Special thanks to Denarii as always for editing and to eren is a dicc, amazinggurl,avery, thestrakBalerion, ThisAmethystHeart, Malfoy Mouth james-MMJ, Blindfox455, Redkitsune2016, Legendary Simp, Billy Eyelish (super flattered you think my fic's playlist could be her alblum I love her), anand891996, Bharm, infinateconstellations, infinateconstellations, pEdOs gO tO hELL, FENTYBEAUTYY, Ihatecarbonara, WAP, looney tunes, RIOSHO, Sam, Kim, and AnnyJackson19.

Kim- I plan for there to be more fics this is going to be a series, but I don't want to say what they will be about because I don't want to give spoilers for where this is all going.

Chapter 104

Neville chewed on the end of his nail as he re-read what was expected of him when he officially asked Graces to formally court. Apparently, him asking earlier wasn't proper. There was actually a particular way he was supposed to ask, an actual sequence of words he was supposed to say as well as a gift he was supposed to give. It also should have been done in the presence of one of her family members. There were also rules about the formal attire he was to wear and the colors that would be appropriate. Graces had delicately written a note on some of her stationary and tucked it into that chapter- apparently she had a preference for how his robes should be fitted and what colors she thought would showcase his features best. He shook his head and wondered at how much willpower it had taken Graces to bite her tongue and not point this all out when he had asked originally.

He held her note and prayed that tonight was going to go well. She and McGonagall were going to Higgs Manor to talk to John and Alethea and his stomach was in knots over it all. He knew that Graces was going to be safe, that McGonagall would never allow harm to come to her, but his mind kept drifting back to October. He felt like he should be going with her, McGonagall was going as a cat, he had asked if she could transform him so he could go too, but she was very firm on his not coming.

It was stupid. Him being there couldn't do anything. McGonagall was far more capable than he at keeping Graces safe if something went wrong. But the thought of her being far from him, in a place where he could not get to her made him sick with worry. If something happened in the castle he could get to her. He would get to her. Nothing would stop him from finding her and making sure she was safe, but he was helpless if she was so far from him.

I can't watch her every second of the day because I'm scared. That's not what Graces would want, that's not how I want to be.

Neville closed his eyes for a moment before flipping the page to continue reading. As he continued to read about what he would need to do to join with Graces he considered what he wanted after they were joined. He didn't want to be the kind of husband that felt the need to go everywhere Graces did, that checked on her, that thought because he was a man he was somehow responsible for her safety. He and Graces were to be equals, they would keep each other safe.

"What are you reading?"

Neville looked up at Hermione, the background of the common room continuing on around them as she moved to sit next to him on the windowsill. There was a hesitancy in her presence, but she continued to wait patiently for his reply.

"Go away."

"Neville," Hermione pleaded. "I know I made a mistake, but I want to make it right. You won't even look at me. I can't say a word to you without you becoming hostile towards me. How long is this going to go on?"

"Forever."

"You're going to hate me forever?" Hermione demanded, raising and dropping her hands in the air. "Forever."

Neville flipped to the middle of the book so Hermione couldn't see that he was reading about courting. "I don't hate you. I wouldn't devote that much energy into feeling something for you."

Hermione stilled at the words, but Neville didn't look up to see her reaction to them properly. He had learned a few things from Graces over their months together and feigning indifference over hatred was definitely a better move. It allowed more control, while the other person was left feeling more out of control. So with this in mind he pretended to be especially interested in his book and waited for Hermione to leave.

"You sound like Graces."

Neville snorted. "Graces would say she hates you and then blatantly list all her reasons why. She thrives on animosity. It invigorates her."

He could feel Hermione's eyes on him and it took an immense amount of effort on his part not to fidget under it. He was steadily becoming more impressed with Graces' skill.

"You say that as though you enjoy that about her," Hermione said quietly.

"What I do and do not enjoy about Graces Malfoy is none of your business."

"Neville, is this what you want?" Hermione whispered moving closer to him. "This can't be what you want. Don't miss your friends? Being a part of everyone's everyday life?"

"What exactly do you think that I miss?" Neville asked angrily, his facade slipping completely. "Being the pity invite to hang out? The chubby background character that provides comic relief with his own stupidity?"

"I actually quite like being the main character in my own life," Neville clipped, closing the book entirely and setting it down. "Don't sit there and tell me what I do and do not want. I know what I want and who I want."

Hermione shook her head at him sadly. "Is that what this is? You're lonely? You—you don't feel like you're important?"

"No, of course not."

"That's what you just said."

"No. You're listing things you think that I am missing, and I'm pointing out that there is nothing to miss."

"You think your life is going to be good with Graces Malfoy?" Hermione asked. "Being her dirty secret? Being manipulated? I saw first hand how she treats you and Ron told me you wake up multiple times at night. That you go to the loo, but he can tell you're upset and—"

"Keep your bloody voice down," Neville hissed. "You're talking to Ron about me?"

"He's noticed a change, Hannah's noticed a change too," Hermione added. "She told me about what happened in muggle studies and—"

"I'm sorry, what exactly happened in muggle studies?" Neville scowled, this all being news to him.

"She tried to talk to you, to make things right about what occurred in Herbology, clear the air and you just brushed her off. And then told her to stop touching you."

"I told her not to worry about it," Neville stated flatly. "And yes, when she had her hand on my arm I told her that I would prefer her to not touch me so much. I didn't think that this interaction really warranted gossiping to you about it."

"Well, it hurt her feelings," Hermione said quietly. "You two used to be friends and now you ignore her completely. She's tried multiple times to be close to you again and you just freeze her out. And I don't think that's your doing. I think that's Graces. Can't you see she's isolating you from everyone, Neville? You have no one outside of her. You don't even have time for Luna anymore. And I've noticed the books," Hermione added.

"I highly doubt that you on your own became so interested in pureblood culture. You're reading all about family history and traditions. Why would she want you reading those things, Neville? Can't you see what she's doing?"

Neville stared at Hermione for a long time.

"I don't give a damn if I hurt Hannah's feelings. I have a right to my own person and autonomy. If I was a girl and said I would prefer to not be touched there would be no questions asked. Hannah needs to get over me. I don't want to be her boyfriend and I won't want her to touch me. As for the books, I can read whatever the bloody hell I want to read."

"Where are you going?"

"Away from you."

Neville quickly went up the stairs to the 6th floor boys' room. His heart was racing furiously in his chest and he had an insane need—not desire, it was a need—to hit something. He slammed the door and paced on the floor of his room. A rational part of him argued he needed to calm down, that he should appreciate that Hermione cared about him. That she was only acting off what she saw and thus her concerns were valid. But another part of him, the part that he would rather listen to, pointed out that she would not have had any impression of him and Graces if she hadn't been spying on him.

That even with what she saw she should still trust that he would never turn on his own morality and beliefs. Hermione's concern now only meant one thing, that she didn't trust him. That she thought he could turn his back on people like her who would suffer if Voldemort regained power. He had said no. Hermione saw him say no, she saw him broken up into pieces afterwards too.

He thought about the days after Valentine's day, when Graces had said they were over. Agony wasn't even the correct word to describe it. His chest had felt as though it were caved in on itself. He always thought heartache was just a term, he didn't realize it was an actual physical feeling. There was nothing dramatic when people said they had heartache, they did. It was a real, tangible pain that you carried throughout the day that would intensify at any moment it chose. He really thought it may be over. He wouldn't admit it, even then, because the pain of it would have overwhelmed him, but it really felt like it could have been the end.

