Theodore noticed Granger took great lengths to avoid him in the days following the Great Hall incident. It was annoying, to say the least, if only because she severely lacked tact. Whenever he would round a corner with her on the other side, she'd confuse her steps and fumble with her directions, muttering something to her friends and heading in the opposite direction. He would have found it funny if it didn't happen so often.

On his way to Arithmancy one afternoon, Theodore noticed Granger and her friends standing by the doorway. He sighed in annoyance. Potter walked away from the two girls as Theodore walked toward the classroom.

Granger visibly stiffened. Theodore noticed Weasley's hand on the Head Girl's arm as he shifted the strap of his bag to his other shoulder. "Weasley," Theodore said, eyeing the girls with an apathetic front. "Granger."

The former smiled slightly and said her goodbyes. Granger awkwardly said hello before finding her way to a seat. Theodore chose to sit down next to her. She thumbed her textbook absentmindedly.

"You need to stop," he said, without turning his head to face her.

Granger ceased moving. "Excuse me?"

"You're always so flabbergasted around me," Theodore explained. "It doesn't suit you. And Merlin knows it bloody annoys the hell out of me."

Granger sighed and he glanced at her as she ran a hand over her frizzy long hair. He briefly wondered how thick it was.

"It is a bit silly," Granger admitted. "You just caught me off guard."

"How?"

"With that philosophical Slytherin diatribe back at the library," she said. "It…it made the slightest of sense."

Theodore looked to the front of the room and smirked. "Only the slightest?"

"Only the slightest," she echoed.

Their meetings remained neutral from then on. They would exchange nods, or smiles, or simple stares of familiarity while passing in the halls. It appeared as though she mentioned something about him to Potter and Weasley; Theodore could only guess at this because Weasley started to give him small smiles, and Potter simply didn't make eye-contact with him, anymore. A lessened amount of glares from the Golden Boy was always a good thing in Theodore's book.

Even so, it surprised him when Granger caught up with him after class, one evening. She had practically run after him, with her bookbag slung over her shoulder sloppily, a pile of parchment and books in her arms. Her face was flushed and her hair was everywhere.

"Hi Nott," she said breathlessly.

Theodore almost smiled in spite of himself. He settled for raising his eyebrows. "Granger."

"Are you planning on hitting the library any time today?"

He nodded. "Probably an hour before curfew. Planning on doing a bit of outside research."

Her eyes lit up and he imagined she might have that same look on Christmas. "Outside research?"

Theodore shifted his weight and placed his hands in his slacks' pockets. "Yeah."

"On what?" Granger prodded. "Maybe I can help. I've got a few moments free from my Head Girl duties today, so if you're going before curfew I could—"

"It…might not be your cup of tea, Granger," Theodore interrupted with a small grin. Her eyes widened.

"It's not…dark magic, is it?"

He bit his tongue. With a sophisticated level of restraint, he chose to shrug in response before walking away nonchalantly. He missed the curious expression upon Granger's face.

Theodore made his way through the castle and a fresh, autumn breeze welcomed him upon exit. Free to roam with no more classes in the evening, he strolled towards the Hogwarts Lake, careful not to brush against any branches and tear his robes.

Pansy, Blaise, and Draco were sitting by the water—not too close, but close enough. A handful of other Slytherins from lower years surrounded them. This has become one of our sanctuaries, Theodore realized. He scanned the area and saw only a few other students from different houses around the lake. Slytherin, unlike during the hours within Hogwarts, was the majority here.

"They've already got Muggle Studies," Theodore overhead a distressed Pansy wail. "What more do they want?!"

Blaise glanced at Theodore as he neared the group. "Did you hear what the Head Girl has been up to?"

"Unfortunately it's nothing naughty," Draco drawled, looking down at his tie. Theodore placed his bag on the grass and straightened his grey vest.

"She wants to add a Muggle Literature section in the library," Pansy exclaimed, as if it were the worst kind of torture she could think of.

Theodore raised an eyebrow. "You don't even use the library."

