A/N: This is a fic about a friendship forged between quiet, nerdy, lanky Slytherin Theodore Nott and golden Gryffindor Princess Hermione Granger as they find an understanding soul in each other. But all good things must come to an end. RxR. FxF. I do not own Harry Potter.
Submission for:
Prompt Challenge: Pairing: Hermione Granger/Theodore. Prompt: "You feel horrible because you are always the person there for others, and you finally find someone who might understand, that you can trust, and you can't even be there for him."
Hogwarts Fair 2014 Challenge/Competition: Niffler Lucky Dig
Represent That Character! Challenge II
Hermione was always the solver, the one with a plan, the know-it-all. And she was usually always right, so the labels were justly given. She was the one that held everyone's hand during their darkest times, and even through the trivial ones. She was the shoulder to cry on and the person to lean on. But who could she lean on when times got hard? When everyone else was fighting their own internal battles, could she throw her own problems on top of theirs? No she couldn't. She would help them out with theirs before ever thinking of herself. She put others above herself. She would try to fix herself on her own.
Somehow that wasn't working though and that's how she found herself in the library, the place she could count to bring her peace but not today, with her face head down on the table with her eyes shut tight.
Theodore sat in the library, a typical sight for anyone who wished to notice. The only person who even saw him was Madam Pince, and that was because he would mumble a greeting under his breath before strolling to his usual spot near the third window on the right side of the room.
He was the quiet solver, the observant one with the plan, the know-it-all if anyone cared to know though they usually didn't. Theodore was usually left alone. But when someone wanted to find him, when someone wanted something from him, he would be there. He would provide the answer they needed and they would be overjoyed, and then he'd go back into obscurity without a second thought.
He glanced to his left and saw another usual inhabitant of his sanctuary: Hermione Granger, but something seemed wrong today. He had seen her and watched her for a long time, taking in all her intricacies and quirks: the way her brow knitted as read, her fidgeting legs beating in time to some melody she was humming, the bright sparks in her eyes when she discovered the answer and her odd use of a little clear stick as she wrote things on her arms.
But today, she was doing none of that. Today, she was face down on the table, no books, quills, parchment, or clear stick in sight. She was like a discarded ragdoll, her arms falling at her sides and below the table. He watched her for a moment, the large tome on his own desk forgotten. There was no movement, no sounds, and he would have thought her dead if not for the absurdity of the idea.
When he grew bored, he rolled his eyes and looked back at his book. Nothing of importance. Then there was a quiet noise, a quick intake of breath and slight shudder. With her forehead on the table, he could not see face but if he had to hazard a guess, then she may even be crying.
Loud-mouth, stupidly brave, know-it-all Granger was crying in the library. His eyes darted around wondering if anyone else noticed, but no one else was in their immediate area. No one else would hear the soft lamentations of the Gryffindor princess. He knew it wasn't his business but he couldn't just sit here while the poor girl was causing swells in the wooden desk.
He approached slowly, like approaching a feral cat. He honestly wasn't sure what he was going to do when she saw him or what she was going to do, but his feet were already in motion and his book left behind on his table. He drew out the chair across from her, its damned feet grating loudly on the stone floor, which caused her head shoot off the table, her eyes slightly unfocused. He was right about her tears, which she furiously tried to wipe away as she glared at him.
"What do you want?" she asked with as much venom as she could muster, but with her congested nose, the question was almost laughable.
"Are you ok?" he asked simply, though it was obvious she wasn't from her appearance. He sat softly in the seat across from her, his hands placed delicately on the table between them.
"What's it to you?" she asked, crossing her arms over her chest.
"You looked like something was wrong, but I guess you're fine now. I'll just leave," he said, rising out of the chair. He knew she wouldn't share her worries with him but at least she had stopped crying and hadn't hexed him. He could get back to his spot and his reading.
There must be some look on his face and he wondered what she could have seen for his face was always kept expressionless, but she still said, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snapped at you and you were only trying to help. Please sit."
He quirked an eyebrow but fell back into the seat. They lapsed into an awkward silence, he still not sure why he had chosen to say, but she broke it by saying, "Something was wrong with me and I came here to calm down, but it didn't exactly help."