He would have never loved anyone the way he loved Graces. The rest of his life would have been spent pining for her and remembering their time together. Merlin, at the time he wasn't even able to fall asleep unless he closed his eyes and pretended that they were still together. That she never asked him to take the Mark, that he never denied her. He had gone through all that and Hermione still suspected him.

"Neville?"

He turned to see Harry standing in the doorway and quickly looked away. He wiped away a few tears and shook his head.

"Hermione's crying," Harry said quietly. "She just ran out of the common room in tears."

"Good."

"Neville," Harry whispered. "Talk to me. I need you to talk to me. The whole school is talking about Graces attacking Hermione and—"

"Are they talking about how before that Hermione pulled her wand on me? How before that she took Graces' satchel and was about to rummage through it?" Neville demanded.

"You and I both know that's not how the gossiping works."

"Yeah, well, it doesn't sound like Hermione is trying to set the record straight," Neville pointed out bitterly.

Harry let out a frustrated sigh. "Hermione did tell me that part. She told me that Graces lied about not having your notes, she saw them clear as day in her bag, but that you wouldn't even listen to a word she said. She thinks Graces is manipulating you and she doesn't know what to do about it."

"Graces is not manipulating me," Neville scoffed. "I knew she was lying and had my notes. She just wanted to keep them. She apparently likes the drawings I make in the margins," Neville muttered rolling his eyes. "Hannah was purposely being mean and Hermione made things worse."

"I know she's not manipulating you," Harry said, moving so he was closer to Neville. "But Hermione doesn't know everything that I know. From what she knows that's how this all looks. It looks like Graces enjoys using your feelings against you. She doesn't know all the other stuff."

"She says that you two had a row and you won't even let her apologize and anytime she talks to you she is immediately met with animosity. And I've seen that first hand, Neville. Tell me what has Hermione done that is so unforgivable that you can't treat her like a person."

"She spied on me, and Graces too," Neville added softly, his stomach already turning as he remembered the violation.

"I spied on Graces," Harry recalled.

"Yeah, well, you didn't watch me fuck her," Neville snapped.

Harry's mouth popped open and his eyes fluttered about for a few moments before he let out a very anti-climatic 'oh'.

"Yeah, oh," Neville repeated bitterly, shaking his head. He ran a hand through his hair and took a moment to regather himself. To try and rail in this misdirected anger. "That was crass," he rasped, embarrassed and ashamed. "I didn't—" He waved his hand around. "—I mean we had sex, but I didn't—it wasn't like—"

Harry made some gesture to let Neville know he understood, but really didn't want him to continue.

"So that's what's so unforgivable," Harry whispered.

Neville's face contorted and he looked up as though beseeching the heavens for answers. "No, that's not it. I think I could actually forgive that."

Neville damned himself for already being in tears. "I took Graces on a date and we talked… I told her all kinds of things that I wouldn't tell anyone else. And I—" Neville bit his tongue. He didn't want to tell Harry about his parents house. "She should have left. She shouldn't have spied at all, but she should have left when she realized how intimate the date was for me."

"So how long has Hermione known about you two?" Harry asked slowly. "And... why is it that she still seems to feel Graces' feelings aren't genuine? She honestly believes Graces is trying to hurt you, Neville. I know that's not true, but she has to have a reason for believing that. I don't think she would just think that solely because of her last name."

Neville wasn't sure how to answer that. He believed that most of Hermione's feelings were already made prior to everything she saw when they were back at the castle. "She only had a brief glimpse of the two of us and Graces that day she—she asked me to—"

He stopped and thought of the mess it would create if he told Harry Graces had asked him to take the Mark. He glanced up at Harry and then realized that the support he now had would be gone.

"She asked you to take the Mark," Harry said gently, nudging the conversation on. "Graces told me about that."

"She did?"

"Yeah, she did. She's very peeved at you for picking me," Harry grinned, clearly trying to ease some of the tension. "I should tell her it's the eyes and that you've been sleeping with me for the past six years and with her for only one. And not even every night."

Neville laughed. In the midst of everything he was surprised the emotion could overtake him, but it did.

"You wish your eyes were as pretty as hers."

He looked over at Harry and there was so much patience and understanding in his eyes. He suddenly wanted to know what all Graces had told him, it seemed as though she had told him a lot more than he could have ever guessed. Harry not only was aware of his relationship with her, he was supportive of it. Harry didn't want him to leave her, or question his feelings regarding her and he seemed to offer the same support to Graces regarding him.

"Obviously, I didn't do it," Neville gestured, his sleeves were rolled off displaying his bare forearms. "But Hermione—" He shook his head. "—she acts like I'm going to, like I could be swayed."

Harry nodded and ran his hand through his already messy hair. He seemed to want to say something, but was trying to find the words.

"Hermione has been asking a lot of questions about you lately. She's noticed the books and she's a bit concerned."

"What has she been saying?" Neville demanded.

Harry shrugged and seemed disinclined to answer. "Nothing obvious. Just 'why do you think Neville's reading that?', 'That's a different book from yesterday.' She apparently bought a copy of one book and told me and Ron that it is very anti-marriages between muggles and the magical community."

"I'm not stupid reading this," Neville declared, holding the book up for Harry to see. "It does blame mixed marriages for the loss of traditions in our world. But I'm smart enough to remember that the reasoning that culture was lost was because of us. Purebloods pushed for the statute of secrecy to not allow for muggles to know of this world until after they were married. I understand what that did. It wasn't about keeping us safe. It was about punishment for dating someone that wasn't magical, punishment for marrying someone magical."

Neville chewed the inside of his lip. "So you marry someone who isn't magical and then that night you destroy everything they knew of you. They find out you lied about your job, your schooling, family, religion, where you grew up, everything. Then the question is what do you do? Do you ask this person you have lied to, to accept your world, that they can't be a part of? No. You do everything you can to make them comfortable, to make up for your lies. You adopt their traditions, not just because you feel badly, but because how are they going to participate in our traditions without magic? All our rituals have magic involved. That's without mentioning that their family can't come to our world for holidays, or even know that their daughter, sister, brother, married a magical person. No, better to go to the muggle world and all be together."

"I can read this book and see how it's manipulating the truth. Purebloods damned their own culture by refusing to make it easy for muggleborns to integrate, by refusing to make mixed marriages easier, by refusing to be progressive with our own. Graces is less important to her family than Draco is. Some purebloods refuse to name a girl as their heir entirely. The Ministry still upholds laws dictated by the pureblood community that punish family members for stepping out of line. Whoever is the patriarch of the family can make decisions for everyone below them. Doesn't matter their age or temperament. And it's okay to kick your own child out of the family for something you deem unforgivable, or render your own daughter barren," Neville rasped tightly.

"So why are you reading the books then? Is that Graces? Or a genuine interest?"

"A little of both," Neville shrugged. "Graces cares about this stuff. Tradition. And not all the traditions are bad. Nothing wrong with culture and religion, when it's not hurting someone." Neville swallowed. "Graces is doing a lot so she and I can be together. So I wanted to do something too. Show her I'm serious about her, about us."

