The Unloved Kids

Part 1: From a Distance

1997, October

Hermione Granger was sitting back in her chair when Theodore Nott walked into the library. Ron Weasley sat across from her, playing with a pencil between his fingers, eyes half closed. He was bored, and had drifted deep into his imagination. Yet, he noticed Hermione watch Nott enter the room. Ron followed Nott's movements: Nott, with his bag half draped over his shoulder, sat down, alone, at an empty table, on the other side of the study section.

"Is that Nott?" Ron whispered loudly, motioning towards the boy.

"What?" Hermione asked, her focus broken, without hearing what he had said.

"Is that Nott?" Ron repeated. "I heard he changed over the summer, but that's mental. I barely recognized him."

"Have you not seen him yet?" Hermione asked.

"No. I don't have any classes with him. I haven't even run into him in the halls yet."

"That's unsurprising. To my knowledge, he tries to avoid the halls and crowds."

"What do you think happened?" Ron asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you don't go from the awkward kid he was last year to that, without something happening to you."

"I don't know, I haven't really thought about it."

Ron stood up from the table. "Well, anyways, I need to head to practice. Are you alright here?"

"Yeah. I can handle everything."

"Great. See you later." Ron grabbed his backpack off the ground, threw it around his shoulders, and sauntered towards the door. His long red hair slowly swayed from left to right as he walked.

Hermione turned her attention towards the stack of papers laid out before her on the table. The Halloween Ball was soon. As Head Girl organizing the prefects for the event was one of her responsibilities. Ron had agreed to help, but, in typical fashion, he distracted her more than anything else. He'd always done that, even when they were first selected as Prefects. Ron was more than happy to let Hermione do all of the work. She leaned back into her chair again, and she glanced once more at Nott.

Nott wore a long black coat, with the letters HATE written in white paint across the back. Beneath the coat, he wore a white dress shirt with a thin black tie. His black hair was cut like a Morrissey quiff, and his pants were tight and black with holes in the knees. At the table, alone, he read a paperback novel, with his pack of cigarettes and wand resting in front of him.

The new look was jarring, considering how Nott looked before the summer vacation. He'd always worn loose t-shirts and khakis under an old robe. There was a constant aloofness to his nature, which, seemingly, had been transformed into a refined toughness. Before, it seemed like he was distant and withdrawn from everyone because of a seeded disinterest in others; now, it looked like an act of rebellion. His solitude became a political act: a calculated dissent from conformity.

Hermione was curious about the boy with black hair. What led him to this state? In a sense, she felt like she knew him. They been in the same classes throughout their seven years at Hogwarts. They were two of the few students to be currently taking all honours courses. She saw him everyday. And, yet, she'd only known him from a distance. Hermione sat in the front of the class, and he sat at the back. The only times they spoke in the hallways were to continue debates they'd started in class. Students from different houses had seldom opportunities to socialize, and Hermione and Nott walked in different crowds. Hermione spent most of her time around Quidditch teams, seeing as Ron and Harry were both members. Nott did not like Quidditch. Or, at least, it seemed that way: she'd never seem Nott even attend a Quidditch match in the past seven years.

Most of her knowledge about Nott the past couple of weeks came from Draco Malfoy, the Head Boy. When the two of them spent time in their office, Draco would occasionally mention Nott in passing, as he'd talk about the happenings in Slytherin. Nott spent most of his time in Slytherin listening to music, usually by himself, or with Tracey Davis. Draco liked Nott. Nott was the only other student Draco could talk about Neitzsche with. But, their relationship did not get much closer than that. Draco only truly knew Nott from a distance as well.

There was one night, Hermione sat in the office she shared with Draco, and Nott came by looking for him. Nott's hair was styled with his Morrissey quiff, and he wore the black wool coat with HATE written across the back.

"Is Draco around?" He asked, leaning on the door-frame.

"No, I think he's at Quidditch practice," Hermione responded.

"Cool." He turned around, put a cigarette between his lips, and started to walk away.

"Hey Nott," she called at him.

"Yeah?" He turned his head back to look at her.

"I like the new look."

He paused for a second, and turned back around. "Thanks," he said, walking down the hall.

She could not explain it, but she always felt there was something special between them. It was a feeling that came over her whenever they spoke, or passed by each other in silence. Like a deep receding weight that pressed in her stomach. It made each interaction bogged down by a grave severity, which she thought connected them, but, paradoxically, kept her separate from him. It made their interactions special, but in those moments, she could not act like herself. The passing mass in her stomach pulled her away into an ironic self-conscious assessment of who she was. Was she what she wanted to be? Was she doing what she wanted to be doing? She was too self aware in Nott's gaze.

Hermione turned her attention back towards the stack of papers, resting on the table in the library. She wondered if she could ever breach the gap. If she could overcome the hurdle of her self-doubt when she was around him. If she could know Theodore Nott from anything more than a distance.

...

Author's Notes:

This story will be a little more conventional than my other stories.

I hope you like it.

Please Leave a Review.

Thanks. BJ.