Author's notes: Special thanks to Denarii for editing and also dealing with me as I rewrote this mess three different times. And to kissonamountaintip, Krakengirl, I knowImafangirl, Blindfox455, trispectrum, EirSnowLavellan, John Solart, Lil Miss Sunshine14, Lunak10, unpetitwolff, AnnyJackson19, Simmens, neatfreak16, emilyamazing, Bumblebee3230, Malfoy Mouth James- MMJ, omgitsfranklin, guest, Frenchi is French, Blue Luver5000, RIOSHO, infinateconstellations, , Amyb11, Gr8rockstarrox, Demachina, for the reviews!

Chapter 96

Neville had been surprised, to say the least, when a silver patronus had sleekly run up to him in the 6th year boys' dorm. He was even more surprised to hear his Head of House's voice come from the wispy cat and instruct him to meet her in her chambers. He hadn't even bothered to properly dress. He grabbed a robe and a pair of shoes, shoes that were a bit too formal for his striped maroon and gold pajamas, and left Gryffindor Tower without even a glance at his roommates. Neville's steps echoed against the quiet of the castle and he was beginning to feel a little sick to his stomach as he followed the cat through the corridors, always a few inches from stepping on it.

He was scared, he didn't know why, but he was. Even without being told why he was summoned, he knew it had to do with Graces. He had meant what he said—if she didn't ask for help he would do it for her. This couldn't go on anymore. Things had never gotten better after the hospital. Every day she seemed to deteriorate more. They weren't fighting, in fact they had seemed to settle into this quiet routine. Once the castle was asleep they would sneak away to each other, lay in bed and hold one another while they talked about their day, until they fell asleep.

It sounded sweet until you knew the intimate details of it all. Like how when he laid down with her he would feel her against him and wonder how much more weight she could possibly lose. Or that when she rested her head on his chest she would sometimes stare off into the distance and he didn't know where she went. She woke up screaming and ill each night. She had even admitted to him once that she had dreamed of him. He had been surprised to hear that he was in those dreams. But she never told him what happened to him in them. He had an idea, though. She would tell him what happened to Draco, Thomas and her parents on nights she dreamed of them.

And they never had sex, which was a brief afterthought to everything, but since he was thinking of all the things wrong he figured he should throw it in. Lack of physical intimacy didn't bother him, but what did was that the one time they had, Graces had not denied him, she was—he didn't know—compliant? Whatever she had been it didn't feel right, so they didn't. He couldn't. Then she had apologized and promised to be better which made it even worse than before.

When he arrived at McGonagall's door the cat jumped forward, disappearing into the wood, and the door immediately swung open to reveal his Head of House. There was a mixture of sadness and discomfort as McGonagall stared up at him and it made Neville's heart skip a few beats. The older woman swallowed hard and stepped aside, silently inviting him in.

Neville entered and nervously looked around the room before his eyes found Graces sitting on a sofa by the fire, her forehead resting in her palms while she looked down unseeing. He turned to McGonagall, but the older woman gave no sign to him of what was going on. Without much insight as to what was occuring he tentatively walked towards Graces, careful not to appear too familiar with her, and took a seat beside her on the sofa— keeping a distance that would be appropriate. Graces looked up at him tears gleaming off her cheeks and hiccuped a sob before reaching out for his hand with hers. After a moment of shock Neville took it and looked up at McGonagall for a brief moment before moving closer to Graces.

"I said too much," Graces sobbed hiding her face in her other hand. "I said too much."

Neville blinked and tried to make sense of everything which was increasingly difficult with his Head of House standing in the corner watching their interaction.

"I-I'm sure that's not true," Neville said lamely. Graces groaned and shook her head. Neville inched closer and hesitantly put an arm around her, expecting the blonde to recoil. But no recoil came, if anything the blonde sank more into him.

"Graces," Neville said gently. "Whatever you said I know it wasn't too much and I know that she will only want to help you."

Neville was still awkwardly holding her with one arm as Graces began to cry in braying sobs. He was still trying to figure out how he was allowed to react towards her when Graces turned into him and put her arms tightly around his neck as she let her tears soak into his nightshirt so the spot right under his chin felt like a mixture of damp heat and cloth. He looked over at his Head of House nervously, before pulling Graces closer to him and winding one hand through her hair and gently kissing the top of her head. He closed his eyes and let her cling to him as he held her silently until her tears began to taper off.