"I, uh, asked Graces to formally court... once we tell Draco," Neville added quickly. "She sent all the books because there's a lot of rituals and etiquette that I don't know because I'm a dirty blood traitor. But it matters to Graces, she wants all of it, she wants to do things proper."

Harry wrinkled his nose. "I-I'm sorry, Neville, I don't quite follow. What does it mean to formally court?"

"Dating with the intention of being joined, married. We would court, which is a bit more formal than dating, and during that courtship at certain times of the year we would go through a ritual. Each ritual is designed to help us become closer and understand each other better, as well as continue to challenge us, ensure we really should be getting married. At the end of it then we would be joined."

"So… you're engaged?"

"No," Neville stated firmly. "No. Erm, it's not like that. It's serious, but we wouldn't be engaged until after a year of rituals."

"So you're engaged to be engaged."

Neville bit his lower lip. "There's dating, which purebloods see as frivolous. Really, for strict families, they would find this unacceptable. Ron and Lavender are a good example. Too passionate too early, no supervision, nothing serious intended, no family involvement. Courting, which is seen by purebloods like you see dating, but with more supervision and rules, so none of their kids end up tossing about like Ron and Lavender. There's a chaperone for dates, but other than that the couple is free to get to know one another without many other restrictions. And formally courting which is seen as seriously dating. It also has more rules, and more family involvement since they see it as a slow merging of two families. Its design is to test the waters of a joining between more than just the couple, but the family. Thus the family is a part of every ritual almost. One of the first rituals is three months of separation. During that time, I don't get to see Graces at all really. We can write and there's a family dinner once a week, if allowable. During that time I get to know the family. The time I would have spent with Graces I spend with them. So, in this case, Draco."

"And you want to do that?" Harry asked skeptically.

"Yeah, I do. I really do," Neville nodded, a small smile coming to his lips. "I like the idea of our families coming together. I love Graces and Draco is such a big part of her, not just her life, her. I want him to be included. I like the idea of him being involved and I'm also hoping that this can repair some of the damage done by how Graces and I came together. This secret has destroyed her relationship with Draco. I don't want her to have to fix that alone."

Harry's lips pinched together and he nodded along. He looked up at Neville unsurely, clearly at a loss to all of this. Neville wondered if it was all just too strange for him or if he didn't approve.

Neville let out a sigh. "This is the part where you congratulate me," Neville chuckled, pushing Harry's arm and hoping that his friend still supported him. He suddenly realized just how desperately he wanted support on this. "Congratulations, Nev. May there be a joining."

"You're just so young."

"I'd be twenty-two by the time we were joined."

Harry blinked at that and then stared down at his shoes pensively. Neville frowned, but didn't press his friend.

"My mum was 21 when she died," Harry murmured quietly. "I never really thought about that. She must have married and had me quite young."

As quickly as the look had overtaken Harry it faded away. "Congratulations, Neville. May there be a joining." Harry shook his head. "Graces Malfoy. Merlin, who would have ever thought."

"Me," Neville grinned.

"I don't think you would have even imagined this before this year," Harry pointed out.

Neville chuckled to himself. "No, but there was a moment at the Yule Ball where I definitely noticed her."

"Really?" Harry asked, laughing.

Neville shook his head and flushed beet red. "Yeah. She was dancing with someone, probably Draco, and she was laughing and she was wearing that dress that had that slit up the side and- and then I very quickly reminded myself that I was looking at Malfoy. Now I wish I could go back and take a better look."

"Neville," Harry said earnestly. "Why not tell Hermione everything? She knows about you two, why not set the record straight with her. It would surely make things easier and you two could possibly be friends again."

"No, we couldn't be," Neville swore venomously. "She should trust me now without the knowledge. She has been my friend since first year, she was my first friend that I made here. I was her first friend. I could not believe how nice she was to help me look for Trevor on the train, this girl who barely knew me. That's six years of friendship, Harry. For six years I thought she knew me. When I would get down on myself she was the one to comfort me. When I needed help in classes she always partnered up with me. She knows about my parents. Damn it all, she saw my mum. And I carried her body in the Ministry," Neville reminded quietly.

Neville shrugged. "I know I'm not Hermione's best mate. You and Ron are, I realized very quickly that while she was my best friend, I wasn't hers."

"Neville," Harry said comfortingly.

Neville waved him off. "I'm not her best friend, that's fine. But I thought we were good friends. I thought she at least knew me. Knew me enough to know I wouldn't take the Mark for any reason." Neville took a long suffering breath. "If I tell Hermione everything then we really won't ever be friends."

"I don't think that's how it is," Harry implored. "I think Hermione does know you and I think she knows what having someone like Graces must mean to you."

"No, I get that," Neville nodded. "And she thinks that I could be so desperate to not be alone that I would let people die."

"That you could be so in love that you lose sight of who you are," Harry corrected.

Neville shook his head. "She doesn't believe I love her though. She thinks that Graces is tricking me and I am allowing for her womanly ways to persuade me."

"Neville, I probably would have thought that too had I not spoken to Graces."

"I don't want to tell Hermione," Neville stated firmly. "For so many reasons I don't want to tell her. I think she should trust me, I hate that she spied on me, and I feel a need to protect myself and Graces from her."

"What if Hermione tells?" Harry challenged. "Graces won't be safe if she tells."

"She won't do that."

"She is really worried."

"Then she tells who? McGonagall who knows? Dumbledore who knows? You? Those are the people she would tell and they all know."

"You're going to take that chance? I know you love Graces, Neville. And I can't imagine how devastated you would be if something happened to her and you could have prevented it."

Neville hesitated, briefly giving the validity of what Harry was saying some consideration before dismissing it. "I'm not telling Hermione anything. Neither are you. This is my business."

Harry twisted his mouth and shook his head exasperatedly, before breathing out a fine. "I don't agree with this, Neville. I think you're making a mistake. I think it is malice, like you want Hermione to continue to worry and hurt."

Neville snorted, not liking the idea that he could want that, but unable to pretend that he absolutely didn't. "I have enough on my plate at the moment without having to care about Hermione and her feelings."

"Like what?"

"What?"

"What other things do you have on your plate," Harry spelled out.

Neville rubbed the back of his neck and just shook his head. "Things," he said quietly.

Harry nodded and became very interested in the post of the bed for a while. "I know there's probably a lot you can't tell me," Harry began, still not quite meeting Neville's eyes. "But I think there are a few things you could tell me. You've made it clear that you won't talk about Draco, or details of the situation Graces is in. But you could tell me how you're feeling, why you seem to not be able to sleep through the night."

"You going to tell me why you can't?" Neville asked flatly.

"I think the reasons why I can't are pretty damn clear," Harry pointed out, his voice patient despite Neville's. "I can spell it all out for you, but it's pretty obvious what my bad dreams would be."

Neville swallowed and tried to think of a reason why he couldn't just allow himself to trust someone. He honestly felt like he was talking too much with people regarding his feelings. He hated how suddenly everyone seemed to want to know how he felt and yet he hadn't really told anyone much.

"When I'm not around Graces, I mean when I cannot physically see her," Neville clarified, his finger moving about in front of him as though he were showing Harry something written on a chalkboard "I-I don't even know. I feel scared? Distressed?" Neville scowled knowing that didn't make sense. "That doesn't make sense. I don't know what this feeling is. I keep thinking odd thoughts. Like odd scenarios come into my head. I'll just be sitting there and everything will be fine and suddenly I am worried out of my mind that something has happened to her."

