Hello!
Welcome to my first ever published fan fic (so be nice, or at least, not unnecessarily rude.) Constructive criticism is always welcome, of course.
And, naturally, nothing recognizable in the following story belongs to me.
. . . . . . . .
Theodore Nott had no idea how he first started visiting her. He knew that Draco Malfoy had stupidly touched one of the many cursed objects that his entirely too self righteous father had added to Nott Manor over the years and the pair of them had ended up at St Mungo's on an absurdly busy Friday afternoon to have the rather tedious and extremely tender boils removed (jinxed to always nearly rupture, but never quite.) Rolling his eyes at Draco's inability to suffer in silence, he slumped down in one of the nastily uncomfortable plastic waiting room chairs and flipped through one of several old Quidditch magazines stacked haphazardly on the table. The pages were so worn with use that the moving pictures seemed to jerk and skip. He squinted at a particularly rough picture of what he supposed would have been a fairly impressive save by the new Serbian Keeper, if the image hadn't stopped and started numerous times, giving the impression that the Keeper was having some sort of fit.
Presently Theo became aware of a shadow falling across a page long advertisement for last year's Cleansweep (Sweep the pitch with your opponents! Guaranteed to leave them in the dust). He glanced up and saw a girl he vaguely remembered as being a Ravenclaw a year or two behind him, who was standing quite close to him, carefully observing a ratty pamphlet pinned to the waiting room wall. He blinked at the sight of her dressed in a sunhat and tall rubber boots despite the setting sun and the lack of wet weather. Tiny orange flowers were braided through her hair and a ragged bundle of weeds dangled from one hand. At some point Theo's fascination with the miniscule winking lights bordering the edge of the rucksack hitched over Luna's shoulder was interrupted as she turned and met his gaze, her head tilted slightly as she gave his a small smile of recognition.
"Waiting rooms are so wonderfully transient, aren't they?" Theo jumped as he realized Luna was addressing him.
"Oh, er…I guess," Theo offered, unsure how to respond. He tried a nervous smile as Luna blinked at him. Her overly large eyes seemed to be too perceptive for his comfort, and he tried to sit up straighter in the slippery plastic chair, only to slide back into a slouch.
"Yes, though I do think that waiting for the wrong thing can be an unsatisfying endeavor," Luna commented, carefully tying a strand of her hair into a loose knot that hung down and made the piece of hair kink in a strange direction.
"Oh, I'm just waiting for a friend. Bit of a mishap with a curse," Theo shrugged, glancing down the empty hall Draco had disappeared down ages ago.
Luna hummed. Two notes, the last one drawn out as she continued to stare at him with her head cocked.
"Are you waiting for someone too?" Theo offered, slightly unnerved by her unblinking stare.
Luna considered this, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet. "Oh, no, I don't think so. I don't suppose that you can wait for something when it's always nearly there right in front of you, just beyond reach."
Theo nodded as if this made all the sense in the world.
Luna smiled her vague little smile at him again. "Would you like to come visit her with me? I'm sure you can wait just as well upstairs."
"Visit who?"
"Hermione, of course," Luna said, waving the bouquet as if the weeds made sense of her previous statement.
Theo raised an eyebrow. "Granger? I didn't know she worked here."
"Oh no, she doesn't work here," Luna had linked her free hand around his arm and was guiding him down the hall.
"Er…," Theo managed to get out before the loud ding of the lift announced it's arrival.
. . . . . . . .
Now that he thought about it, the part where he agreed to accompany Luna Lovegood up to the Janus Thickey Ward and spend the early evening sitting with a girl who he had disliked on principle and spoken perhaps two words to during seven years at Hogwarts together was a little fuzzy. In the five years since the final battle at Hogwarts, Theo had seen many faces of his yearmates splashed across the pages of the Daily Prophet. So many, in fact, that his eyes had developed a habit of skipping over the happy Hufflepuffs and gleeful Gryffindors and righteous Ravenclaws who seemed to have gone on to countless successes that made the news. After the battle, he, like so many of his friends, had retreated to their private silent manors where they could ignore the world. He could honestly say that he had very little idea what any of the much-lauded heroes were up to.
And so Theo could only blame it on shock that when Luna Lovegood smiled her odd, vacant smile at him and asked if he'd like to come up and visit Hermione Granger that he agreed. The actual walk up to the Janus Thickey Ward was mostly filled with Luna's tuneless humming and comments about nargles and various other creatures Theo was quite sure were not on the Hogwarts curriculum. He followed Luna down a starkly white ward past a range of mismatched furniture and a number of people, some in the standard hospital robes, others in the uniform of Healers. At length, Luna paused at the far end of the ward, perching on a nearby windowsill and began to arrange the bouquet of what Theo assumed were weeds she had found on her way to the hospital in a dusty jar.