"I'm going to get some biscuits for the table," McGonagall said calmly, walking towards the kitchen and allowing them some privacy. She looked at Neville as though she wanted to say something, but no words came.

"Graces," he whispered, moving her away from him so he could look at her. "What did you say?"

"She knows," Graces said hoarsely.

"What does she know?" Neville asked, taking both her hands in his.

"She knows... about us," Graces said weakly, her eyes turning away with guilt.

"Okay," Neville nodded, as though this were a small, minute thing.

"I'm sorry."

"I'm not," Neville said firmly, giving her a small smile. "I'm not at all. What else did you tell her?"

Graces shook her head. "I don't know. I-I didn't mean to say anything, I—"

"She told me very little," McGonagall interrupted, a silver tray of biscuits slowly setting itself down on the small coffee table before them as well as a decanter of firewhiskey with three glasses of clinking ice. Neville was caught a bit off guard as his Professor poured a generous amount into one glass and held it out to him. He looked unsurely at the amber liquid, as if it may be a trick, but after a moment he hesitantly accepted the glass. Graces took hers with no hesitation and Neville watched as she took a few calming sips. It wasn't until Graces was half way through her drink and McGonagall was done with her first and pouring a second that he allowed himself a nervous taste.

McGonagall leaned back in her chair with her second glass and seemed visibly more at ease. She stared at the two of them for a moment, before leaning back up. "How did this happen?" she asked gesturing to the two of them sitting side by side.

Graces and Neville exchanged a few awkward glances, each unsure of what was appropriate before Graces answered "With a few bottles firewhisky."

Neville was glad he hadn't been drinking at that moment, because he absolutely would have spit it out. McGonagall seemed to find the comment quite amusing which Neville was sure pleased Graces' twisted sense of humor. He took a few long sips of his own drink—now not at all shy about it— just exceptionally grateful to have it.

"And when did that occur?" McGonagall asked pointedly.

"September," Neville answered quietly. "A bit after we had been partners in Herbology."

The older woman nodded. "So you two have been together since September?"

"No, well, I—kind of," Neville sputtered. "It's… it's complicated."

"I see," McGonagall drawled, before falling paradoxically silent. "And now?"

Graces bit her lip and looked down, leaving Neville to answer again.

"I—it's—I love her," he said gently, taking Graces hand in his and flushing a bit at telling someone else his feelings. "And Graces is—" he stopped short and chewed his lip a moment. "I love her," he repeated, allowing that to be answer enough.

The older woman stared at Graces waiting for her to say something, to add to this, but Graces pointedly continued to avoid her eyes.

"And how many people are aware of your relationship?"

Graces let a small breath of air. "Pomfrey."

"Madam Pomfrey?" McGonagall asked in shock.

"Yeah," Neville nodded. "I forgot that she knew. She, uh, she figured it out. Luna also knows," Neville added, before McGonagall could ask how Pomfrey figured it out.

"Potter," Graces listed quietly.

"Harry?" Neville asked as if there were any other Potter, his voice breaking in surprise.

Graces nodded and avoided his eyes. "You two were constantly fighting," Graces said tiredly. "I hated it. You weren't going to have any friends with how you were going about. You bloody punched him in the Great Hall, Neville. Harry was never going to stop spying on me without the truth. So I told him."

"Okay, but— but why didn't you tell me you told him."

Graces shrugged. "I didn't want you to be so hopeful."

Neville through a hand up. "I don't even know what that means."

"It doesn't matter," Graces dismissed. Clearly closing the topic.

Neville scowled, but decided here wasn't the place to argue. "Hermione knows," he admitted quietly, mentally preparing for how Graces was going to react.

"What," Graces gaped. "What—when—how?"

"I don't even want to tell you all that surrounds that, but she knows."

"Did you tell her?" Graces accused, her temper flaring.

"I did not."

"Then how—"

"She spied on us," Neville sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"Even if she did, we couldn't have done anything that was damning, we—"

"She knows, trust me, she knows."

"She couldn't possibly, Neville," Graces argued, more in denial than anything. "We're careful. We—"

"She followed us on the weekend of Valentine's Day," Neville said slowly, not wanting to say more than that. The color drained from Graces' face and she stood there with her mouth gaped in horror.

"What— what part?"

"All."

Graces looked as though she were going to be sick. "All?" she asked helplessly.