"Do you feel this way now?" Harry asked.

Neville nodded and looked away. Now that he said it out loud he felt even more foolish for the feeling. Knowing it was foolish didn't change the fact he felt that way though and he did have reasons to worry about Graces, especially tonight, but he would be lying if he said he didn't always feel this way. He didn't even really know how long this had been going on. Maybe a little in October, but it wasn't like this. No, it didn't get this bad until Graces had gotten bad and then it felt beyond his control when he found out everything.

"What does Graces say?"

Neville gave Harry a quick look that made it clear he didn't tell Graces and had no plans to tell her either.

"I think Graces would want to know this."

"I know my feelings are stupid," Neville said bitterly, damning himself for being so ridiculous to have them in the first place. "I'm not going to worry Graces over something stupid."

"I don't think she will think—"

"Let's sit here for a few moments and think about what Graces has gone through in this past year, or even what you have had to go through and I am sitting here telling you I get anxious when she isn't around," Neville scoffed. "It's bloody pathetic."

"I think it's fair to say you've gone through your own fair amount of shit too," Harry pointed out.

Neville shook his head and tried not to go through the checklist of tragedy that Graces had been subjected to this year. It was no wonder she was so unhinged, he however, he couldn't be. He needed to be strong for the both of them, he couldn't get all out of sorts over stupid things. His mind drifted back to Graces leaving the castle again and he tried to suppress his worry over her being so far. He reminded himself again that John and Alethea were the defenceless ones in this situation. Graces and McGonagall were both powerful and capable of protecting themselves.

"Neville," Harry murmured quietly. "How about you and I go to the kitchens, get something to eat from the house elves, and then come back and play a game of exploding snap or chess."

Neville paused for a few seconds before asking Harry how he knew where the kitchens were.

"I'll tell you on the way," Harry smirked. "Come on."

Neville's first inclination was to decline, but then he realized he had nothing else to do anyways. All he was going to do was sit on his bed and fret over Graces and read. He looked up at Harry and nodded unsurely. He didn't know if he liked this. Harry knowing so much regarding him, but as they left the common room he realized he did like feeling as though he had a friend again.

Sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

"Ollie, want to try your pusher? Here, look. Look." John tried in vain to get Octavian to try the baby walker he and Alethea had got him. It wasn't too early to use it, it just seemed that Octavian preferred to use the couch and the couch alone to stand and take very shaky attempts at steps. "Oi, look at this, Ollie. Look. Look." He made a gasping sound. "Do you see how it lights up? You want to try?"

Ollie made a squeal of delight and continued on with holding the couch and slobbering all over the upholstery. John sighed and realized he had his answer to what Octavian wanted and it was what looked to be an exceptionally expensive couch that was in the manor. He leaned against the sofa and once again missed his own home. It was strange living in a mansion, he had never really thought he would be spending his nights in an estate like this, much less living in one.

Even when he went on holiday with Alethea they had never stayed in such posh places. They had holidayed in cozy bed and breakfasts, a few nicer hotels, but never in his life had he even for a night called a place like this home. Even now it didn't feel like a home. It was large and empty. From what he could tell there had been life in it once. He looked about at the photos upon photos placed delicately on mantles, end tables, and all other areas of display, all happy faces bunched together like bouquets to capture a moment that was now long gone.

Whatever warmth that was in this house once was now cold like the bodies that had lived in it. He didn't want to be here and he didn't want Thomas here. No, it would be better for them all to be away. And he really believed that Thomas would be happy in his home. He and Alethea didn't live lavishly, but they lived much more than comfortably. Thomas would have his own room, as would Octavian, and they would be far away from the expectations that this world imposed on such young boys. They could be children in his and Alethea's house, free to act and feel as children should.

And Thomas could walk away from the guilt he carried of not being what this world expected him to be, of not shouldering the burdens imposed on him, of not wanting fatherhood. John sighed heavily at that thought. Thomas was a sweet boy, a sharp boy too. At first it had disturbed him slightly, being around a child that would quietly observe him from a distance, but in time he had realized that as stoic as Thomas could be, it didn't take much more than a small amount of his trust to get to his real temperament.

Thomas was an easy child to fall in love with when he allowed himself to be a child. He enjoyed games, walks around the estate, and had a curious mind. They seemed to always be exchanging books when he came home for the weekends. Thomas enjoyed his "muggle literature" as he called it and he was quite happy with the collection Thomas brought him. Sometimes it was on Goblin or Elf history, Thomas had laughed himself silly when he had read some of John's fantasy books. Other times it was potion books or other things he was studying, not that John could ever accomplish what Thomas could, but he had made it clear that he would like to know what it was Thomas was studying. He thought it best so that he could ask more appropriate questions about his day.

But as much as he was in awe of this world, it didn't feel like home. Not just because of the large estate and the magic, he thought he could get used to all that, but because Alethea was miserable here. She didn't rejoice in Thomas' school accomplishments the way he did, she just smiled and nodded tightly, still so bitter about what she thought she lacked. He did understand it. There were times when he was frustrated with her for not just accepting that this was what it was and she should just move on, but at the same time he understood her. This world was a prison for her and after much talking he realized that maybe the best thing to do was move everyone to their world, to their home.

Alethea could be happy at home where she was successful and highly respected. He had always admired Alethea's drive. It was one of the things that had made him fall so desperately in love with her, but now he saw it for what it really was. It was a fierce determination to prove herself. She had always needed to be the best, her career was a testament to the hours of dedication she put towards that goal, but now here he saw that all those hours, all those accomplishments were nothing. He didn't think Alethea would ever accept herself, not in the way that was healthy. She would always feel less in comparison to witches. And here Thomas would always carry the guilt of not wanting to be a father. He would always walk through the doors and stare at this little soul and never feel like it was his and then hate himself for it.

But it didn't need to be that way. John nodded in determination, picking up Octavian and deciding that it was time to tuck him away to bed. He went through the nightly routine, not bothering to get Alethea who he had a feeling desperately needed a few hours without the baby. A house elf came and aided him, fussing over how she could do it all and was not needed. Sometimes John had a feeling the elves didn't want him touching Octavian at all, like he was tainting the child by loving and caring for him. They had made it quite clear they felt he tainted the house. Yes, leaving would be a wonderful thing for him too.

He was just walking towards one of the libraries when he heard the loud thump of someone portkeying into the entryway.

"Thomas?" He called, hurrying towards the sound and wondering as to why Thomas would be here on a weeknight. "Thomas? Is everything okay?"

He halted as he stepped into the room. It was a girl, a young girl holding a cat. She stood standing in front of him, staring at him as though she were evaluating something under his skin. She had a presence about her that made even the grandeur of the room seem small. He took a step back as those gray eyes pierced through him.

"Good evening," she greeted, her voice carrying into the quietness.

"Good evening," he repeated, blinking a few times and trying to figure out who this girl must be and why she was here in this house. "Are—are you a friend of Thomas? He isn't here presently, he's at school."

"Yes, I know," the girl nodded, gently putting the cat down on the floor beside her as she began taking off her cloak. A house elf appeared just as she placed her hand out, as though it was not a question of if someone would come to attend to her. She made no motion of thanks to the creature either, just looked about the hall for a moment as though she were expecting someone. John took a step forward and the girl stilled. Her eyes went back to him and for a moment he thought he saw a flash of fear in her features, but as quickly as it had come it was now gone.