Theo stood awkwardly to the side for several minutes as Luna chattered good-naturedly at a slight, bushy haired girl who he recognized as a pale, tired looking version of Hermione Granger.
"…thought some salvia would help with the Wrackspurts, they can't stand it, you know," Luna explained. Theo watched as Hermione looked off the way they had come, eyes darting to and fro, her hands picking nervously at a frayed bit of yarn in the sleeve of her overlarge cardigan, which looked lumpy and homemade.
"Hermione, you remember Theodore, don't you?" Hermione gave no sign she heard Luna, merely picked a bit harder at the unfortunate cardigan and tapped a finger against the table. Luna reached for her hand, stilling the nervous movement and tucked a sprig of weeds into it. At the contact, Hermione looked around at Luna, apparently startled out of her previous daze.
"Hello," Luna said gently.
"Hello." Hermione's eyes were focused on Luna's face, looking more aware than she had since their arrival.
"This is Theodore," Luna repeated, gesturing to Theo, who was still skulking against the wall behind her. As Hermione's gaze focused on his face, Theo could see none of the shrewd intelligence he remembered from classes at Hogwarts, only a blank, unrecognizing blink and a half smile from a girl who was clearly a shadow of her former self.
Theo watched as Luna sat with Hermione, occasionally speaking softly, but mostly sitting in quiet stillness as the ward buzzed with activity around the. Hermione absently fiddled with Luna's jar of weeds, crushing a few leaves in her hand, and releasing a scent Theo vaguely recognized from a meal he'd had the previous week. He could see her eyes sharpen and saw her look around the ward before focusing back on Luna.
"He's safe, isn't he?"
"Oh, yes," Luna squeezed her hands. "We're all safe."
Hermione's anxious posture seemed to sag in relief, and she closed her eyes as she leaned back in her chair. "Good. I forget, sometimes, you know."
"I know," Luna's smile was sad, and Theo wondered how many times they'd had the same conversation.
Later that evening, Theo nursed a warmed Firewhiskey with Draco, who was still making rather a fuss over his healing arm, despite putting on a brave show when he had run into Luna and Theo in the waiting room post-treatment. Theo was fairly sure Luna had barely blinked in acknowledgement at Draco's slightly embellished account of his brave encounter with the cursed book, and he was positive she hadn't noticed the flirtatious smile and rather overzealous wink Draco had given her as she bid them goodnight.
"So, what happened to Granger?" Theo asked, staring into the fire of Draco's richly furnished study.
Draco swallowed the rest of his drink, relishing the burn of the alcohol. "Dolohov got her during the last battle," he said dully. "Though, it didn't sound as if she was very stable after Aunt Bellatrix, either."
Theo winced at the thought of those dark days, so far away now, but still unbearably close to the surface for many in the wizarding community. "I didn't know she was at St. Mungo's," he commented. "I thought, I don't know, that she'd gone off to start a quiet life somewhere. Maybe to stay out of the public eye or something."
Draco's smile was harsh and bitter. "Potter said he tried to keep it quiet. He didn't want strangers' going to St. Mungo's to gawk at what the most intelligent witch of our age has become."
"Potter told you about it?"
Draco sneered. "Not by choice. But we were working on a case one day, and she had some sort of panicked fit. The Healers called him in as her emergency contact."
The two were silent for a long while except for the crackling of the fire and the clink of ice in their whiskey glasses.
"Do you think Luna's a dinner date kind of girl?"
Theo's laugh was startled out of him, loud and deep and long. "I'm sure she will let you know," he raised a half empty glass to Draco. "Good luck."
. . . . . . . .
Two weeks later, while cleaning out the Manor library, Theo found his old school book on Arithmancy shoved between a dusty tome on the history of pureblood supremacy during the Dark Ages and an original Nott family treatise on the comparison of physical and mental torture. The treatise was rather badly stained with a dark substance which indicated that at least one previous member of the Nott family had found physical torture to be superior.
Theo tossed the treatise and history book on the large pile of books to be destroyed and thumbed through his old textbook. Small notes and equations were scribbled along the margins, and he sighed at how far away his childhood at Hogwarts felt. It seemed decades since his time as a student had been cut short by a war that he had been pulled into, when his father had forced his only son to fight for a future that had appeared dark and twisted and tainted. At sixteen, Theo had wanted nothing more than to stay at school and study. He liked the familiar halls and faces, the routine of the daily schedules, the potential to learn new things everyday.