Neville looked up at her despondently. The anger he expected, but he didn't expect this. "I'm so sorry. I had no idea—"

Neville stopped trying to explain as Graces' face crumbled and she began crying. "She's going to tell," Graces sobbed, sucking in a deep breath only to lose it again with another cry. "Oh gods, oh gods, we have to go. We need to go."

"Go?" Neville scowled.

"You said you would run away with me," Graces reminded, standing as though she were going to run and pack her bags right that instant. "You said—"

"No one is going anywhere," McGonagall proclaimed, bringing attention back to the fact that she was there.

Graces stared at the woman for a moment before turning her eyes back to Neville. He stared at her silently pleading for him to take her away, to side with her in this insanity. He didn't understand it, he couldn't make sense of her reaction, but he knew that she was desperate. Desperate enough to want to run away and to want him to go with her.

"Remember when you used to beg me to go to your safe house? Remember you said you would keep me and mine safe? Well, I want to go. Neville, please."

"Because Hermione knows? Now you want to run? Graces, that doesn't make sense," Neville said, dismayed at the idea.

"Neville, are you aware of how dangerous your and Miss Malfoy's relationship is?" McGonagall asked carefully, looking over at Graces for a moment and then back to him.

Neville's brow furrowed slightly and he looked to Graces for answers, but Graces was now focused on the older woman. A hateful, despairing expression sweeping over her face.

"I'm aware she will be disowned," Neville swallowed. "Which is why we've been so careful. I don't want that."

McGonagall nodded slightly and looked to Graces as though she expected something from her.

"You can't tell him," Graces whispered shaking her head.

"Tell me what?"

"He needs to know," the older woman said firmly. "This is very serious, Graces. He should have known from the beginning."

Graces just shook her head and moved more into his chest. Hiding herself in his arms. "You promised me, Neville."

"Graces?" Neville asked hushly, looking down at her and silently pleading for an answer as fear slowly started to coil in his belly. "Graces, what are you not telling me?"

Graces looked over at the professor. "He will leave," she pleaded.

"What?" Neville scowled. "Why would you think that?" Graces shrugged and tried to avoid his eyes. "Graces," Neville said sharply, causing her to look at him. "Why do you think that I'm going to leave? Is this about earlier? I told you I wasn't—"

"You will leave over this," Graces whimpered, closing her eyes and trying to move away from him. "You're already unhappy, if you knew this then—"

"No," Neville declared.

"You are, Neville, I can tell," Graces said sadly.

Neville licked his lips and moved her so she was at arms length from him. "I am scared. I am worried for you and yes, it makes me unhappy. But I love you and I would never leave."

"Everyone has a breaking point."

"I have no breaking point when it comes to you," Neville declared savagely.

"Graces," McGonagall broke in gently "I think you need to give Neville some credit here. Trust him at his word."

Graces took a few steadying breaths and Neville— doing his best to be comforting—took her hand in his and led her back to the couch to sit. The longer Graces seemed to be trying to work up the courage to talk the harder his heart pounded in his chest.

"I-I wouldn't disowned, Neville," Graces began meeting his eyes squarely as she spoke. "I would be killed."

Neville sat there for a moment trying to make sense of what Graces was saying. The words changed strangely through his mind the longer he kept thinking of them. "What?" he asked, removing his hands from hers.

"You should have told me," he said, dull anger slowly coming into him.

"I couldn't," Graces sniffed. "I—"

"This has to end," Neville said determinedly, standing up. "This has to end."

"Neville," McGonagall began only to be cut off by Graces.

"You think I'm going to accept that?" Graces asked through her tears. "I know you love me and I know you're only doing this to protect me. You think I will let you end this? You think just because you say now it's over that it is?"

"You have to," Neville nodded. "Because I won't do this anymore. I'm not going to be the reason you die!"

"I don't tell you what's worth dying for; why do you think you get to tell me," Graces spat back angrily.

He felt sick, so violently ill and flushed with heat he was sure he was about to pass out. What was she saying? What was she even bloody saying? That he was worth dying for? Him?

"You should have told me," Neville said angrily between his teeth, closing his eyes so the room stopped spinning. "I never would have—all those times you wanted to end things, you wanted me to stay away, you could have told me this and I would have. I—"

"I don't think I ever wanted it to end. Not really," Graces desperately tried to explain. "I knew if I told you you would have ended it. You would have thought you weren't worth it."

"I'm not," Neville moaned.

"That's for me to decide."

Neville shook his head. "No," he said weakly, still in disbelief that this was happening.

