You'll be the Death of Me

Chapter 96

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.