Hogwarts had been his safe haven; an escape from his life at Nott Manor, where not even the angry and rambling letters from his father could bother him. The war had destroyed all the security Hogwarts had provided him with. Theo's father proudly presented him to the Dark Lord the summer after sixth year, offering him as a loyal follower. Theo could still feel his father's bruising grip on his arm as he was held still while the Dark Mark was burned into his pale white flesh. His father had cuffed him on the head and walked away in disgust when Theo had collapsed, crying from the pain.
Draco had been the one to haul him to his feet once the room had cleared out and he had stopped retching, guiding him around the puddle of sick, and pouring him a generous glass of Firewhiskey. Neither of them said a single word that night, drinking in front of the cold fireplace and pretending to ignore the shrieks and screams and laughter from the Dark Lord's revel. They had never actually spoken about that night, or about many nights in the following months, but when the Dark Lord had fallen and the remnants of the Death Eaters had rallied, attempting vengeance before being killed or captured, Theo and Draco had both turned their backs on their unwanted allies and cooperating with the months of interrogations and trials that followed.
Theo weighed the thick text in his hand, remembering days of sitting in the school library ignoring the darkening political atmosphere of the outside world, where the most important thing in his life was figuring out why an equation did not balance out properly according to the Prewett Law of Inequitable Magical Proportions.
It turned out Luna was a dinner date kind of girl. It also turned out Luna believed in not wasting any time discovering if she and said date were 'physically and subconsciously compatible.' Theo had discovered this rather early the next morning after he Flooed into Draco's sitting room and tripping over the two of them lying naked on the fireplace rug.
The fact that Luna greeted him quite calmly, graciously offered him tea, and began inquiring about his apparent Domestic Harriger infestation while making absolutely no effort to find clothing of any kind meant that Theo now Apparated outside the Manor and knocked. Given the extent of the amorous couple's apparent 'physical and subconscious compatibility,' this meant waiting for one or both of them to find clothing and reach the front door from whichever room they were busy defiling.
At length Draco opened the door, looking far more properly dressed then he had in the previous week, though there was a fading bite Theo could see above his shirt collar.
"Merlin, you can start using the Floo again," Draco gestured him inside.
"I've seen more than enough of your pale arse for a lifetime, thank you," Theo snorted, shuddering at the unfortunate memory. He followed Draco down the grand hall into the less opulent, though still overly large kitchen. Theo pulled out a chair and joined Draco at the mid-afternoon feast spread out on the table.
"Yeah, well, Luna likes to keep it new, so we've still got two wings of the Manor to go." Draco mumbled around a mouthful of sausage.
Theo choked on his sip of tea, "Ugh, that is beyond disturbing."
"I can't wait until she decides to try the stairs again," Draco said wickedly, raising an eyebrow. "If you know what I mean."
"Draco, as a friend, I beg you never to share that with me ever again," Theo moaned, adding a hearty drizzle of honey to his cup and reaching for a scone.
"She's something else, I tell you. She even asked if I wanted to get locked up in the cellar where she was held during the war and roleplay." Draco looked both disturbed and intrigued about this and Theo hurriedly took the opportunity to steer the conversation in another direction.
"Where is Luna, anyway? I was wondering if she wanted a couple of my old textbooks to bring to St. Mungo's," Theo commented.
"For Granger?" Draco cocked an eyebrow.
Theo shrugged halfheartedly. "Dunno, I'm not using them, and there were more people I recognized in the hospital the other week than I realized."
Draco leaned back in his chair and glanced out the window, the atmosphere in the room slightly grimmer than before. "Yeah, I know." He was silent for a few moments and then offered; "Luna's been telling me a bit about it, she goes to visit a couple times a week. It sounds pretty bad."
Theo made a noncommittal noise, not really sure if he wanted to hear anymore.
"Luna's not coming by until later, though. I'd go with you if you want to drop the books off," Draco pushed aside his plate. Theo shrugged, realizing he didn't have a pressing need to return to the dim Manor library with the moldering books and peeling wallpaper.
. . . . . . . .
They had a slight disagreement at the reception desk over actually going up to the ward or not, Draco winning with a muttered "Luna says she has hardly any regular visitors now, with people are trying to forget about the war," and took the lift up to the too-white and overly cheerful floor Theo had found so depressing weeks before.
Hermione was at the end of the ward, near the windowsill Luna had used as a chair last time. Theo noticed several more bunches of leafy weeds, dried from age. Many of the leaves had fallen on the windowsill and were crushed, permeating the air with a sharp, fragrant scent. She was hunched over the table near the window, a pile of books in front of her and scribbling on a piece of parchment.
