Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

A\N: This is written for the Ship Me Saturday, 4th August prompt of the Facebook group, the Fairest of the Rare: "Do these sunglasses say 'I'm a movie star' or 'I'm hiding my dark circles because I'm perpetually tired'?"

The prompt launched this idea, but it got wilder when I got to write it. I hope you will like this short practice. (Any mistake you might spot is mine, I'll edit it later on.) -Ydream08

Curious by Nature

by Ydream08

Summary: Attending this event was one of the many responsibilities he had as a Sacred Twenty-Eight. Theodore Nott had to keep appearances, but would it be just as easy with the presence of one Hermione Granger?

There were a few things you had to do when you were a Sacred-Twenty Eight. All bothersome and mostly protocol, but still, when your surname was marked, then you had to be there. Attend. Show off. Intimidate, if you wish, while you're at it.

Theodore Nott had learned the basics from the best: the Malfoys. Lucius Malfoy to be exact. Before the mess that was the Second Wizarding War, of course.

That's why his beloved teacher was absent in the event. Locked up in Azkaban, probably taking a nice nap at the cold tiles of the tiny cell he had.

Theodore grimaced at the thought, but thinking about what became of Draco, he could hardly sympathize with the man.

Even his own old man had protected Theo. In a sense. Maybe. Well. He wasn't so sure actually, that what he had received was indeed protection. Thoros Nott, his father, had been among the most extreme blood supremacists, and his support of the Dark Lord had been with money and wand both. However, one thing that had always been a concern for the old couth was the family line. Would the name continue? With how he had been the last Nott for forty years?

Theodore's father had lost his parents when he was twenty, and he had been able to sire Theo finally when he was sixty.

That was a long period of time to sit and think about your priorities with a kid, if he would have any. When, actually.

Thinking about how Theo's late mother had been the fourth Mrs. Nott, Theodore had no doubts that his father would have died still fucking some pureblood woman if he hadn't been able to knock one up.

Nott was a name of the Sacred Twenty Eight that would not die out. Not like Shafiques, Selwyns, Fawleys or Gaunts. Prewetts had been a great example for Thoros Nott while he was still alive, Theo mused.

Well, since that had helped him avoid being marked, Theodore couldn't complain.

Yawning, Theo blinked a few times to get his wits together, but he couldn't resist his shoulders dropping as the boring speech went on. Something about Wizengamot seats being restored and a just court opening for the retrials of the war criminals.

Perhaps Uncle Lucius would pay his way out this time. If Draco was willing to pay for the man, that is.

They were twenty-three already and Draco had inherited the Malfoy legacy two years ago. As the new Lord Malfoy, he was capable of declining his father freedom by retracting all the money.

Glancing at his mate, Theodore felt confident that Draco wouldn't let his father taste the sweet air of freedom. His clenched jaw, vein pulsing, eyes narrowed, were only minor indicators of his nonexistent enthusiasm.

That last year of Draco's confinement in the Malfoy Manor, back in the war, along with the likes of Greyback, had done the trick, Theodore knew. He had been bitten and infected right in front of Lucius Malfoy, a man unable to protect his own son.

Draco would let him rot in Azkaban.

The alternative option had been killing his father in the Battle, but Draco hadn't taken that clean route like Theo had.

Well, his loss.

Sighing, Theodore left the tract of his thoughts in favor of scrunching his face. How he'd love to be in his Manor! Away from all these speeches, responsibilities and headaches. He should thank the applause for the last complaint of his. It was bloody loud. Not like they were clapping for the Weird Sisters' live performance.

It was a bloody Ministry event. Favoring Purebloods. And exceptional Half-bloods and Muggleborns. Some of them were given seats as well.

Thanks to Granger, of course.

She had stormed to the stage, given her speech, basked in the deafening applause and left with her languid Slytherin green dress. The one with a slit; at the side that faced the audience.

Even thinking back to her departure of the stage -her speech had been among the first ones- Theo couldn't hold back a groan.

The perfect Gryffindor princess. Bookworm and know-it-all. The one who had given a pretty smile in apology after helping him gather his books that had dropped because she had run into him.

The run-in had happened on a weekend in third year, around the time they were allowed to wear clothes aside from the uniform. He had been wearing a dark gray, knitted jumper and black slacks underneath.

His lack of Slytherin colours must have undid her constant defense and snark, but it had been a blow to his ego when he had realized the same night that she hadn't even recognized him. For a whole day, Theo had thought about the curly haired witch with a love for Arithmancy and hate with Divination, but as a schoolmate of the same year, he had been unbeknownst to the girl in question.

Given, she was rushing about -third year she had been the busiest- but still.

Turning around to lay his other elbow on the cocktail table, Theo covered his face in his hands and shut the outside world for a moment.

He needed to get his shit together if he didn't want the Prophecy to write some inane article about how he was a wreck this evening, spending his ancestral money on Merlin-knows-what, and disregarding the new Ministry.

A reporter, Lita something (Was it Keater?) had written some gossip about how Theo was actually a vampire. When had it been published? Just before the first anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts? Yeah, he had been out of Azkaban half a year then (His trial had been postponed way too much) and when his turn had come to be detailed in the wizarding newspaper among many of the Dark Lord's supporters, Lita hadn't refrained from mentioning his possible-infection.

Draco's lycanthropy having been leaked had given the woman wild ideas, Theodore had summarised.

