DISCLAIMER: JK Rowling owns everything Harry Potter, I have merely borrowed some characters. This is a fan fiction site after all. Therefore: no money, don't sue. Please and thank you.
***
The first thing Hermione did upon entering her Head Girl quarters was cast a silencing spell on the rooms within it, dropping her bag and books by her study table.
The second thing Hermione did was walk into her room, letting the door behind her close quietly, and climb onto the large, neatly made, double bed.
The third thing Hermione did was tear open the black envelope she had been holding in her left hand. It was addressed to her, Miss Hermione Granger, in a graceful cursive written in a peculiar white ink. Glancing once again at the foreign handwriting, she unfolded the parchment within it and began to read out loud in a quiet voice.
"Dear Miss Hermione Granger,
It is with great sympathy and regret that I inform you of the deaths of your parents –"
Hermione broke; tears began to course freely down her cheeks, her large brown eyes lost their focus, but she did not make a noise as the paper fell to the ground.
**
It had been almost a week since she had received the letter. She wouldn't talk to Ron, nor would she speak with Harry who had sympathised with her about losing family members. She had tried, but it had only made her feel worse, so now Hermione had taken to hiding in the less visited sections of the library in order to escape their constant attempts to encourage her to talk. Currently, she sat on the dusty floor, her knees to her chest, sobbing silently; several muggle poetry books were strewn across the floor in front of her, all had failed to solace her in her distress.
Hermione had fallen into a self-imposed isolation that was now nearing depression. While her marks were still high, her personality had taken a turn for the worse and it seemed that nobody could awaken her from the silence that she now lived amongst. Not even Malfoy, who had used a variety of offensives, could evoke a reaction from her. Unsurprisingly, it was due to this silence that she did not register the sound of footsteps walking towards her.
Her awareness of another person in the vicinity was only alerted when she felt a warm body seat itself beside her, silently reaching out and enveloping her with their arms. She did not look up to see who was providing her with the silent, understanding comfort, but instead fell against their chest and clutched the black school robes the student wore as if they were the only thing keeping her alive.
Time was secondary at that moment; all that mattered was that somebody was there, and they weren't asking her to explain. Hermione had no explanation for how she felt, and it scared her. Answers usually came naturally, and when she could find nothing that could help her understand her feelings she had lost her fighting ability.
After what seemed like hours the tears ebbed away and her choked breaths slowly became steadier as she fell into a drowsy sleep-like state against the warm body that had come to her rescue, her face still buried in the robes on their chest. She took in her rescuer's scent, distinctly male, and her breath caught in her throat when the boys hand came up to softly caress her hair as he gently pressed his lips to her hair.
Carefully then, the youth extricated himself from her grasp and stood, walking quietly away from the girl who sat against the wall, eyes now red but free from tears. Hermione watched him leave, unsure of the identity of the slender, brown haired boy. Her swollen, tired eyes had not noticed a house emblem upon his robes - although she knew that it had not been a Gryffindor who had comforted her. Her distress momentarily overcome by curiosity, Hermione stood to follow his path out of the library, but her limbs refused to comply in protest of the uncomfortable position they had been placed during her library breakdown. Walking gingerly, she made her way back to her private quarters, where she could ponder the boy's identity, and recall his comforting arms and pleasant, calming scent.
**
For the first time that week Hermione slept peacefully, without faceless murderers or Death Eaters haunting her, and when she arose the next morning she felt as if she were recovering, even if it was only marginally.
She sat by Ginny at breakfast, who noticed her slightly improved demeanour. Hermione shared a weak smile with the red head in response to the raised eyebrow she had received, but did not expand. The meal continued uneventfully, and the post was delivered as usual, however it was after the exit of the hundreds of owls that Hermione noticed a small white object fluttering in the air underneath the clear blue sky reflected on the ceiling. It drew closer, fluttering in the vague breeze that blew in through the large doors of the Great Hall, before it landed gracefully in front of Hermione. It was a perfectly folded paper crane, with a neatly written message inscribed upon its wing:
'You will be okay'
It was not signed. Hermione knew that it had been sent by the boy who had helped her the previous day, but she still had no idea as to who he was, nor to what House he belonged. Running her fingers over the origami bird, she let a wan little smile adorn her face. Ginny glanced up from her meal; her eyes followed her friend's fingers as they traced the shape of the crane.
