You'll be the Death of Me

Chapter 102

Chapter 102

Neville opened his eyes and for the first time in a long time wasn't overwhelmed with a feeling of dread. Graces was tucked in close to him laying on his chest, both of them still in their school uniform. He didn't remember falling asleep and it was clear from how they were laid on the bed, the sheets still made up, that exhaustion had claimed them before they were ready to sleep themselves. The talk had gone well though. It was long and left them both stripped raw with emotion, but they hadn't fought. At least, not much. Graces had listened and he had listened in turn. It had been hard—incredibly hard—to go through everything that was between them so openly and brazenly, but at the end of it he had this overwhelming sense of relief. They still had an assortment of problems, but all those problems didn't feel like they were a part of his relationship. Those were outside problems: this war, telling their families, her safety, apparently his safety, Graces relationship with Draco, the list goes on and on. But when it came to him and Graces he didn't have the same worries. He gently pulled her closer to him and hoped that this feeling wasn't fleeting, that the talk broke the wall that had prevented them from being functional.

Graces shifted against him and then stilled before looking up at him blurry-eyed and yawning the question of what time it was.

"Early," Neville whispered, taking a look at his watch. "Really early. We have plenty of time to go back to sleep."

"Thank the gods," Graces murmured, her eyes already starting to close as she snuggled closer into his chest.

Neville smiled contentedly. "Hey, why don't we actually go to bed," he suggested. "Get under the covers, dressed to sleep, take our shoes off," he chuckled softly, kicking his shoes against Graces' shoes. "What would your mother say, Miss Malfoy? Shoes on the bed."

Graces giggled and pushed herself up from where she was lying. "My mother wouldn't say a word. She would stare at me disapprovingly from my doorway until I noticed and quickly amended my mistake."

"Do you get scolded often?" he asked curiously, standing up and unbuttoning his shirt, before taking his shoes off.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean... when you're home do you get scolded often? Or are you and Draco perfect children?"

Graces raised an amused brow at the question, before looking down on the side of her skirt to unzip.

"I suppose we got scolded the normal amount. Often as young children, but very little now. Father has very high expectations for behavior, but he left most of the discipline to our mother. She doesn't really scold so much as give you these looks, when she is truly mad though it's far from pleasant."

Neville considered this as Graces walked over to the dressers and began looking through one of the drawers. One hand sifted through her clothes while the other nimbly undid the buttons of her blouse as she considered what she wanted to wear to sleep. He watched as her fingers trailed down, taking in their quick dexterity, how delicate and long her fingers were, nothing like his rough awkward hands. Graces' hands were always soft and even after Herbology her nails never seemed to have any dirt underneath.

"Do you care if I wear one of your shirts?" Graces asked, seeming to not even notice his staring.

Neville shook his head, unable to help himself from smiling at the request. Graces had started doing that often after December. For a while she wore very pretty things to bed, lots of thin silky nightgowns which she loved distracting him in, but when things got harder she wore those less and had seemed to take a liking to his shirts.

"You know you don't have to ask me when you want to wear my shirts," Neville said, climbing into the bed and opening the covers on her side for her to climb in beside him. He laid on his side, his head propped against his hand as he considered something. "In fact if you wanted to steal a few to have in the dorms for bed it's fine with me."