! She isn't what she is because she was self-destructive! My mother was a fighter! She fought! And she gave everything in that fight! You gave up!" It took one singular moment for Neville to realize what he had said. Not just what he had said, but why he had said it. It was the first time he had ever said something to purposely hurt her.

"I didn't mean that," he said, still aghast with the fact that those words had in fact come out of his mouth. "Graces—"

"Get away from me." She pushed past him, her eyes brimming with tears as her face contorted to hide the pain he had caused. He refused to let her go, wishing she was still angry and spiteful, anything but crushed and disarrayed. It was easy to stop her from leaving. She practically collapsed in his arms when he grabbed.

"I'm sorry," he repeated again and again, unsure if she was even hearing him. "I didn't mean it. I didn't." She held him back, and he knew she forgave him, but he didn't feel any better for it. He thought back to the first time she cried like this in his arms, when they were in an abandoned classroom and she couldn't even admit that there was anything between them. How was it that after all this time they were still here? Still in what felt like the same damn situation. Graces was right. This couldn't continue. There had to be a choice at the end. There had to be a choice and there had to be real healing. He didn't see how that could all happen though and he still didn't want her to lose everything.

"I'm sorry for what I said too," she whispered after a while. Neville nodded, but wasn't able to leave his thoughts.

"I don't want it to be like this for us. It can't be this way for us." Graces nodded in agreement and wiped away a few more bloody tears.

"I am trying," Graces said helplessly. "I am. I really want to be better. I really have been trying, I admit what we are. I think about a future, our future. I—"

"I know," Neville interrupted, closing his eyes to keep his own emotions in check. "I know," he repeated tightly. "Maybe I'm impatient, because you're right. You are trying. Things have changed, but I still feel like an outsider looking in on your life. And now I'm frightened of it."

Neville thought back to what he had felt when Graces had stabbed herself, what he had felt when he realized she couldn't see out of that eye. She had so many secrets, so many things lurked inside of her that she kept hidden from him, from Draco, from the world. Brief were the moments he saw those things, but once they were shown he couldn't look at her without seeing them.

Graces looked away for a moment. "I didn't want to die. I never intended to die." She swallowed and tucked herself under his chin so she wouldn't have to look him in the eye as she continued. "But I knew it was a risk. A possibility. And there was a point, a brief moment and I swear it wasn't even for long, when I thought this would be easier. I was bleeding out and it stopped hurting, and I thought how wonderful it would be if this was all over."

He didn't know what he was thinking, what he was feeling, everything in his head went black and he just cried.

"It left my mind as soon as it came. I swear it did. Because I thought of you and Draco. I thought of my Mum, Thomas and Octavian. I even thought of Graham. I didn't want to die, it wasn't even a thought worth mentioning because it was so quick."

She was pleading, as though she desperately needed him to believe her. The thing was he did believe her, he believed that is exactly what happened, but it didn't change what it meant. It didn't change how he felt, how she had felt at that time. It didn't change that she needed help.

"Neville, please say something," she whispered.

"I love you." It was all he could think to say. It was the only thing that he could think over the ringing in his head.

"Are you going to tell?"

"No."

"Do you believe me?"

"Yes."

"Then why are you crying like this?"

Lots of reasons. She had wanted to—if only for a second—she had wanted to die. And the most disturbing thing of it all was it wasn't the desire to live that made her want to continue on, it was obligations to people. She didn't want to live for herself. She wanted to live because she didn't want to hurt the people she loved. Was she so unhappy? Had he not realized how unhappy she must have been all these months? Was she using him and the people around her as a tie to this world. Did she really find no other enjoyment in living? Did death truly seem easier? She clearly didn't value her life in comparison with others. Was this the start? He thought of what may be around the corner and he had no idea how to handle it.

"Because I think you need help," Neville answered honestly. "And I don't know how to help you."

"You think the healers are right," Graces said tightly. "You think I'm going mad."

Neville took a deep breathe. "I don't think you are mad, Graces. I think you may be a bit sad, sadder than I knew. Which you are justified to be," Neville added, making sure to be careful with his next statement. "And I think everything has weighed down on you. This war, your father's absence, the separation from your mother, the fear you live in on a daily basis, Thomas and Octavian. You are sixteen, but the problems you have are not sixteen year old problems. The relationships you have are twisted into what they have to be and not what they should be. You're not a friend to Thomas, you're more like a guardian. Draco can't be an annoying brother because he's had to be your protector. Graham isn't just a friend he's—well, he's a potential alliance in marriage that may save your life. You have to hide from everyone around you and you can't trust the adults in your life to help you. It's all on you." Neville was silent for a long moment. "Even our relationship isn't what it should be."