She looked him over though and there was something in her expression that was more akin to uncertainty. He offered her a nervous smile, but she couldn't seem to muster one to return. She looked away for a moment, before turning back to him.

"My name is Graces. Graces Malfoy."

"Graces!" John grinned, enthusiastically waving at the girl to come more in. "Thomas has told me all about you. Come in, come in."

She nodded, coming forward out of the grand entryway and towards the sitting room that was littered with all assortments of Octavian's toys. She frowned slightly at the mess and with a single snap of her finger summoned a house elf. She took a seat as the elf bustled about and continued to survey the room. John wasn't sure how to react. He looked over at the distraught house elf and back to Graces.

"Octavian was just in here, we were playing. Children tend to be a bit messy," he explained, frowning at himself for even offering the explanation. For even being embarrassed.

"Of course," Graces nodded. "I do not blame you or him for the mess. I will make sure the elves are more diligent in the future. This isn't acceptable at all." She frowned slightly. "Did any of them come and notify you of my arrival even?"

"Uh, no," John admitted, watching as the house elf's eyes widened slightly. He was about to mention that the elfs didn't really speak to him at all, but realized that may get the poor creatures in even more trouble. "I, erm, don't see any reason for you to involve yourself though. Frankly, it's—"

"I am the acting matriarch of this family until Thomas turns sixteen," Graces stated patiently, trying to push off her cat as it jumped on her as she spoke. She scowled at the animal as though confused by its behavior, but looked back up at him after a moment.

John scowled. "Isn't Alethea—"

"No."

John bit his cheek before asking if the reason she wasn't was because she wasn't a witch.

Graces looked down at her hands for a moment before nodding simply.

"Right," John whispered. "Well, the house is in order. Maybe not to your standards, but we're a bit more casual."

The blonde blinked in surprise. "Did I offend you? I didn't mean to offend."

She stared up at him from that sofa with her wide gray eyes and aghast expression and he believed her. He shook his head and reminded himself that he didn't know much about this world or about the people in it other than Thomas. He watched as Graces' mouth twisted and she seemed to be trying to find words.

"Sorry, I just—" He sighed. "How about some tea, huh? Tea, and I bet I can find a tin of biscuits. And you can tell me why you're here once we have something warm in our hand."

Graces smiled tightly at the suggestion and then asked where Alethea was.

"She's in one of the libraries, I'll go fetch her."

"Perhaps we could talk alone for a bit. Please," she added, waiting for his answer on bated breath.

John didn't understand why this girl wanted to speak to him privately, but he agreed. He left for the kitchens and returned with a pot and three cups, for when Alethea did arrive, and a saucer of cream for that cat. He set the tray down on the table in the middle and picked the cat up from the floor offering her a bit of meat from dinner that night.

Graces stared up in horror. "She—she doesn't like strangers," Graces stammered. "She—"

"Never met a cat I couldn't charm," John laughed, sitting down and continuing to try and coax the cat to take a bite of the treat. It fought to get away, but he repositioned his hold dragging his hand down it's spine. Graces fingers pressed firmly on her mouth, her horror seemed to be fading slightly to amusement. All amusement was gone though when the cat viciously swiped at him as he tried to scratch the lower back by the tail.

The cat ran and perched on the sofa's arm nearest to Graces and the young girl stared up as though expecting a scolding. When none came she refocused her attention back to him, darting a quick glance at the cat before continuing.

"She's a very particular cat," she said in way of apology. John waived his hand dismissively and set the cream near the cat and handed Graces the tea and saucer. The blonde took a polite sip before setting the tea down.

"Mr—" She paused and fiddled with a ring on her finger, as she bit her lip nervously. "I'm so sorry I don't know your last name. Thomas just calls you John and—"

"John is fine."

Graces glanced about slightly. "I don't think that's appropriate," she finally said. "I don't want to be disrespectful."

John laughed. "Witches and Wizards are quite formal I'm finding out."

Graces smiled tightly at that. "We are."

"Why is that?"

The blonde frowned slightly and seemed to consider the question. "It's complicated. I think there is quite a division in our world. Erm, pureblood culture is more formal, I think to distinguish ourselves from the others. Also, to hold on to our ways. I think sometimes it also is this—I don't know—it's a way to make things easy? We know the rules for every situation and how to respond appropriately. It's also just a way to show respect."

John leaned back on the sofa opposite of Graces and considered what she said. There was quite a lot that he understood but a few things he didn't. "Pureblood culture?"

Graces blinked, her gray eyes turning darker with a mixture of pity and worry. "How much has Alethea told you about our world? More specifically how you would be treated in it? Or better yet what would happen if you were found here?"

"Found here?" John laughed. "You say that as though I should be hiding."

The humor in his words faded as he stared at the girl in front of him. Her expression let him know in that moment that not only should he be hiding, but that his being here was dangerous.

"Did she tell you how her family died?"

John sat up and placed his tea down, leaning forward slightly. "Not really. I mean, she said they had been killed, but didn't offer much detail into that. I have a feeling you're going to tell me a bit more."

"And you didn't ask for more detail? That many people died and you didn't want to know more?"

John blinked. "H-how many died?"

"Too many," Graces whispered, her silver eyes unwavering. "Have you ever seen how many blooms there are on a cherry blossom? That many."

John tried to comprehend that number. He searched his head for a way to make that information make sense. Surely this was an exaggeration. He thought of his own family tree and—

"The Higgs are purists. Exceptionally strict in many ways. One of which is birth control," Graces stated as though reading his mind. "They don't use it, at all. Or any other methods of restricting birth. Has Alethea never told you how many siblings she has alone? Witches and wizards also live longer, so her family is—was—quite large. The Higgs were one of the vastest magical dynasties in the world, spanning every content. Their influence in our world was exceptionally grand. Their political power is what kept most families' ability to be neutral in the last war without repercussion."

John shook his head. "Alethea doesn't—" He took a deep breath and tried to wrap his head around all this. "She doesn't talk about her family. And Thomas—"

"It's very painful for Thomas," Graces whispered. "He didn't even accept what happened at first and there was a period before the funeral, even a bit after where he seemed… hollow."

"Sometimes he's still that way," John murmured. There were so many things that Graces had said so casually that he was just lost over: war, neutral, longer lifespans, magical dynasties. He was ignorant, ignorant of a world that had been beside him his whole life. Ignorant of a world he was living in now. Ignorant of what the children he was helping to raise were going through.

"John." John turned at the sound of Alethea's voice. "John, get away from her."

The older man scowled at the fear he heard in her voice. He looked over at Graces and found the girl's disposition changed completely. There was nothing soft about the girl sitting across from him. There was nothing girlish at all about the girl any longer. And now that he looked he wondered if there ever was to begin with.

"Are you going to tell him why now?" Graces asked, her words falling like snow.

"John," Alethea whispered, moving closer to him.

Graces shook her head. "What exactly could you do at this point? I am here."

"Please," Alethea whispered her attention now solely on Graces.

"Tell him," Graces said simply.

"Tell me what?" John demanded, looking between them.

"Do you know why she's frightened of me?" Graces asked, standing up and pressing her dress outward as though to smooth some wrinkles. "Because I am Graces Malfoy and if she was honest about this world and the dangers that lurk here for you, you would have known the moment I said my name earlier in the entryway that I am dangerous."