"I know you love me. So you can walk out that door, Neville, but you are still mine and I am still yours. So don't do anything stupid."

Neville pinched the bridge of his nose and willed himself to stop crying. Those were his words she just threw back at him and they were more true now than ever. He thought of all the times they had been careless, all the times they had been together. All those times he had been risking her life. Every time he had kissed her, held her, touched her, slept with her, he had been risking her life. He should have known. It was all so obvious now, how could he not have known?

The worst part was that they were so far down this rabbithole, she was right, neither of them could walk away without the other one agreeing. Him saying it was over didn't mean it was over, because the root lay in that he was leaving her because he loved her. She knew this, so she really just could not accept it.

"You don't even love me," Neville cast out bitterly.

"Let's pretend that I believe you and that I am worth it," Neville said, his own voice airy and giving tale to how ridiculous this notion was to him. "Let's pretend that I'm the best bloke in the world. The perfect guy. I mean there is no one better."

"You don't love me, Graces," Neville stressed. "Which is fine, I don't mind at all, but you don't. You have made it very clear that you just don't feel that for me. And I think we all can agree that death is not the price to pay for a man you don't love."

Graces jaw vibrated and she looked down at her hands intertwined in her lap. And Neville knew in that moment that she would agree, because even she couldn't argue with that logic.

"Oh, Neville," Graces sniffed, looking up at him and wiping away her tears. "I do love you though."

For so long he had yearned to hear those words. He imagined what life would bring if she felt the way he felt for her. He imagined that it would be perfect, she would love him and he would spend every day of his life tending to that love. Since she had declared that if 'she loved him she would choose him' he had even allowed himself, in his most quiet moments to fantasize about a life they could have together.

But when he heard it, when she actually said it, it wasn't happiness that spread through him. It was fear. Cold, like winter frost spreading through his whole body until it shot at his heart. He felt sick with the weight of it. He dissolved into sobs leaning against her knees for support as he cried helplessly into her lap. He could feel Graces' kind hands—no, not kind—loving hands gently brush against the fringe of his hair as she whispered empty promises that it was all okay. But it wasn't okay. It was far from okay. He stood stiffly and turned away from her, blinded by tears and a series of emotions all too complicated to name. He moved to leave, to escape this room, to get a moment to himself where he could feel the true catastrophe of the mess he was in. Graces called out to him, but Neville shook his head. He was crying, he was scared, but he was also mad. Mad that she had kept such a vital secret from him; mad at himself for not realizing the consequences.

When he shut the door behind him and stood in the silent corridor he felt as though he were in another world. Everything felt foreign and wrong. He sat down on the cold ground and gave in to the emotions hammering into him. He should have known. All this time he should have realized how dire the consequences were, but like the fool he was he didn't see the big picture. If he had taken a step back and really looked at their situation, their world, he would have known that she would have been killed for being with him. He hated himself for not knowing. It had been a long time since Neville had felt such self-loathing for himself, but he felt it now. Like a reawoken monster was climbing up out of him to rear its ugly head.

He heard the door behind him and looked up to see his head of house mildly surprised and exasperated at seeing him sitting there in the hall not far at all from the door.

"I should have realized all this on my own," Neville said still distraught.

McGonagall stared down at him for a moment and then pressed her lips together tightly, as though she didn't trust herself to speak. Her eyes found their way back to him after a few pensive moments and Neville was surprised when she joined him in sitting on the floor.

"Neville, you have to go back in there. I know right now that you're overwhelmed—"

"Overwhelmed?" Neville repeated, laughing bitterly. "Overwhelmed? I just found out that the first time I had sex I sentenced a girl to death. Yeah, I'm overwhelmed."

There was a long silence and Neville had a feeling the silence wasn't for his benefit, but more because the woman sitting next to him didn't know what to say. That she—like him— was also at a loss.

"You're right to be angry," McGonagall sighed. "She should have told you. You had a right to know what the risks were. And you have every right to want a moment to yourself to process everything. But you don't have the luxury right now to do that, Neville. Because Graces needs you."

"I think Graces is at a moment in her life where she is deciding who she wants to be. Most of us walk a long, winding road on that journey. With a few stops and maybe a turn here and there, but always the same road. Always the same destination."

"You think she's going to change sides?" Neville asked hesitantly.

"Graces wouldn't be in my chambers asking me for help if she didn't plan on abandoning the road she was on. If she didn't plan to abandon all that her family has taught her."