"What should it be?"

Neville smirked at the unsureness in Graces' voice. "In a world without this war our biggest problem should have been getting your brother and family to like me. We would have dated, actually dated gone on dates. Things should have progressed slowly."

"We would have never dated. This never would have happened without the war."

"You don't know that." Graces raised an eyebrow at him before laying her head back down. "You don't."

"I know."

"I could have charmed you."

Graces let out a snort. "I doubt it and even if that were true you wouldn't have wanted to charm me."

"I told you that I had the beginnings of a crush on you before the greenhouse."

Graces flushed. "I really don't understand that, but I doubt your little infatuation would have survived my harsh tongue. If we had never had that night in the greenhouse nothing would have developed between us."

"You enjoyed my company in Herbology. Before the greenhouse, you told me so yourself that night."

"I was drunk."

"You were honest. I think it would have taken half the year, but you would have eventually thought enough of me to entertain the idea of a crush."

"Which I would have fought."

"And I would just continue to be gentle and patient despite your Malfoyness, and then I bet come summer you would miss me."

"Missed you?" Graces laughed.

"Absolutely, you would probably be home and one day be looking at some flowers, probably in your disgustingly elaborate garden, and you would have this sudden urge to owl me about some plant. Of course you would fight the urge, realizing that you were only looking for some excuse to talk to me, but it would be there."

Graces rolled her eyes, well one eye, and Neville decided to continue on. Enjoying this conversation over the other.

"You would eventually write. You're too accustomed to having what you want and having it immediately. So you wouldn't be able to stifle your impulses and you would write me. Probably with some question relating to a plant or little garden project you wanted to do. Maybe you want to plant things so you have everything you need for a potion, I don't know, point is you would write me."

Graces was silent for a moment. "Would you have replied?"

"Of course. Probably within the hour I got the letter. Not thinking much of it, other than I would enjoy the discussion and be happy to receive a letter from you. I would hide it from my Gran, unless she saw before I could, but I would quickly reply. You—I bet—would wait days before deciding to reply and when you do the letter would be riddled with question upon question and maybe end with one pleasantry."

Graces smiled and Neville knew what he had stated was true. "Eventually you would be dying to see me."

"Dying?" Graces repeated skeptically.

"Yes, dying. The letters wouldn't be enough. You couldn't just bring up a normal conversation in a letter, but if you were with me you could. So you would probably find some excuse to meet me somewhere in Diagon Alley, maybe to help you select something for your garden project or to get an opinion on a herbology-related purchase. I don't know, you're the Slytherin. You would figure something out. And I would meet you, having no idea that you had motives other than herbological interest."

"Which frankly would have been a good thing. If I had any idea that I had a chance with you I would have become a nervous wreck. I mean, I probably would already be anxiously excited to see you, but if I knew your reasoning it would be a disaster."

"So our meet would go smoothly, because you wouldn't know?"

Neville laughed and nodded. "I would have talked your ear off about plants, but yeah pretty smoothly. Then we would part ways and—"

"We wouldn't have just parted ways," Graces scoffed. "I would have feigned hunger and asked if you wanted to get something at Florean Fortescue's. I may have even done that in the middle of the errand, so I could have a casual conversation with you. Try to see if you really were interesting to me, or if my infatuation truly was fleeting."

"Well, that sure would have ended the meeting going smoothly," he admitted with a soft chuckle. He could see the whole scenario perfectly. Graces in all her confidence and coolness making such a normal suggestion and it just completely unraveling him. No way would he have not been awkward after that. He looked down at Graces who was smirking as though she knew this herself, and imagined she would have enjoyed his nervousness in this scenario.

"What happens from there?"

"We would slowly build a friendship. A real one, not just polite acquaintances. We would become friends, writing letters over the summer. By school time I probably would be absolutely mad over you and sick with worry that you wouldn't pay me any mind now that the school year has begun and you would have your friends back." Neville smiled. "You wouldn't though. It would be easier for us to be friends at school without a war. Not simple, just easier. You Know Who wouldn't have risen, so I never would have went to the Ministry with Harry. You would have no real reason to have animosity towards me other than—"

"That you're a dirty, muggle-loving blood traitor," Graces finished smiling widely.