Draco shook his head. "That's not the point, Nott." He picked up a branch off the ground and fiddled with it. "Once you start answering the Mudbloods' war reprimands, it'll never stop."

"We'll have to keep decreasing our culture in order to make room for theirs," Pansy added.

"Either way, it doesn't look good for either side," Blaise said.

"A Muggle Literature section in the library would be just the tip of the iceberg."

"You can bet they'll start asking—"

"No, demanding—"

"—for Muggle technology."

"Accepting Muggle students into Hogwarts!"

"The end of magic!"

Theodore watched, a bit in awe, as his Slytherin counterparts swarmed together. It was the epitome of mob mentality. The conversation grew large and frantic; several students talked amongst themselves at the same time. What stunned Theodore was the fact that it wasn't only Slytherin students paying attention; a scattered number of people around the lake from other houses began closing in. They listened in on the frenzy, perhaps even agreeing with it.

Night closed in on the group. Theodore picked up his bag and stepped away from the loud talk, minding his business while keeping a close eye on them. His eyes moved upward and he noticed, for the first time in a long time, the darkened sky. The sun was behind them, now. There was a pale, light streak behind the clouds—a counterglow of the sun, Theodore remembered from Astronomy class. It was not bright. It was as if someone had slashed the sky itself and, unnoticed by mortals, the lackluster glow existed only to stained the night.

His attention returned to the mass of students by the lake. They began to walk back to the castle, conversing amongst themselves despite house discrimination. He could have sworn he saw Draco nodding to something a Hufflepuff said. Theodore was surprised to find himself somewhat anxious on the behalf of Granger.

x.x.x

Supper in the Great Hall was not what Theodore expected. There was no thick tension, no mutterings about Muggles. No talk of Granger, either. He was beginning to suspect what he witnessed outside was just the start of a rumor. Besides, even Granger had to know that a Muggle Literature section in the library wouldn't do the least bit of good for anyone at Hogwarts.

After the war, there was the punishment. Theodore's own father passed away during some battle or another—Draco had overheard it while at the Manor and sent an owl to Theodore's desolate home. Draco's own father managed to get only a year in Azkaban; nothing, really, considering the variety of roles he played in according to the Dark Lord's plans. Pansy and Blaise's parents only had to pay retribution in the form of galleons. Considering how well-off both of their families are, it was hardly a problem.

After the punishment, there was the cleansing. It started very small. A lecture here or there at some wizarding institution about some new Muggle contraption. Author Weasley spearheading a new department at the Ministry concerned with the relationship between Muggles and Magic Persons. An article or two in the Daily Prophet demonizing another convicted Death Eater. Theodore was quite honestly surprised that he and the other offspring of Death Eaters and Death Eater sympathizers did not have to go through some kind of rigorous test in order to return to Hogwarts. Not that the Slytherin experience had been any less brutal following the aftermath of the war, of course.

Barely anything talk was brewing on the Slytherin side of the Great Hall. Theodore supposed everyone was lost in their thoughts, feeling a bit isolated after the revelation of a Muggle Literature section. It was like the Mudbloods and Muggle lovers were constantly picking at an unseen scab, forcing those who did not originally agree with blood-purity to retreat deeper into the comfortable area of hate. After all, Theodore mused bitterly, if they don't want you to join them, collect your own group and hate them from a distance. And isn't that exactly what some of the Slytherins, as well as a small group of students from other houses, were doing now?

Excusing himself from the table, Theodore wandered through the castle and headed for the dungeons. He whispered the password—even when he was alone, he whispered it; some habits of distrust would never melt away—and found his way to his dormitory. It took him only a few minutes to search through his personal collection of books and notes. When he found what he was looking for, he stuffed them into his bag without haste. By the time he made it into the library, it was a little after eight o'clock, and of course Granger was sitting at his table, in his spot, reading a book.

She looked up and spotted him. A small wave was issued, and Theodore got a chance to witness the bewildered look on Madam Pince's face. Perhaps being with Granger would prove to be worthwhile, after all; he would certainly have to thank her for lessening Pince's hawk-like glares.