Neville shook his head. "I made her go."

McGonagall smirked. "I highly doubt you can make that girl do anything she didn't want to do herself already, Neville."

Neville let out a small laugh despite himself. "What has she told you?"

McGonagall shook her head. "She said many things. She said she did something brave."

Neville wiped away a few tears from his face. "She's done quite a few brave things."

"I have no doubt." McGonagall looked out into the stones of the castle as though she could search for answers there. "I have a feeling Graces Malfoy may be one of the bravest young women I have ever met. And I don't think I know even a fraction of what she has done to get here. Judging from her scars she's survived a lot on her own. She doesn't need saving. She can save herself. The more I see of that girl the more I know that she has the valor to rise above all this. She just needs help, not saving, help."

"She's a fighter," McGonagall continued, seeming to be processing what just occurred herself. "I can tell. And, if she's anything like her father, she's a damn vicious one at that. The difference though in how you would fight and how she would fight is that she won't dive into a battle without a plan. No, she's too calculating for that. She wants to have an idea of a path before her and then she will make a move."

"And incentive," Neville murmured. He let out a breathy laugh. "Though I don't have an idea of what that incentive would be. Maybe she thinks our side could win after all."

McGonagall frowned and rose from the ground. Looking down at him and searching him for something.

"I believe you're the incentive, Mr. Longbottom."

Sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

Graces paced around the sitting room biting her nails as she waited for someone to return. She knew Neville was going to come back, she knew that. And when he did, she was going to hex his balls off for abandoning her like this. A small, tiny voice inside her head kept raising doubt on whether or not Neville would come back, but she drowned its voice in reason. Neville loved her, she knew he did, and he wasn't going to leave her. He wasn't going to leave her because when a guy like Neville Longbottom says that they will never leave they mean it. It's not pretty words; it's the truth. So she waited and ignored that hateful voice in her head. The one that doubted what she knew to be true.

But even though she knew Neville would come back to her, her heart still stopped when he walked back into the room. And she didn't dare move, speak or breathe until she knew whether he was there to stay. He didn't move toward her and for a fraction of a second that voice won and she thought he was going to end things. She would live the rest of her miserable life haunted by the memory of Neville and what she could have had with him.

"You should have told me," Neville declared, as though they had never stopped arguing, as though he hadn't been gone. "I know you've always kept secrets and I've respected them for the most part, but this one—" he stopped and she could tell he was furious."This one was wrong. This one I should have been aware of. I—what would I have done, Graces? How would I have lived if you had died because of me?" he asked hoarsely, his voice breaking as angry tears came cascading down. "Do you know what that would have done to me?"

"I feel like I forced this on you," he choked. "I wanted you, I-I pushed. I always pushed, even when you tried to put distance between us I pulled you back. You wanted to get away and I wouldn't let you. If I would have known." He shook his head. "I never would have let myself want you. You should have told me," he bemoaned.

Graces bit her lip. "I'm not sorry, Neville," she sputtered out, knowing she should apologize and beg for forgiveness, but unable to find it in herself to do so. "You wouldn't have stayed. You would have ended things immediately." She wiped away her own tears. "I needed you. Something inside me knew that I needed you, so I never told you. And each time I tried to end things with you I missed you more than I thought I could."

"I didn't expect to love you," Graces whispered. "Which was so stupid because I knew early on that I was falling in love with you." She looked up at the ceiling. "I knew so early on. It's why I wouldn't say your name, because I constantly wanted to remind myself that I couldn't love you."

"You can't be mad at me, Neville. I will not ask you to forgive me for lying, because I would do it again. But I will ask you to forgive me for being lost. You have to forgive me for being weak. You have to forgive me for wanting to love you, for wanting you to love me."

"You didn't want to love me," Neville countered. "And you certainly didn't want me to love you."

Graces took a step forward, as though to close all the distance between them, but stopped. She was too scared to try to touch him, too afraid he may reject her touch. "You did not force this on me. If I didn't want to love you I would have left. Can't you see that? I spoke strongly for one thing, but what were my actions, Neville? I always came back to you. I would lay there with you and you would do something so ordinary like hold my hand and my heart would flutter and I would take it away. I would push you away— too frightened to take what I wanted— but I was always so careful to not push you to the point where you would leave. I spent so much time not letting myself feel what I wanted to feel. Not letting myself see what was right in front of me."