"I was going to say other than me being a Gryffindor, but I suppose that would be the bigger issue."

"My family would never accept us, Neville," Graces said sadly, moving closer into him and closing her eyes.

"You're wrong. I saw first hand how much your family loves you. I was there as you lay in the hospital bed fighting for your life. We would win them over, I would win them over. Draco wouldn't even be difficult. If he saw us as friends and it gradually progressed, if you could talk with him about your feelings, if he could sit down and have a real conversation with me. I think he would accept me. Your mother would be harder, but—"

"My father would be around in this scenario," Graces reminded. "I doubt you would win him over."

"No, he never would like me. He would accept me though."

"You're delusional."

Neville chewed the inside of his cheek for a moment. "I am not proud of this, but I am still a pureblood." Graces scowled. "And this would have been the only time, in my entire life, that I would have used that. The only time. But I would use it if it meant your father would have me over for one damn dinner so I could see you properly."

"There's more to pureblood culture than blood, Neville."

"Yeah there is. And I would be willing to do the stupid song and dance of courting you. I would put up with the three months of seperation, the supervisions, everything."

"None of that would get my father to like you."

"He wouldn't like me, he would accept me. Honestly, he may enjoy the fact that I am a blood traitor, helps sell his story of not ever being a Death Eater of his own will if he can point out his daughter is dating a Longbottom. I have no doubt your father would throw our dating and my last name around politically to benefit himself. Not to mention he probably would think he had me under his thumb."

"You really are a dreamer, Longbottom."

"I am, but you can see it can't you?"

"Some of it," Graces admitted. "Not all. When and how would you ask me out?"

"At some point you would probably get tired of my dragging my feet and demand to know if I planned on taking you out properly or if I was content to just be your friend. I imagine it wouldn't be fairly into the school year, maybe Christmas time, you do hate waiting."

"So I would bully you into asking me?"

"Gently nudging," Neville corrected, kissing her forehead. "I honestly would have needed it."

"Where would you have taken me?"

"Three Broomsticks. I'm not that original."

"Would you have kissed me?"

Neville flushed. "Thought of it, dreamt of it, but no. It would be a few dates before I worked up the courage for that."

Graces laughed. "You don't give yourself enough credit. Do I need to remind you of what happened the first time we were alone together?"

Neville smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "That night was one of the best nights of my life, but that's not what it should have been, Graces. In a perfect world things would have progressed slowly, we would have gotten to know one another, our feelings would have had much more time to develop." Neville was silent for a moment, thinking of what would have been. What should have been. "In a world without this war the first time we slept together you would have loved me… and I would have loved you. And that act wouldn't have been something that took away our pain, but an act of love. Your first time should have been with someone you loved."

Graces was silent for a long time before reaching up and touching his face. Both her eyes focused on his. "Maybe it was," she whispered, leaning in and kissing him softly. "I just need time to figure out how I feel."

"That's kind of my point. You would have had time and you would have made that decision when you were sure. All that time where you felt badly about it, wouldn't have—"

"Do you wish you would have had that?" Graces asked looking up at him quizzically. "Do you wish you would have been in love? Do you wish you were with someone who is in love with you?"

"I only wished for you."

Graces fell silent and stared at him for a moment before looking away and saying they should get some sleep. He nodded and stood up from the uncomfortable stone floor and followed her to bed. He barely slipped under the covers before she was nestled up against him in the crook of his arm. He laid there for only a moment before his body responded to the soft, warm bed and the exhaustion of the last week.

"Neville," Graces whispered, somewhere between the darkness trying to swallow him and the room still around. "I think I wished for stupid things and the gods knew better or maybe took pity on me and sent me you."

Neville smiled, but couldn't bring himself to open his eyes. "Who's saying pretty things now?"

Thanks for reading! SO sorry it's been awhile. I'm currently pregnant! Yay! But the first trimester was miserable and I was exceptionally sick. Couldn't keep any food down and was severely tired. I would literally get up go to work and come home and sleep. Then I had kidney stones and craziness at work to attend to. So for those of you who were wondering what was going on that was it, making a human is pretty hard at times. But I hope you enjoyed the chapter! I know it was a long time coming! Hopefully, I can get a few more chapters out before my little boy arrives in June!