You'll be the Death of Me

Chapter 77

Graces opened her mouth to speak and then quickly shut it.

"I—." Deep breath. "—I would love to go out with you on Valentine's Day."

There was a penetrating silence as Neville took in her words. "Really?"

"Yes, really," Graces nodded, her voice barely a whisper.

"You don't seem very sure," Neville pointed out.

"I am though. I'm sure."

He didn't believe her. His wary stare and subdued expression showcased his doubts. Still, she put on her brave face and did her best not to show her own hesitations.

"I want to make this very clear, Graces," Neville began, his tone serious. "You do not have to feel guilty about not loving me. You do not have to feel badly about last night or about my fight with Harry."

Those could all very well be her reasons for agreeing to this. The idea of her going on an actual date with Neville was still so absurd, and she had spent hours wondering why she felt the need to give him this. She should be saying no. It made sense to say no, so surely her reasonings to go would be solely out of guilt and thus should be ignored. But in the end, after all her reasoning and thoughts, she still came back to the same decision and it was like all of those reasons that she had compiled didn't matter anymore.

"Like I said. I would love to go."

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She was staring at him again. It seemed she was doing a lot of that these past few days. Graces sat captivated once again by the man in front of her. She watched as Neville fingered through books, hurriedly scribbled some notes and quietly cursed whenever he spilled a bit of ink on his final paper. A dark mark came down from the side of his cheek from earlier when he had absently rubbed his face and forgotten the ink on his fingers and his hair was becoming increasingly disheveled from his fingers running through it. He lacked elegance, refinement and the ability to feign looking calm and collected in times of chaos. He was nothing of what she imagined for herself. And yet he was all she wanted.

He took another swig of his tea and glanced down into the cup, his brows furrowing slightly, before making an impatient huff and going back to the paper he forgot was due tomorrow. Graces smiled quietly to herself and stood from where she was reading and returned with a fresh cup to replace his empty one.

Neville took it gratefully and kissed her cheek in thanks. She flushed at the contact. He kissed her in thanks the same way her father kissed her mother when she brought him tea, the way that reminded her growing up how in love her father was with her mother. He paused his frantic work, took the cup and with one hand leaned her down gently with the other to softly kiss her cheek, lingering in the space between her neck and collar his hand still softly touching her neck. And just as she had seen her mother do countless times she found herself moving to sit on his lap to rest her head on his chest.

"Are you sure you don't want my help?" She whispered, closing her eyes for a moment as Neville twined his fingers in her hair.

"Very sure."

She could feel the vibrations from his chuckle against her cheek and snuggled closer to him, her fingers absently unbuttoning his shirt and finding their way to his chest. She knew he was busy, frantic to try and finish his paper so he could go to bed, but he didn't try and dismiss her. He lounged back in his chair and relaxed beneath her touch.

"I'm glad you're not staying out in the Greenhouse so late now, or leaving so early. It's nice having you here."

Neville smiled against her head in reply, but didn't say anything else on the subject. Graces had a feeling that he wasn't going to the Greenhouse to work on any project and had pestered him quite a bit about it the other night until Neville admitted he was doing it to keep people from knowing about them. He wanted people to think he was there, because he so commonly was, and not wonder or ask if he had been elsewhere. It did make sense, and Graces dropped her complaining about his time spent away from her.