Though his face still hadn't changed, she took it as her queue to explain, "Everyone turns to me to solve their problems, no matter how big or small: Ron forgetting to do his homework, Ginny worrying about what to wear, Harry being pressured by everything. I help them as best I can. I look out for them constantly, but no one's looking out for me. No one's helping me in my time of need."
He looked at her and then fiddled with the edge of the table and said, "What do you need?"
She sat there, her eyes moving around the room before she said, "I need someone who will understand me, someone who looks past the know-it-all Granger and sees Hermione. I need someone who will be there when I need something."
They sat there, the silence coming over them again though not as stifling. He regarded her out the corner of his eyes, he looking off as she was looking straight him, as they thought to themselves. Theodore felt like that all the time. Theodore just wanted someone to be there for him, to want to be there for him. He needed someone to understand him. He said softly, "I can be that someone if you'd like."
That sparked the beginning of a strange friendship. When Theodore entered the library, mumbling a greeting to Madam Pince and then sitting at his favourite table, there was Granger with a small wave or a kind smile. They didn't speak to each other, both still unsure who should make the first move, but somehow he would end up at her table or she would end up at his.
Soon, he would walk straight to her table, a wide smile shared between them. Books would cover the table, school books and extra reading, and quills, ink and parchment being used by both. They would exchange snarky remarks and sarcastic words before he let out a low chuckle or she released a tinkling laugh. They learned a lot about each other in those conversations.
Then, their interactions moved beyond the library - small glances in the halls, furtive looks across the classroom and subtle gazes above the dining hall. They were playing on thin ice in those instances. If any of their friends should see Theodore talking to a mudblood, or Hermione talking to a slimy Slytherin, it would mean the end of this. But they couldn't stop.
At first, he was loathe to admit she had gotten under his skin, but she had done it. She had been there for him, helping him out however she could, her loving caring nature encompassing even a Slytherin. And he had held up his side of the bargain. He was there when she needed him. Whenever he noticed a faraway look in her eyes, her fists tightly clenched under the table, her shoulders slumped in class, he would find her. He would be there. He would dispel her demons and be there for her. He would be strong for her.
But all good things must come to an end and Theodore knew this had to be done. He would be strong for her.
"My dad asked me to join him," he said not meeting her eyes. They sat in the library tonight at her desk. He had told her to come alone, no books, no quills, no parchment. Just the two of them. And thankfully the library was empty this late at night.
They both knew who 'him' is. It had been one of the many fears he had shared with her during many of their conversations. She reached out a comforting hand but he pulled away at the last moment. She began, "You don't have to do that, Theo. I can help you. I can tell someone and I can-"
"It's not a request, Hermione. It's only the illusion of choice, for there really is no choosing. I can't refuse to join. There isn't anything anyone can do to stop it," he said.
He rose from his seat and he could hear her freeze behind his back. He could actually hear her body shut down and her mouth lock up. He knew how it must be hurting her inside, but he knew if he turned around, he would lose his resolve. If he turned around and saw her heart shattering, he would run to her to pick up the pieces. And he couldn't have that. Too many people would suffer for that action, her included.
He swallowed hard and said, "You feel horrible because you are always the person there for others, and you finally find someone who might understand, that you can trust, and you can't even be there for him."
The gasp was heard and the shudder felt even though there was distance between them. He could feel her shifting behind him, unsure of what to do or say to make him change his mind, to make him join her side. He could imagine it all - her nervously biting her lips, her eyes though blinded by tears looking everywhere around them for something that may help, maybe even looking within her mind in search of an answer, her voice choking on the words she wants to say but doesn't know how.
But he cut her short, driving the final blade into her heart, "We cannot talk to each other anymore. No meeting in the library, no looks in the halls, no sitting by the forest trees, no owls. You never knew me."
Her chair grated on the stone floor as she got up. Her footsteps neared him, stepping on the broken pieces of their friendship which could have been more and possibly was. He felt the air move behind him, her arms wanting to wrap around his neck from behind. But he walked forward, away from her and the safety she provided, from the world he longed to live in without choices like this, the world where he could speak to her in public and feel the warmth of her hand in his. Without looking back, he said softly though he knew she could hear him, "Goodbye, Hermione."