"Obviously not much has changed," Draco snorted.
Theo cleared his throat, but she ignored it, copying out something else from an open text.
"Er, hello," he tried again.
Hermione glanced up, looking startled, "Nott," she acknowledged, "what do you want?"
Theo choked a little, surprised she recognized him. "You know who I am?"
"Yes, of course," she said rather exasperatedly. "We have Arithmancy together three afternoons a week, and Transfiguration the other two."
She frowned suddenly and looked around him at Draco. "Malfoy, I don't care what you say, I refuse to let you copy any of my notes. If you won't go to class, that's your problem, not mine."
Theo looked at Draco, who had flushed a dull red and muttered, "Sixth year, you reckon? I copied her notes once because we were in all the same sections and I kept skipping class. She nearly chewed my ear off when she caught me."
Theo nodded and sat down, ignoring Hermione's archly indignant look. "No, we're just here to study, thanks. All the other tables are full."
She pursed her lips and looked around the ward, where several tables were occupied by patients playing games or other activities.
"Alright, then. But I don't want to be kicked out of the library if Harry or Ron come and you start hexing them."
"Granger, you don't honestly believe that Potter and Weasel have enough brains between the two of them to work out where the library is?" Draco drawled, sounding remarkably like his twelve year old self.
Hermione just huffed and glared at her book, jabbing her quill slightly harder than necessary.
There was something nice about just sitting and pretending to study, Theo thought. He doubted he had ever said a single word to Hermione while in school, despite laughing occasionally when Draco made fun of her blood status. That seemed very long ago and tremendously far away. He couldn't remember when he stopped thinking that blood status mattered, but it probably had started some time during sixth year winter holidays. He had overheard his father laughing with some of his friends about the staircase being a useful tool for getting rid of a nagging wife, and remembered being nine years old, playing with Draco at Malfoy Manor, when his father came to retrieve him and gruffly informed him that his mother had an accident on the stairs. As he eavesdropped, Theo had felt as if ice had slipped down his spine, the shock of the sudden realization that his father had disposed of his own mother with no more concern than the mudbloods at the Dark Lord's revels he reminisced about so fondly.
Theo hadn't been able to use the main staircase for months after he realized what had actually happened that summer day so long ago during his usual weekly visit to the Manor. He remembered careful, poised Narcissa Malfoy hugging him close in an uncharacteristically blatant show of emotion while his father tapped his cane impatiently after delivering the news, wanting to go home and get on with his life of drinks and friends immediately. He recalled the sharp scent of the solvent he saw the house elves scrubbing into a dark stain at the bottom of the main staircase that afternoon when his father walked him into the house. Shortly after, Draco had stopped visiting Nott Manor without his parents, but Theo's invitations to tea or dinner or other various excursions with the Malfoy family had tripled. There hadn't been a holiday without a standing invitation to stay at the Malfoy's since.
No one spoke of it, naturally. One never spoke of anything distasteful like the killing of one's wife. In typical Pureblood fashion, the truth, which was horrifyingly obvious to nearly everyone who knew even a whisper about Thrasius Nott, was swept away under layers of manners and niceties that Theo hadn't ever questioned. It was around this time that Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, with their cool, disdainful reputations, seemed to take a liking to the Nott heir, including him on trips to the country, and school shopping excursions. If anyone did notice, no one was going to look too closely at the reason the boy seemed to spend more time racing around the extensive Malfoy gardens than holed up in the dark empty halls of Nott Manor.
Theo supposed that sitting there in the stark, too-white ward of St. Mungo's, pretending to revise a chapter on a lesson he barely recalled, was a little like penance for all the horrid things he had seen or heard happen and had done nothing to stop. He knew that he had been a child, forced to grow up far too quickly in circumstances that were beyond his control, first by his father, and then by his father's master. But the guilt that weighed him down seemed to gnaw a little harder every day, and somehow, just by sitting and staring at the page before him, listening to the tap-tap-tap of Hermione Granger's quill against her inkwell, he felt a little bit better.
After an hour or so, Theo and Draco had pretended to pack up their study things.
"Here," Theo pushed his old text towards Hermione, "I noticed you don't have this one out."
Hermione touched the cover of the book softly, looking at it consideringly, "No, I'm not sure where my copy went," she trailed off, seeming put out, "it's most unlike me."
"Well, you can borrow it as long as you need," he offered.
Hermione hesitated before nodding, smiling slightly, "Thank you."
Theo pushed a hand through his curls and nodded goodbye, walking away down the long ward.