Graces looked back at Alethea. "You brought a lamb into our world and never explained to look out for the wolves."

John stood and moved to Alethea. He tried to comfort her, but she never moved her tear filled eyes from the gray ones glaring back at her. Graces took a step forward and he was surprised at the jolt of fear that hit him.

She smirked. "I'm not going to hurt you," she promised, rescinding her step. "Either of you. My father would have. He would have killed you the moment he saw you. Well, maybe not the moment of," she whispered. "No, he likes to torture people before he kills them."

John, despite Graces' promise, found himself moving Alethea more behind him at her words. Graces noted the movement and that look of pity came and replaced the one of rage.

"John, what do you think you could do?" she asked. "It's comical how easy it would be for me to kill you. Actually, killing you would be the kinder of things I could do to you."

The cat hissed at it's owner, as though sensing that what she said was cruel, but Graces ignored it.

"In one spell I could control you. I could make you kill Alethea, then have you go up to Octavian's room and kill him with your bare hands. The newspapers would have a field day with the story, it would be used as propaganda to get more and more witches and wizards to join the Dark Lord. Muggle man kills squib and heir to the Higgs line." Graces placed her hands out as though displaying the headline.

She lowered her hands slowly and he did his best to not look as horrified as he felt. He tried to think of what he could do, what he could grab as a weapon. His eyes wandered to the fireside and he considered if he could move quickly enough to the tools to grab the cast iron poker or perhaps the—

Graces' cat was now standing between him and the fireside. Looking up at him warningly as if it knew what he was thinking. He looked hesitantly at Graces who was as calm as ever. She seemed amused at the idea of him trying to fight back. He tensed and thought of what to do and a low growl came from the cat, reminding him of the other set of eyes watching.

"John," Alethea breathed. "That is not a cat."

He was going to ask what else it could be, but he stopped himself. He knew that answer. It was a person, another witch.

"Calm down," Graces sighed tiredly. "Like I said, I am not going to hurt you."

"I am not my father," she whispered, as though to remind herself just as much as to ensure him. "You're really lucky that it is me standing before you."

"Get out," John ordered.

"No," Graces declared, her body rigid as she stood firmly where she stood.

"No I have given too much of myself to ensure that this family lives," Graces spat savagely.

"Planning a funeral and decorating a nursery is hardly what I would call a sacrifice," Alethea sneered.

"Is that all you think I did?" Graces asked dangerously.

"I died for you," Graces whispered, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "You were not to live."

"I went to the Dark Lord and I begged for your lives. I paid for your lives!" she roared.

"I was tortured for hours! Hours!" Graces screamed, pulling at her clothes as if they were on fire. "I was beaten until my bones cracked, my organs bled and I welcomed an end. Any end!" John took a step back as a series of scars riddling her abdomen and side came to view after she slammed her shift to the ground.

"And then, after, I suffered for days. Because a point was to be made," she sneered, her teeth bared against some figure they couldn't see. She crossed the room so she was toe to toe with Alethea. "I paid the price for your lives. The least you could do is not be stupid enough to throw it away. Especially when it's not just your life you're gambling with. It's all of ours! Mine included!"

Graces shoved something into the other woman's hand and John stared in horror as he realized it was an eye. A glass eye, her eye. She turned to him and he tried not to look at the hollow void of flesh.

"You seem like a nice man, like a good man," Graces murmured. "But you need to understand what this world is and the danger you put Thomas, Octavian, Alethea and I in by being here."

Graces looked past him to stare at Alethea. "And you're going to tell him."

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There was a lot of yelling. Graces sat cradling her cup of tea as John and Alethea continued to yell at one another. McGonagall had moved closer to her and she knew that her professor was watching her, but she refused to acknowledge her. Instead she listened to Alethea fumbling to explain herself and John's righteous anger.

"You should have told me. How could you not tell me!"

Graces flinched as John's words rang in her as Neville's had. As Alethea's next words of how 'she couldn't' felt so real to her own feelings.

"Alethea," John said firmly, trying and failing to regain his composure. "This is not just you and I. There are three children here. You are asking me to risk three innocent lives, for what? So we can be under the same roof?"

Graces looked up at the Alethea wondering how she was going to explain that, how she herself could explain that. She was doing the same thing. Her relationship with Neville put everyone in danger. She wondered if Neville understood that. She wondered if she would have to answer this same question.

"I cannot do this on my own," Alethea begged. Graces stared back down at her tea, it was surprisingly hard to watch two grown adults cry like this, to watch them lose themselves to emotion when she was so used to the adults being the composed ones. "I cannot raise two boys alone. Two wizard boys at that and at my age. I can't! I can't live in this damn world without anyone, without—"

John apparently believed she could. He listed out all her accomplishments that Graces wasn't aware of and didn't quite understand. He begged her to see reason, suggested hiring more help, but he didn't seem to understand it was the loneliness and isolation that Alethea couldn't handle. And Alethea didn't seem able to describe that, not in a way that John understood.

"Thomas and Octavian need you. You—"

"I need you! You cannot leave me! I'll die, John. I'll rot away from the inside out. I can't."

"You can do this," John swore. "I know you can. I'm not saying you won't need help, I'm j—"

"Don't you see," Alethea scoffed. "I am the help. Thomas will be rid of me as soon as he comes of age. I am nothing more than a paperweight holding down a file until he is ready for it. I am disposable. I have always been disposable. And I cannot bear the isolation of living in this world alone, John. I can't."

"That's not true," John shook his head. "Thomas—"

"You think you know Thomas?" Alethea laughed. "Oh, you two have gone on some walks, you taught him to fish, camped a little and you think you know that boy? That boy is a wizard, John. He doesn't even want you here or he wouldn't have sent that girl," Alethea cried, gesturing to where Graces sat.

John shook his head, unwilling to hear what she was saying.

"Thomas is forbidding us from marrying," Alethea reminded. "He doesn't want you in this family. Maybe he has decided that you are nice, but you're a muggle and I'm a squib and when he can be free of us he will be. And he will forget us and live his life."

"Jesus, Alethea. You can't truly be this selfish. They're boys and we are adults. I knew you weren't warm to the boys, but I never thought you would risk their lives like this. Maybe you're right, but that doesn't change the fact that we are the ones supposed to be protecting them. And it doesn't seem like we really have much ability to do that, but we can do this."

"So that's it, you're leaving me? All these years of—"

"I am not leaving you!" John pleaded. "We'll just be apart."

"Same thing," the older woman dismissed, crossing her arms and turning away from him.

"Alethea, I have adjusted to a lot. I have forgiven a lot," he reminded warily. "But I am having a hard time right now trying to understand how you could do this to me, how you could not warn me about the consequences of being here, how you could put my life and children's lives in danger. The lying just never ceases to stop. I feel like you don't know how to even be honest."

Alethea fell tense at his words. She looked up at him despondently. Years of regret etched into her face.

"She can't help that," Graces murmured, looking up from her cup and meeting John's eyes. "She has been forced to lie all of her life. She didn't just lie to you because she wanted to appease her family, she lied to you because our laws demand it. You don't understand our world, and you don't understand her either. You can never understand Alethea without knowing where she comes from. Sure, you can hear stories of her childhood, but you will never truly understand it."

