A/N: Sorry I haven't posted in awhile. I've been busy with school. Hope you like it, and hope it's not too dark. But if you've read my other fics, you'll know this is like nothing.

Disclaimer: I don't own.

Sometimes, no matter how much you want something, no matter how much you wish it could come true - it never will.

Part of it, was because he was a Slytherin, and she a Gryffindor. He was the evil house. It wasn't fair, because his great-grandfather Cantankerus wanted Michelangelo Nott to restore some name to the Nott house (the directory was bringing negative attention to the Nott family, particularily from the Parkinsons and the Turpins), and Tom Marvolo Riddle's campaign seemed like the way to do it. It sucked his father into it during the seventies, and it was only the connection with Abraxas and Lucius Malfoy that got him out of it. Michelangelo wasn't so lucky. Azkaban was waiting.

He was not well known, and what he was known for was being a prejudiced Slytherin who's mum had died of a muggle disease when he was a toddler. He was friends with and Blaise Zabini, and on speaking terms with Draco Malfoy - that counted for something, atleast in Slytherin (and a little bit in Ravenclaw). But she was famous, the Golden boy's best girl-friend, his "sister". Neck and neck with Draco Malfoy for the top marks (she was currently winning).

She was beautiful. Even if others couldn't see it at first, she grew into it. Her hair fell in curls that framed her face, her eyes sparkled whenever she discovered something particularily interesting... and there was just no words that could ever describe her smile. He...well he had a thin face, and was rather weedy, his hair was matted down; It wasn't his fault, his mum's family was littered with diseases that he had in turn had to struggle with: cancer, dragon pox, and a handful of minor ailments that he had been lucky enough to inherit.

The only thing left of the Nott legacy was his connection to Draco Malfoy. He felt a bit like his grandfather - being urged to make connections to save face. Lucius had broken ties to the Nott family after he repaid the life debt from centuries ago getting his father - Richard - out of Azkaban.

And though I never got her name

Or time to find out anything

I loved her just the same

And though I rode a different road

And sang a different song

I'll love her till my last breath's gone

Like a river made of silver

Everyone came running to the scene

I was shot down in cold blood

By an angel in blue jeans

When he was in his third year, he started going to the library to study. It was one of these times that he walked in through the doors to find that the only seat not taken by giggling-girls or dummy-Hufflepuffs was across from her. At a little two person table. He sat down. He had a Arithmancy essay due.

After a few hours of her scribbling away on her parchment - and he doing the same - he looked up at her. She was ignoring him.

"Hi," he said.

She didn't look up.

"I was wondering-" he started.

"Not going to do your homework, Nott. Already doing two transfiguration essays for Patil and Parkinson. Not to mention I have three potions essays to do. Check back tomorrow."

"I was just going to-"

"I said get out!"

It was later, when he thought: she never said to get out. It was a stupid thought, unnecessary, but he still thought it.

Late that night she got away

I chased her to the turnpike

Then lost her where the music never plays

And though I rolled upon the stones

And fell into the water

I'll love her till my judgement day

Like a sunrise made of white lies

Everything was nothing as it seems

I was shot down in cold blood

By an angel in blue jeans

He next saw her in Potions. She was talking to Weasley and Potter. He caught snippets about a map. Why were they so concerned about a map?

Later that month, during Care of Magical Creatures, Draco is a...not very nice word (again), and Granger gets fed up. She stomps over to him, and slaps him in the face. Draco leaves the clearing to sulk, and Theodore trails after him. He would never say so, but he wanted to cheer her on, for slapping Draco.

He deserved it, sassing the teacher like that. Even if he isn't a good teacher and even if he favors Gryffindor as much as Professor Snape favors Slytherin, you don't disrespect a teacher and not expect repercussions.

He sends her a letter, by one of the school owls.

Hi -

I just wanted to tell you that I thought that it was cool when you slapped Draco Malfoy in the face. He deserved it. Have a wonderful holiday. I heard you beat everyone in third year for top marks. I also heard you beat the record for the most Os received by third year. That's cool. Say hi to Crookshanks for me.

An Admirer

P.S - I think you're very pretty

He sees her open the letter. He tries to act natural and not blush. Draco asks him what happened to him, if he had the pleasure of watching Goyle try to sing a muggle song "Whoomp! (There it is)" or something. Apparently it's popular in the muggle world. Draco calls Goyle a blood traitor, and that's the end of that.

Pansy Parkinson sniffs her pug nose.

Blaise Zabini rolls his eyes.

Theodore sulks in the corner thinking about her. Hermione Granger. He spends the rest of the week like that. Not thinking. Just numb.

Because he'll have to go back home soon. And his father will be there. It'll suck, and the house elves will be bloody and scabbed up. But he'd be safe. Because it wouldn't look good if someone saw him with a bruise. Better to hit the house elves.

I hear voices calling all around

I keep falling down

I think my heart could pound right out of me

I see a million different ways

To never leave this maze alive

It happened on the train ride back.

"Hi, how are you, Theodore?"

His head snapped up. He was shocked. "What?" he couldn't believe it. Was she there, talking to him.

She laughed lightly. "Thank you for the letter. It was nice of you to say that. It felt good, you know. Slapping him in the face and all."

"H-how'd you know, it was me?" was all he could manage. He was sure he was blushing up a storm. He could imagine what his father would say: "go talk t'the real influen'al ones. It's the on'y thing...on'y thing that'll work. It'll keep us in good places, Theodore. My grandfather was in...in a good place. We all would've. B'then he had to make that stupid...stupid … directory. Stop talkin' to the mud, go talk to the Malfoys."

He didn't want to listen to what his father would say. He wanted to talk to her.

He LIKED her, he realized. He liked her a lot.

She was smiling at him, she looked clever like that. "I saw your handwriting when you sat down next to me in charms. It matched the one from the letter. That's how I knew."

"That makes sense, I guess."

"Hey Theodore, I'm flattered," she paused, and he looked confused, so she explained it, "by what you said. But you're a Slytherin, and I'm a Gryffindor. It just wouldn't work. Your dad would be mad, I'd get AK'd, you'd be disinherited. Go marry a nice Ravenclaw, they're the only sensible ones, I think. Padma Patil and Rebecca Derrick are nice. Hey, I don't know Slytherins that well, but I bet if any of them are half as nice as you, then they're all quite nice."

"Goodbye, Theodore. Have a nice holiday."

He felt numb. Dead. She left him to his thoughts. He didn't have any.

I woke up somebody's arms

Strange and so familiar

Where nothing could go wrong

Barely alive or nearly dead

Somehow awake in my own bed

And there you are

Like a highway headed my way

Life is but a dream

I was shot down by your love

My angel in blue jeans