"Granger," he said softly, placing his bag on the table and pulling up a seat next to her.

"Nott," she whispered in greeting, adhering to the unspoken rules within the quarter of books.

She tapped her quill against the desk while Theodore took out his things. She was curious about his research, he realized. Smirking to himself, he decided to let her dangle a little longer.

"What are you working on?" he asked without tearing his eyes away from his books.

"Just a side project," she responded flippantly.

Theodore didn't feel like taking the bait. "Is what they say true?"

She blinked. "What is what they say?"

He turned his full attention on to Granger, who looked weary about the next words to come out of his mouth. "You're petitioning for a Muggle Literature section, here in the library."

It came out as a statement rather than an intended question. Theodore hoped she would disprove its validity.

"Yes," Granger answered carefully, but with resolution. "I've been working on a draft of proposal for McGonagall. I plan on launching a full-scale campaign, much like with S.P.E.W., to gather my fellow students' support."

He wanted to mention the good S.P.E.W. did, what with the no one caring bit, but thought better of it. There was a shift between them, almost immediately. Something in the air transitioned from an awkward, friendly level to something very cold, professional and distant. He strung together his words thoughtfully. "Why do we need Muggle Literature in the Wizarding world?"

Granger sighed and shifted in her seat. Quietly, she responded, "there's so much hypocrisy surrounding the Wizarding community, especially now that Voldemort is dead and his followers dismantled." She eyed him to judge his reaction. When he gave none, she continued. "People who are against that sort of prejudiced thinking, against notions such as mudblood and pureblood, still follow those conventions without thinking too much about it."

"What do you mean?"

"What I mean is, just because people fought against Voldemort, doesn't mean they necessarily agree with the idea that Muggles are equal to Witches and Wizards."

Theodore blinked. "That's because they aren't."

"Why not?"

He turned his body toward her and fiddled with his tie. "We're superior. We've got magical capabilities which far exceed normal Muggle powers."

"But aren't we all human?"

He narrowed his eyes and shook his head slightly. "Bollocks. One type of human is quite obviously better than the other." He paused to look at her. "Wouldn't you rather hold onto your powers as a witch, than simply exist as a Muggle?"

"Why can't I be both?"

"What do you mean, both?" he accidentally blurted out, the tradition of thinking before speaking escaping him. "You can't be both. You're either one or the other."

"Or you're mixed," Granger persisted. "Isn't that what a Mudblood is? Someone from the Muggle community, who happens to possess an affinity and ability for magic."

He shook his head. "I don't see how introducing Muggle Literature into Hogwarts will do us any good."

"We've got to learn about the traditions and cultures of others, right?" Granger offered enthusiastically. "This'll give some student a chance to go beyond their comfort zone and embrace something different than what they're used to."

"But we don't even exist to Muggles."

"Because we choose not to!"

"And with good reason. You want the era of witch hunting to come back?"

Granger huffed. "The practice of witch hunting was merely an excuse for misogynistic exploits, rather than the actual search for magical—"

Their conversation came to a halt when Madam Pince came to their table. "Ten minutes till curfew," she noted before heading to the back of the library. Theodore took the opportunity to glance around the area; he and Granger were the only students left.

"Drat," Granger said, upon realization of the time. "I've got to go organize the prefects."

Theodore stretched out in his chair. "Isn't that why there's two heads? So that you don't get your knickers in a twist over all your duties?"

Granger suppressed a smile. "Boot doesn't nearly take his responsibilities nearly as serious as I do," she answered, packing her things. "As a result, I get a lot more assignments."

"I'm sure," he smirked. Theodore stood and arranged his reading material into his bag. Casually, he added, "are there any Slytherin prefects?"

Her movements slowed as she thought it over. Her silence gave Theodore the answer straight away. "Now that I think about it," she said. "No…no, I don't think so."

Slinging his bag over his shoulder, Theodore shrugged. "Figures. What with the hypocrisy and prejudice you've been going on about."

She brought her hand to her hip, ready to retort. Nothing came. Theodore brought two fingers to his head and gave her a small salute before sauntering out.