"She is disposable," Graces said quietly, setting down her tea and standing so she was at her full height. "You think her cold for not getting close to these boys, for not trying to be their mother, but what she said is true. That was the plan. Thomas would come of age and we would be done with her. Nevermind she raised Octavian for so many years, she would leave and Thomas would raise Octavian as a wizard should be raised, with magic."

"The idea of a squib being a mother to a patriarch and an heir is inconceivable. Nanny? Fine, but no role with actual power. I have more power over how Octavian is raised than she does," Graces pointed out. "Even if she physically bore these boys she would be overruled by magical family members in choices for them. I can see you care greatly about Thomas and Octavian, and I believe they care greatly for you, but you could never be parents to them. It would ruin them."

"Alethea has said there are magical children born to parents that aren't witches or wizards," John pointed out stubbornly. "Why is this so different?"

"Because we are a pure line. Pure meaning we are all from magical families and have not muddied our bloodlines with any blood from muggles. Thomas and Octavian are a part of pureblood society. We are more elite in this world than those children. In our circles to be raised by someone so—" Graces searched for the correct word, but couldn't find a word around what she meant. "—inferior, they would become inferior because of it."

John's eyes narrowed and he turned to Alethea. "There is a Master Race in this society?" Graces frowned at the question, but Alethea nodded. "And this is just accepted here?"

"No, not—" She took a long-suffering breath. "It's not accepted, but many families maintain it and these families have much political power. They just need someone to rally behind to make their beliefs law."

"My family keeps the line pure, kept the line pure. I was made barren. It's presented as a choice, laws in place now would prevent them from doing it against my will, but—but in reality it's not a choice."

John scowled, not seeming to understand.

Graces closed her eyes. "In my family squibs have unfortunate accidents," she rasped, touching the ring on her finger. "I imagine if Alethea refused to be made barren she also would have suffered an unfortunate accident. Some families, if it's a girl—" She continued, looking up at Alethea. "—they marry her off to a wizard to continue a line. These wizards are often undesirable for one reason or another."

"They would have killed you?" John asked, horrified.

"Perhaps. My family didn't do honor killings really. They didn't need to. They had other ways to ensure you fell in line," Alethea said with forced simplicity.

"How did they keep you in line?" John asked.

Alethea swallowed. "I don't want to talk about that," she said with finality.

"Why?" John demanded. "Don't I deserve to know? To be able to understand you better? Jesus, Alethea, why do you always shut me out when it comes to your family and where you come from? How is it fair that even now that I don't get an explanation."

"I don't think you will understand," she rasped tightly.

"Try me. At least give me the opportunity."

Alethea shook her head and a few tears rounded her cheeks to her chin. "I can't explain this to you, because I still don't understand it. My family was warm and loving. In many ways I could tell you they were supportive and—" She looked up to the sky as though searching for the words. "—proud?" She shook her head again and bit her lip to keep back the tears that were overwhelming her. "Then there was this part of them that- that made me feel so small. That made me feel as though their love could be taken in an instant. It was like I was loved with condition."

"And there were a million tiny interactions that made me feel that way, words spoken that sound fine, but had an underlying meaning that only someone raised in that environment could understand."

"I was more loved for my obedience," Alethea continued bitterly. "When I agreed to be made barren, to never marry a muggle, they celebrated. I was doing what was best for them and they rejoiced in my decision. They even threw me this grand party for getting into a muggle university, bought me a townhouse. Nevermind my decision was forced because they would not have helped me leave if I refused. The more I fell in line with their beliefs, agreed with them, the more freedom I was given, the more education I was allowed and the more help I had to live a life outside of this world."

Guilt wracked Graces' body as she considered what Alethea's life had been like, what she herself had believed before. She even felt bad for kicking Mrs Norris, who was the only one who Filch spoke with, the only one who cared about him. A cat. A bloody cat was all a grown man had, all he could ever hope to have and he watched daily as children who were loved and wanted went about their day not even knowing how lucky they were.

"I do love the boys," Alethea whispered. "I do. I just—for my sanity I have had to maintain a distance from my family. And I don't know how to embrace them all of the sudden, especially Thomas."

"Because he believes as his family does," Graces realized aloud.

Alethea nodded and John was quick to embrace her as she began sobbing uncontrollably. He held her close and patted her head gently and Graces could tell that his heart was breaking for her, but she could also see he was still torn on what to do.

"I am so sorry, darling. I am, but—but it doesnt change the situation we are in now. We have to do what's best for the boys. I don't see how I can stay here with you."

This was exactly what Graces had been hoping for. She had prayed that John would decide if all the information was laid out before him. But now, now that it was happening it all just seemed wrong.

"I have a safehouse," she said, before she even really considered the idea. "You all will go. You, John, and Octavian. No one will know. Thomas will still pretend that this is his home, he will still attend school and no one will even miss that you are not here. I know someone who knows someone who can get portkeys made to take you to this house. Once there you will not leave. You can't leave."

"I have work. I have—"

"You. Cannot. Leave," Graces reiterated. "This is the only way I can guarantee everyone's safety. It's either this, or you can't be together."

John nodded as did Alethea. Graces was still trying to wrap her head around what she was doing. What she was saying in doing this. This was more than just keeping them safe, she was joining a side in this action.

"What about the Abbotts?" Alethea asked, tearing Graces from her thoughts. "Octavian sees his grandparents once a week. I take him there every Monday."

"That will end," Graces said decisively. "Octavian is in Thomas' custody. By law he is Octavian's father. They can't do anything if he decides he no longer wants them in his life."

"They will not just accept that," Alethea warned.

"They'll make a fuss, be unpleasant, but they can't really do anything about it. Thomas and I will weather that storm. I will also make it clear that it is not indefinite, but should they continue to be unpleasant we could make it that way."

"And Thomas will agree to all this?" Althea asked skeptically.

Graces was quiet for a moment as she considered. "You're very wrong about how Thomas feels regarding you and John. You both mean a great deal to him. And he's lost so much, if there is a way to keep everyone safe and allow John to stay in his and your life he will agree."

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Harry decided that this did not count as spying. He hadn't been able to sleep, he and Neville had spent quite a bit of time tonight together trying not to think of Graces, but it was very obvious that Neville was anxious over her. He hadn't told Harry why, but he did mention that she was gone with McGonagall and he wished he could talk to her tonight. Neville shortly after curfew had decided to go to bed. Harry had a feeling it was to try and bring the morning hours quicker, but he knew sleep didn't come for his friend.

He had tried to do some reading and at one point considered just going over to Neville's bed and offering to keep him company for his sleepless night, maybe play a game of chess or some sort, but in the end he fell into old habits and pulled out his map. Again Draco didn't seem to be anywhere in the castle, and while he knew that Neville would disapprove of him trying to keep tabs on the blonde, Harry couldn't help it. It was during the time he was trying to find Draco that he noticed McGonagall and Graces walking towards the school.

And here he was watching the two women, but definitely not spying.

"I should have asked," Graces murmured hollowly. "Do you think Neville will be mad? What if he—"

"I think Neville will be nothing but proud of you, Graces. Just as I am."

Graces frowned slightly and glanced up at McGonagall. "You're proud of me?" she asked quietly, clearly not understanding why the older woman felt such an emotion towards her.

McGonagall stopped and turned Graces around so she was facing her, then she did something Harry hadn't expected. She pulled her close and hugged her. Harry couldn't hear what she was saying to Graces, but he saw Graces. The blonde seemed unwilling to take whatever praise she was receiving and scrunched her face up against the emotion before crying quietly into McGonagall's cloak.

