The Disgraced of the House of Black - A Multi-Character Fanfiction - Part Two

245. Repairing the Broken

Althea didn't spare a moment once she arrived at Hogwarts to deposit her things in her dorm before making her way back downstairs, bundled in her winter coat, a scarf, and a hat. She had curled her hair that morning as she had had extra time, but now she was wondering if it would look like she was trying to look good for someone. She hadn't considered, also, the impact of her mascara if she happened to start crying during her conversation with Neville.

Cursing herself, she forced these thoughts out of her mind, taking the last flight of stairs before suddenly, she found herself pulled off balance by a vice-like grip on her wrists.

"Thea," a hoarse voice whispered.

"What are you-" she began indignantly as she was quickly dragged out of sight of anyone passing through the hall and into the corner between the stairs and the wall.

When at last they had come to a stop, she looked up to see who on earth was grabbing onto her so tightly.

"Draco, what are you-" she began angrily.

"Listen to me," he hissed, his eyes shining with tears. "I need-"

"Draco, you're hurting me!" Althea cried as his grip tightened.

His bruising grip was already making her hands feel slightly numb.

"Let go!" she shouted, attempting to yank her arms out of his grip, but this did nothing but seem to irritate him and pull on her already aching wrists.

Tightening his grip and pulling her closer to him, Draco snapped, "Can't you please just listen to me!"

Althea forced herself to calm slightly as she asked shakily, "What do you want?"

"I need help," he hissed, glancing anxiously to look for anyone around. "The Dark Lord wants-"

"What is going on here?" a shocked voice demanded.

Althea and Draco both looked up to see Ginny looking in utter confusion at the two of them. Without a word, Draco let go of her and dashed away.

"Thea, what was that?" Ginny asked.

"I don't know, but I need to go," she said, still frowning as she glanced in the direction Draco had gone. 

She was still unsettled by the time she had stepped into the hidden clearing. It was much different now in the winter than before while it was summer. The pool was frozen solid, as well as the small waterfall, and the ground was covered in snow.

Neville was sitting at the edge of the pool, staring out over it. Althea approached quietly, unsure exactly how to broach this conversation.

"Neville," she said quietly.

Instantly, he looked up, meeting her gaze before scrambling to his feet.

"Althea," he said. "I...I wasn't sure you would come."

"Well...I'm here," she replied with a small shrug. "What was it you wanted to say to me?"

"Althea, please listen to me," Neville began. "I'm sorry for everything."

"For what?" Althea replied quietly. "You are at perfect liberty to date Parvati if you please."

"That's not what I was talking about," Neville said.

That too felt like a dagger to her heart.

"Althea, I mean for disappearing on you. I shouldn't have done that," he said.

"Then why did you?" Althea asked, her voice breaking. "Neville, you mean more to me than anyone else in this world and you were gone. Why did you disappear? I thought we were friends!"

"We are," Neville said quickly, catching hold of her wrist gently.

Even so, she winced. Frowning, Neville gently pulled up her sleeve. There, blazing against her pale skin was a hand-shaped red mark, a forming bruise.

"Althea what happened?" Neville asked, looking in horror at the deep mark.

Althea hesitated a moment before telling him the whole story.

"I don't know what to make of it," she admitted.

"It is odd," Neville agreed.

The whole time she'd been talking, he hadn't let go of her wrist, gently grazing the skin with his thumb. At last seeming to realize what he was doing, he quickly lowered his hand.

"Neville-" Althea began before abruptly breaking off. Drawing in a harsh breath, she forced out, "Why did you grow so distant? Where have you been? I understand you have your own life and your own friends and you're not bound to me, but...I don't understand why that means we've barely talked since..."

Neville sighed, dropping his gaze for a moment before he admitted, "Althea, when we talked that night on the steps..."

"After the Quidditch match? What about it?" Althea asked desperately, her brows furrowed in confusion.

Neville was silent a long time before finally he said, "Out of all my friends, there's always been something different with you, like...like you spoke a language I've been speaking my whole life and no one ever quite understood perfectly. When we were in the Department of Mysteries, I was angry because of what happened to you, I was...I've never felt like that."

"Like what?" Althea whispered, her voice hardly more than a breath.

"Like the very breath was knocked out of my lungs, like I'd completely forgotten how to breathe," Neville said softly. "Like the world was still spinning and I was still."

"Why?" Althea asked, her voice somehow growing all the softer.

The corners of his lips twitching slightly, he said, "I think you know why."

"Neville," she whispered, her heart beginning to pound in her chest as Neville reached up to brush snow out of her blazing hair.

"Do you remember when we danced in the snow fourth year?" he asked.

"Yes," Althea whispered breathlessly, distracted by the way Neville was absentmindedly playing with her hair.

"Since then I've known you were going to be in my life forever, but when we talked that night, I thought all you wanted was..." Neville trailed off slightly.

"Friendship?" Althea said softly.

Neville didn't meet her eyes, still focused on her hair.

"Neville," she whispered, cupping his cheek and guiding his eyes to meet her own.

Neville looked into her eyes, seeing within her emerald ones the very emotions he himself felt with such furousity.

"Althea," he whispered. "I want to kiss you."

"What's stopping you?" Althea asked breathlessly, her heart pounding in her chest.

"Courtesy," Neville replied with a faint grin.

"Drop your courtesy," Althea murmmered, lowering her hand to grip the collar of his coat.

Cupping her cheek, Neville leaned forward, gently brushing his lips against her own before gently pulling her closer, pressing his lips more firmly against her own.