So, he wanted to make his appearance well-known and before his patience ran thin, he wanted to leave. He had only so much patience for this crap. Sure, maybe when he had the motivation to blend in the society once again, he would struggle to keep up the appearances. But, right now, it was just a hussle.

"I hope this wasn't the brilliant idea you mentioned, Granger."

To Draco's address, Theodore's ears perked up, but he didn't move fast as he would have liked. Dizziness was there with the headache, you know.

"It was actually. What is wrong with it?"

Raising his head at hearing the feminine voice, Theo couldn't help but smirk at her tone while questioning Draco. It was all self-entitled as she used to be. Hermione Granger would give that confused scowling to anyone who distrusted her ultimately rightful decision.

It twisted his stomach that the look was directed on him, though.

Theo's smirk dismantled as he rose to stand tall -taller than Draco even- and he looked back at Greengrass sisters who accompanied the two males tonight, to see whether Granger's expression was directed at them.

Nope. It was all for him.

The pretty purse of her lips, the knitting of her brows and curiously shining brown eyes. Her annoyance kept her from questioning Theo, he thought. But remembering her question, perhaps she thought something was wrong with him.

Draco was saying something, Theo wasn't sure what as his gaze was locked with Granger's, but Granger must have been as disinterested as him since Draco huffed pointedly.

"Granger, you remember Nott? Theodore Nott? Slytherin, our year?"

Granger's open confusion and searching through her archives pressed Draco to introduce him more. "You know, your fellow book-lover? We shared Arithmancy for four years, Granger." -he sighed, exasperated- "Salazar!"

Theo watched as she gave up trying to recognize him, and collected herself before stretching her hand. She still looked at him a bit odd, Theo noted. Her eyes never leaving his but a slight crease remaining in her brows.

He partially bowed and took her hand in his. Kissing her knuckles, Theo was pleased to notice her breath catch.

Looking up at her in the meantime had led to his sunglasses to slide down, though. Having forgotten them, he cursed silently. He corrected them in a haste and put his hand to his pocket out of convenience.

"Oh, yes!" Granger exclaimed immediately, the short view of his eyes must have done the trick. Now her warm brown eyes sparkled with recognition. "Nott! Of course. Didn't know you'd be here."

Theo shrugged, as if that was enough explanation. Then, turning away his posture, he let Granger and Draco have their little chat about the Ministry's latest news.

Theo would have humored Daphne as he used to do in Hogwarts, but tonight, it was one of the nights he forgot to knock back a glass of firewhiskey to take the edge from everything. Five years had passed since the war, yes, but some months were worse than others.

Nightmares would strike back, stress would surface and he would relive that day in the Battle.

His father's death was still fresh in Theo's mind. It didn't help that old acquaintances loved to remind him of his father whenever he had tried to pick up his life- get back on family business or start something new.

Azkaban cells were not as much full as it was supposed to, Theo knew.

Groaning at the increased light that he could no longer ignore because his sunglasses shielded nothing, Theo itched to get a drink.

If it were not for firewhiskey, there was one other thing that could satisfy his thirst. A kind of thirst that added more nights in which he was wide awake. Not just because his father's death haunted him.

Theo cracked his neck and took a deep breath. Trying to block the perfumes of the Greengrasses -no this was new, this was Granger's- he clenched and unclenched his fingers.

He had to leave. This much outing was more than enough. He had made the message clear: the Ancient and Noble House of Nott was not dead.

Not entirely, anyway. He smirked at the thought.

Coughing to subside the itch in his throat, Theo was just about to blurt out some excuse and make himself scarce when her voice halted him.

"Those are some… fashionable sunglasses. Worn in an in-door event?"

There was suspicion in her narrowed eyes, but Theo kept his cool. Taking a second-check of their table, it did surprise him that he and Granger were alone, but he kept saying himself it was a given.

Draco and Astoria must have gone to schmooze as a couple or something. And Daphne was probably humoring herself with some older man, seeking attention her father had never given her. Mental, that woman.

Dismissing the absence of his childhood friends, Theo forced to reply the Muggleborn. It was hard with how the way she supported her head, a hand cupping her chin, exposed the delicate traces that were her cleavage and neck. The creamy white skin shouted to be bitten, begging to be marked.

Theo refrained.

"They are. Fashionable, of course. Why would I wear them otherwise?"

She narrowed her eyes further as if possible. Theo hoped his anxiety didn't falter the smirk playing on his lips. He had to distract Granger and get the hell out of this place.

The throbbing increased as more hours trickled by without alcohol, Theo's thrist unattended.

"Well… Do these sunglasses say 'I'm a movie star' or 'I'm hiding my dark circles because I'm perpetually tired'? I have a secret to keep, you see."

Theo had learned long ago that speaking closest to truth, only and only that, would help distract any onlookers.

Granger rolled her eyes, but a cute smile tugged at her lips. As Theo stared longer at her full lips, he could fit other adjectives to that smile. One that was nothing like the one she had given him in their third year, but was painfully reminiscent of it.

Beautiful.

Alluring.

Inviting.

"I like to know things." Her voice was matter-of-factly. Her eyes stared at directly him. Him and nothing else. "Know everything."

A moment of intense silence pulled on every muscle in his legs to force him out of the place.

But he stayed.

Her eyes, surely unseeing of his behind the sunglasses, were determinedly searching.

"I'm curious by nature."

That was all she said. All Theodore Nott managed to hear when his fight-or-flight reflexes urged him to bid farewell and leave. Then he was gone.

He didn't hear her soft voice that added, "But, surely, I must be mistaken."