"Hermione?" The youngest Weasley questioned, curious about the 'gift'.
"Mm? Oh, Sorry Gin, I was just thinking…" She trailed off.
"Am I missing a crucial piece of information here?" Ginny gestured to the crane, speaking softly so as not to be overheard. "What does it say?"
Hermione looked back down at the words that graced the crisp white paper, traced her index over them once before looking back at Ginny.
"Can we talk?"
**
Ginny had been as perplexed as the older girl as to the identity of the boy, and had now taken to calling him 'Mystery Boy' in the presence of Hermione. They had sat, that lunch, in a position where they could casually peruse the Hall in an attempt to spy him, but he had not shown up at the Hufflepuff table – where she had firstly assumed he could be (after all he had been compassionate resulting in her conclusion that it was likely he was a badger from The Sett) – nor had he arrived at the Ravenclaw table, which was the reason for Hermione and Ginny to be sceptically and surreptitiously browsing the students at the Slytherin table.
"Hermione." Ginny said sharply, garnering the brunette's attention. "Is that him? He's five to the left of the Ferret." Hermione followed Ginny's directions and gazed upon a slender Slytherin with brown hair much the same as the boy from the library.
"I'm not sure, I didn't see his face…but it could be; I'll have to see him walking." Hermione admitted, her heart lifting ever so slightly. He was a seventh year too, but she couldn't recall having heard his name, a thought which frustrated her as she had certainly shared enough classes with the Slytherins to have at least learnt his name. Deep in thought as she tried to recall it, his exit was nearly missed until Ginny elbowed her violently in the side and accompanied it with a whisper.
"He's leaving, quick!"
As Hermione's chocolate coloured eyes followed his departure from the hall, she recognised his stride and gasped softly.
"It was him." She spoke it more to herself than to Ginny, who had her brows furrowed trying, just as Hermione had, to think of his name.
The petite brunette stood, abandoning her school books and bag, and walked out of the hall intent on finding the weedy Slytherin boy who had comforted her better than her friends. After leaving the noisy area she realised the ridiculousness of trying to find him when he could be anywhere in Hogwarts. Sighing, she wandered aimlessly to the library.
Quiet, as usual, she crept through the room towards the muggle poets, to where he had helped her, to where she felt the chance for recovery the most. Stopping as she reached the entrance of the isle, she saw that it was, unexpectedly, already occupied.
Her 'Mystery Boy' sat with his legs crossed at the far end. As she timidly approached, fumbling over questions in her mind, he looked up. A rueful smile planted itself on his features as she moved closer.
"Hi." He said it so softly it barely reached Hermione's ears. It was then Hermione noticed the small pile of perfectly square pieces of paper that were folding themselves into cranes. The Slytherin was not holding a wand Hermione noticed, and he seemed to sense her confusion because his cheeks adopted a pink tinge as he explained.
"Wand-less magic. I don't always mean to do it, and if I don't carry the paper around the magic will tear a page out whichever book is closest."
Tearing her eyes away from the small pile of cranes that was growing beside him, she looked into the boys hazel ones.
"Theodore Nott." Hermione breathed out his name in sudden recognition.
**
The first thing Hermione did was fall to floor and envelop him in a hug, her arms around his neck.
The second thing Hermione did was whisper 'Thankyou' into his robe as his arms came around her, reciprocating the hug.
The third thing Hermione did was pull her face away from his rising chest and kiss his cheek before burying her head in his shoulder.
The fourth thing was not initiated by Hermione; Theodore's gentle fingers turned her face towards his own as his lips sought hers, catching them sweetly before he pulled her back against him, encasing her in a hug that told her everything was going to be alright.
And it would be, eventually. In time, things would go back to where they should be and she would not feel lost anymore. Theodore Nott had saved her. Hermione smiled into his clothing; she, a 'Gryffindor Princess' had been rescued by a snake. Oh, the incomprehensibility of it, the Head Girl thought to herself as she rested comfortably against him.