"I gave away a house. I—"

"If I know anything about Neville it's this, he would easily give away any possession, no matter how large, to ensure someone's safety. And I believe he will be more in awe of you than I am now," McGonagall added, moving back so she could properly look at Graces' face. "I think you need to go get some sleep."

Graces bit her lip as though she wanted to ask for something, but stopped.

"You will see Neville tomorrow," McGonagall said patiently, clearly reading her mind. "I think Mr. Longbottom could use some sleep."

"Shouldn't I tell him right away? What if—"

"A few hours will not make a difference."

Graces took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Harry watched the way her lips moved in this and noted that it seemed like more than just an ordinary reaction, it seemed like a purposeful one, one that McGonagall seemed to approve of.

"Bed, Miss Malfoy," McGonagall said gently. "And I expect you to eat a very hearty breakfast tomorrow morning considering you barely ate anything for dinner tonight."

Graces nodded and began walking towards the dungeons. McGonagall watched her for a few moments before leaving towards her own chambers. Harry kept under the cloak walking a few steps behind Graces until he was sure McGonagall was out of sight.

"Malfoy," Harry whispered, quickly taking off the cloak and putting a hand on the blonde's shoulder.

Graces gasped and practically jumped out of her skin. She turned so sharply that Harry had to jump back and for a brief moment he thought he was about to be cursed as Graces' wand rounded on him.

"Potter?" she scowled in confusion, her chest heaving heavily as she stood there gawking at him.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. I—"

Graces nodded and turned from him. He was trying to figure out what was happening, why Graces would just walk away without anything else to say and then he realized she wasn't walking away. Well, she was, but not to get away. She hugged the wall and he watched as she closed her eyes and continued to do the same breathing technique he had seen her do in front of McGonagall.

"Mal—Graces," Harry murmured, he felt as though he should comfort her somehow but he also felt as though that would be the last thing Graces wanted.

Her hand shook as she brought it to her abdomen, her eyes shut tight as she frustratedly muttered things under her breath to herself. She opened her eyes with determination and Harry tactfully looked away as she pulled herself up.

"I'm sorry, I—are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

"I didn't mean to scare you," Harry said again. "I was just—"

"Following me in a dark hall in the middle of the night, then jumping literally out of nowhere. I don't even know how you did it," Graces said, sounding disturbed at the thought.

Harry held up his cloak in response, which Graces' didn't understand at first, until he pushed it forward for her to examine for herself.

"Should have remembered you had this," she murmured, shaking her head. "Draco mentioned it after he broke your nose. I'm getting this damn eye charmed. If I'm stuck with it it might as well have some more use."

"Charmed? Like Mad Eye—I mean, erm—"

Graces definitely was peeved by his comment, but she didn't lash out at him. "No, not so many charms. One charm will still allow me control of the eye. I'll have to work on it, but just for a month or so. Maybe less."

Harry nodded and the two of them slipped into a heavy silence. Harry was trying to figure out what to say, if he should ask about why she was so jumpy. If there wasn't a real reason and if it was just because of past things like Nott. If Neville knew. If it was the reason for what happened in Herbology. He also had questions about why she was out so late and why she was worried Neville would be cross.

"Is there a reason you're here, Potter?" Graces asked tiredly.

"Oh, I, erm, I was just—" Harry sighed, and decided being straightforward would be best. "I noticed you and McGonagall walking towards Hogwarts on my map, I'm sure you remember about my map," he said flatly, going a bit red. "And, well, Neville seemed really upset tonight, on edge and all. We hung out tonight, talked a good bit, but I know that he missed you, and that he's not sleeping well… if at all. I don't think he's slept a wink tonight, I can hear him tossing and turning in his bed, so I thought maybe I could sneak you into our room. Lend you my cloak and you could be with Neville. If you two close the bed curtains and did a silencing charm then—"

"What the bloody hell do you think of me, Potter?" Graces scoffed, her brows turned up in complete bewilderment. "Neville and I would never in a million years—in a room with four other boys no less."

"No! No, I didn't think you would," Harry stumbled out, wide eyed. "No, I-I just know he's worried and I thought he would sleep better if he saw you and if-if you could be with him. I didn't mean anything like that. I didn't think you would—"

Graces closed her eyes in exasperation and stopped him from continuing on. "Potter," she sighed. "That—I appreciate that you want to be supportive, but trust me Neville will not be pleased if I showed up in the Gryffindor dorm, let alone if you snuck me into his bed." She must have noticed the confusion on his face because she sighed and added. "It's not safe."

"The cloak would make it safe," Harry pointed out, holding it up for display. "You could even use it as—"

"You're trying," Graces broke in, her voice a mixture of shocked awe and surprise. Guilt coiled in Harry's belly as he looked at Graces face. She hadn't really expected him to make an effort when it came to Neville. She knew he knew and had clearly only expected his silence and some awkward conversation once in a while.

Harry shrugged. "I want to be a better friend."

Graces smiled slightly at that. "I'm very glad to hear that, but I think I'll just be going to bed."

Harry nodded, realizing she was right and the whole idea really was stupid. He started for the Gryffindor common room but Graces called out to him. She flushed and looked about unsurely before telling him she wanted him to deliver a message.

"Tell Neville I'm fine, all went well, perfectly safe and he can stop being such a worrywart. And... act haughty when you say it, all posh and apparently very me," Graces said rolling her eyes. "Neville's impression of me is ridiculous, but it will make him laugh if you gave him my message and did a 'Malfoy' impression."

Harry let out a small huff of a laugh. He was going to point out to Graces that she and Draco were such over dramatic pissers when they wanted to tease him across the Great Hall that it was an accurate impression, but Graces continued on.

"And... and tell him I love him, very much so," she added, her voice strong despite how uncomfortable she looked.

"I may tease him with the last message," Harry laughed.

"As you should," Graces nodded. "Neville's a sap though, he will enjoy hearing it even if you tease him mercilessly after."

It was very easy to see in these moments why and how Neville fell so hopelessly in love with the girl before him. Harry wondered how many moments like this it took for Neville to decide it was worth the effort to try and gain Graces' heart. He couldn't see it as much of an easy task. He imagined Graces was more vicious and cruel in the beginning than she was funny and kind. He looked at Neville and it was easy to see how she fell in love with him. Now that he was looking Neville had so many good qualities that he never really appreciated. Even after the Ministry he didn't notice his other qualities, he noticed he was brave and loyal, but now he saw all the other ones.

"Night, Scarhead," Graces dismissed, turning and raising her hand in what could barely be called a wave.

I am considering commissioning some fanart. Denarii has also mentioned chipping in for it for my birthday gift. Unfortunately, Jbadgr (who made the art you see on my display) no longer is doing art :/ I am unsure as to what to do though. I would love to hear from all of you what you would like to see. Right now I am leaning to doing the scene where Graces took Neville stargazing, but feel free to give me suggestions on your favorite scenes :) Nothing explicit though. Also, if you have suggestions of HP fanartist too that would be great. I think I know who I would commission, but I have not decided for sure. I am kind of new to this part of the fandom.

Also, I am sure a lot of you are aware of FFNet's problems lately with crashing, authors not being able to upload, or their latest chapters not uploading when the email link is sent. A reminder that I am also on A03 now too. :)