"What if you die, Graces? We're not a very well kept secret. What if—"

"I did die," Graces proclaimed. The room stilled at her words and she felt as though the air around her were heavier. "I died," she whispered. "Physically and metaphorically. I died. Whoever I was before… I think she's gone." She looked up at Neville who seemed as though he were going to be sick.

"I don't know who I am anymore," she admitted, holding back her tears. "I look in the mirror and see a stranger with my face. I don't know who the girl is staring back at me, but she isn't the same. I don't know what that girl believes or what she wants and it terrifies me." She crossed the room unable to stand another moment of the distance between them. "But I know that she loves you, that I love you. I know I want to be by your side, regardless of the risks. I know that wherever you stand I want to stand beside you."

She watched as Neville wrestled with himself, she could tell he was torn between reaching out for her and wanting to disappear. She moved closer so their chests were barely touching and slowly brought her hands to his chest.

"I know the risks, Neville," she whispered, gently kissing his jaw. "I want this, with you. That is if you want this with me, of course," she quoted, hoping he remembered what she had said in the Greenhouse.

Neville let out a tearful laugh of recognition before enveloping her in his arms and placing a bruising kiss on her mouth. She laughed and cried against his lips and wound her arms around his neck, determined to not allow him to let her go. It was done. This was it and she felt so relieved and joyful at the thought. It had taken so long to get here, but they were here. She refused to stop kissing him and luckily for her Neville seemed to have no intentions of stopping either.

"You're so manipulative," Neville laughed against her lips, one hand wrapped solidly around her while the other was buried in her hair. "I will never win, will I?"

"Never," Graces swore, pulling him back in to kiss her. "But I swear you'll be happy."

"I'm already happy," Neville grinned. "I love you and you—"

"And I love you too," Graces smiled. His eyes softened at her words and she felt breathless looking up at him. She hadn't seen Neville happy like this in so long. She had missed this, his face open and joyful, lately it was hardened and weary. "I'm sorry it took so long for me to realize."

Neville shook his head. "I'm not."

"No," Graces challenged, raising a brow. "You don't wish I said it when you first proclaimed it?"

The corners of his mouth twitched slightly. "Would you have meant it then?"

Graces thought about it for a moment. "I don't know. Maybe," she whispered, wiping away another happy tear.

"I meant what I said, Graces. I didn't say it with the hopes you would say it back, or even with the dream that one day you would feel the same. What we had was enough." Neville paused for a moment and looked at her with more seriousness. "You can love Draco and me both, Graces. You know that right?" Graces nodded. "And you know that I don't mind if you can only love me privately should you not want to lose him."

Graces looked away thoughtfully. "It's not just that I love you, Neville. It's—I don't want to be a Death Eater. I don't want this life. I don't want it so much that I think often times of not living it." She looked up and saw clearly how much that statement wounded him, but if she was going to be honest she had to tell him this. "I need to change my life, Neville. And, I think, living my life for what I believe—what I truly believe—and who I love is a good start."

"Okay then," Neville nodded solemnly, looking hesitantly at the door where Graces now realized their Professor must have been outside of to allow them a bit of privacy. "Are you ready for this?"

Graces felt as though the air in the room had thickened. She didn't know if she was. "I think I have to be," she said hushly, chewing her lower lip. Neville nodded and moved to open the door.

"Neville," Graces called, causing him to pause. "You don't say a word. Not one word. You let me talk and explain. I can't have you being a part of it."

Neville frowned. "Why?"

"I don't want you to accidentally go against the unbreakable vow you made," she said tightly. "And I-I want to be able to tell Draco that you never told anyone our secrets. If he is to hate anyone I rather it be me, because there is hope maybe one day he will forgive me for this."

Neville's hand was now off the door completely. "How much are you planning to tell?" he asked cautiously.

Graces face construed as she tried to keep herself together. "A lot."

"How much is a lot?"

"Everything. Just—I won't talk about Graham. I owe Graham too much and I think he will do the right thing eventually, in his time, so I won't talk about him. But everything else."

Neville seemed to not be able to move. "Everything?" he breathed.

"Everything."

ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

I have been writing this fic since Oct. of 2013 and this scene has been a long time coming guys. And I sincerely want to thank the readers who have stuck it out six years and one month waiting for Graces to finally admit her feelings to Neville. Thank you. You guys are the best. This is the first thing I've ever written and the support I've gotten from this community has meant the world to me. I can't wait for you all to see where this goes! We have some seriously exciting things ahead in the chapters to come!