Disclaimer: Harry Potter is the property of J.K. Rowling. I am in no way affiliated with her. This is not a profitable work. No copyright infringement is intended. Thank you.
Châtain Foncé & Nightmares
Chapter Two: Breeds Contempt
"Right," she conceded, feeling her cheeks burn a little again. There was another empty silence, and he was still looking back at her. "Why're you up so late?"
Hermione was expecting a 'Why are you?' but instead she got an actual answer, though she wasn't sure if it was sarcastic or not.
"I had a nightmare. Thought I'd come read."
eoOoe
Theodore watched the Gryffindor, wondering vaguely how she'd respond. He was sure he seemed strange to her. He always got the impression people thought he was strange when he talked to them too much, which was one of the reasons he refrained from talking. Not that he really cared what they thought, but he'd rather nor waste his time on people unwilling to take him seriously.
Her cheeks were rather pink. That meant she must be embarrassed. Had he embarrassed her? With his staring? It wasn't his fault, she'd been staring first. It was certainly polite to stare when someone was staring at you. Hermione Granger was wearing a deep red bathrobe and her hair was pulled back into a messy braid, probably in some attempt to keep it from getting messier over night. She had very messy hair, though, he doubted it made much of a difference. It did look pretty in a braid, though, he wondered why she didn't wear it like that during the day, maybe then Ronald Weasley would finally make like a Gryffindor and ask her out.
"I'm sorry to hear that," she finally replied. She didn't seem to be making fun of him. She was watching him almost curiously.
"It's alright," Theodore replied, "I'm used to them."
"Do you have them often?" she looked a little alarmed, and he worried he'd said too much, but she looked a bit concerned, too, which he thought was rather kind seeing as they were hardly close.
Theodore shrugged, then hesitantly added, "Often enough, but when something happens often enough it loses effect."
She was frowning. Her lips were a light sort of pink, and he couldn't tell if they clashed or matched marvelously with her robe. "Maybe, but 'familiarity breeds contempt.'"
Theodore reached out a pulled a book off of a nearby shelf. He studied the title page, recognized the author, and closed it again, quickly putting it back on the shelf. When he looked up he saw that the Gryffindor was still studying him, and when he made eye contact she seemed to blush a little more. Ah, so she was embarrassed he'd caught her staring. He wanted to tell her that he didn't really mind, that he was rarely ever stared at, and that he liked experiencing new things like this, because then he could figure out how to fake-it in the future, but he didn't.
Instead, he said, "I believe that saying makes little sense in this context," he paused, then continued, his tone blank as ever, "It goes hand in hand with, 'too much of a good thing.' If you become overly familiar with something, you'll begin to dislike it—but that's assuming you didn't already dislike it. If you did, then you'd have 'too much of a bad thing,' instead, and too much of a bad thing is a good thing. So, in my case, instead of familiarity breeding contempt, it's bred fondness. But, of course, I don't enjoy nightmares at all, but indifference is a step closer to fondness and a step away from hatred. So, really, having nightmares has, you could say, almost made me immune."
He grabbed another book of the shelf and began to study its title page.
eoOoe
Hermione was shocked, to say the least, when the quiet, disheveled boy who'd seemed to be less than enthusiastic about having a conversation with her suddenly started explaining, with an odd sort of logic, why he disagreed with her. She was about to reply when he took a second book off a shelf and began skipping it's pages. Was that meant to signal the end of their discussion? Was he really that uninterested? Was he trying to be casual? Why did Slytherins always have such straight noses? What book was that? Should she say something?
Then he looked up again, catching her staring again. She though that they mind end up setting some sort of record—which would be nice, because then she could see her own name published in one of these books.
"But just because too much of a good thing is bad it doesn't mean that too much of a bad thing is good. Being hexed once is awful, but being hexed more times is simply more awful," she finally said, her words spoken rapidly as she tried to pretend like she hadn't been staring.
"It's possible to be hexed to the point where you're numb."
"Yes, but-but, what I mean it, what you said before—that hardly applies to all situations!"
He just shrugged again, which frustrated her. It had been so brilliant when he'd talked, interesting, at least, why did he have to start being quiet again?
She waited a moment, hoping he'd say something more, but he didn't. She saw him reaching for another book as he placed the one in his hands back on the shelf, so she quickly added, "But—but I guess you'd know better than me how it is to have nightmares all the time. I'm sorry. That was rude of me."
He watched her with this large brown eyes again. She wondered if he was going to do anything at all, even shrug. The silence was growing uncomfortable again, but this time it was he who spoke. "It's fine. I'm glad you don't have nightmares all the time. I lied, anyway, you were right. They're just as bad every time, they don't really get any better."
eoOoe
Theodore felt a little bad. He'd made her think it necessary to apologize, which it hardly was. She hadn't done anything wrong. If she'd been rude, he hadn't notice. He didn't usually notice when people were rude—or polite, for that matter. It crossed his mind that perhaps he'd been rude, and that's why she'd apologized, but then that hardly made much sense. People were so confusing, they weren't logical creatures, they were all built of emotion and passion and selflessness. Girls, especially, were confusing, though he'd never admit out loud that he found one gender more complicated than the other.
"Oh, I'm sorry," she apologized again.
Theodore was certain that it wasn't necessary, so he quickly replied, "You don't have to apologize."
"No, I mean, I'm sorry you have to go through that—nightmares, I mean." The girl turned a little pink again and looked down.
He watched her, considering what to say. She finally looked up, seeming to think that he'd left by then, and he felt he should say something quickly, so he murmured, "Oh. Well, that's alright. Better a nightmare than the real thing."
She nodded and paused a moment before asking, "What book is that, by the way?" and gestured to the large leather-bound book in his arms.
He looked down at it and read the title, "The Obliviator: Mnemone Radford and Her Work, A Biography by Garfip Daybridge."
Her eyes lighted up a little, and she said, all to quickly, "Oh! I read that, it was wonderful! The bits on her theory were a bit vague, but a lot of it was censored out by the ministry in the English editions."
A small smile passed across Theodore's lips and he murmured, "I read it a while ago, thought it might be worth reading again," then he looked up at the girl, his smile fading a little, as though he'd just realized he'd been smiling, and he added, "There's a French version that's easy to find, but the theory's not much better. It just includes a bit more about how long your wand should stay in each position."
zxXxz
