Theodore sat without moving. To the untrained observer, it would appear that he was staring into thin air, as if in a brain-dead trance, not paying much attention to anything. On the off-beat occasion Draco found his way to this part of the library, he would take a rather heavy book off the shelves and plop it right down on the table in front of Theodore, shaking him from the eerie reverie.
He wasn't simply lost in his thoughts, however. Theodore remained motionless as he absorbed word for word from the book in front of him. No attention was paid to his immediate surroundings. It was strange; sometimes, he would cease reading and simply follow the curvatures and strokes of the type and calligraphy on the page. Perhaps, he thought to himself, there was something unequivocally enchanting when it came to personalizing each sentence, each word, each letter with one's own unique style of penmanship. Whether it be through a quill and ink or using letter-press and movable type, Theodore wondered about the effort each book maker took to create a beautiful succession of lines and pages.
There was a rumor about Muggles being able to instantly produce books, articles, newspapers, essays—"with the click of some button," a random Hufflepuff had said. Something put Theodore off with that knowledge; how could one translate their own esscence onto paper or parchment without using ink, or pressing the hand to the page, or becoming one with the writing?
It was with these thoughts in mind that Pansy found him. She pulled up a chair and sat across from him. He remained obvious; soaked up in his own space that he did not bother to register someone had joined him. With an obnoxious cough, Pansy drew his attention away from his inner-world and to her. She smiled rather maliciously, a very Slytherin undertone to her glee, and Theodore realized he had to step especially carefully.
"What?" Pansy asked innocently, the grin still on her face.
Theodore continued to stare. "You're never in the library."
She shrugged. "Can't a girl just stop by and say hi to—"
"No."
Pansy rolled her eyes. "Seriously, Theo. I'm here to talk."
"Bollocks. You don't 'talk'."
"Maybe not to you," she responded, and he knew she was hinting at Blaise. "But today I feel like gossiping…and things just so happen to revolve around you."
She stood up and grabbed hold of his upper arm. Dragging him forcefully to his feet, he made a strange noise; something between a whimper and an unpleasant gurgle.
"My books—"
"Will be exactly where you left them," Pansy interrupted. "Seriously, Theo, who even goes this deep into the library? They'll recognize your Slytherin territory and leave it alone."
She pulled him through the library. A puzzled look on Madam Pince's face followed them out. Theodore snatched his arm back and released himself from her vice-like grip. He straightened his top, trying to earn a bit of his dignity back. "I hope you're not punishing me for telling Draco about your fantasy concerning him and Blaise—"
Pansy whirled around. "You what!?"
Theodore shifted his eyes and looked everywhere except for Pansy's face. She pointed an accusatory finger into his chest. "You owe me drinks, Nott. I can't believe you overheard that. And told him!" She shook her head and her mood instantly changed. "Let's find an empty classroom."
She turned away from him and headed down the hall. "Can't we just talk here?" Theodore asked. A bit of sarcasm fell off his tongue as he added, "you know, like normal people?"
"Are you daft?" she responded over her shoulder, looking inside each passing room. "With news this good—and about a Gryffindor, no less—I can't risk it."
Theodore held in the urge to sigh. When Pansy got excited…she got excited. There was no way around it, and no way to beat it down into submission. He picked up his pace and caught up with her. She zoomed into an empty classroom on their right. Theodore casually looked around the corridor to see if anyone was watching.
While rolling her eyes, Pansy reached over and grabbed him by the tie. "Come on!" She tugged him into the room and he stumbled forward.
The door shut. They were in the dark. With a wordless spell, Theodore lit only a few of the candles around the room. A soft, warm light echoed off the walls and onto the shadows of himself and Pansy. He looked at her as the light flickered against her face, this way and that, riding against the strange curves of her neckline, her jaw, her cheekbones. It was strange and off-putting, to see Pansy in what had the potential to be an intimate moment. She was attractive, no doubt, but Theodore did not feel himself stir. He wondered, rather apathetically, if he would ever find company that could make his knees weak, his stomach full of butterflies, his palms strangely sweaty. Theodore couldn't remember if he had ever been with anyone who could make those kind of clichés happen.
"You'll never guess who I overheard talking in the girl's lavatory just a few minutes ago," Pansy said as she took a seat at one of the tables. She didn't wait for him to guess. "Granger and Weasley!"
Theodore showed no interest in her outburst of information. He hopped on a table, put his elbow to his knee and leaned his head against his closed hand in boredom. He blinked.
Pansy sighed rather loudly. "I guess we'll start easy, then," she said. "Do you think Granger is fit?"
He furrowed his brows in response and straightened his back. "What?"
"You know," she said, her hands moving in various directions as she talked, "pretty, sexy, beautiful, good enough to shag—"
"I know what it means, Pansy," Theodore snapped, insulted by her patronizing attitude. "I'm just curious as to why you want to know if I think the Princess of Gryffindor is fit."
"Just answer the question, Theo."
He squirmed, but only slightly. Pansy knew him well enough to take it as a good sign. "So that's a yes?"
"She's … well enough looking, I suppose," Theodore offered. "I haven't really thought of her like that."
"You probably haven't thought of any of us like that," Pansy smirked.
He let out a small, derisive chuckle because it was true. "Can't blame a bloke," he murmured. "There's such slim pickings at a school like Hogwarts—"
Pansy gave a genuine laugh and reached over to smack him lightly on the leg. "Theo, be serious for a moment. And by serious, I mean seriously, don't think. Just answer." She leaned forward and rested her chin on her clasped hands. "Would you ever snog Granger?"
Theodore folded his arms over his chest, not feeling comfortable with openly discussing his wants and desires. At least it was Pansy interrogating him, and not Blaise or Draco. "What did you overhear Granger and Weasley saying?"
The strategy worked. Pansy forgot about whatever path she was currently on and leapt straight into her longwinded story. Theodore barely listened at first; something about her and Blaise walking back to the dungeons, making out, having to use the loo, deciding to go to one of the nicer lavatories in the castle, and not wanting to leave the stall while two Gryffindors who possibly hated her were washing their hands and talking. Pansy ended up with her feet on the toilet, perched up so they couldn't see her, as she waited for them to leave. Theodore fought the urge to interrupt her; he knew, immediately, that Pansy was hiding her actual motives. The Pansy he had come to know—not in the carnal sense, but still—would have never, in a million years, pass up the opportunity to bully or tease two goody-goody Gryffindors in passing. He decided not to mention anything and tried to listen as she rambled on.
"And so the Weaslette started complaining about Draco," she continued, enraptured by her own recapturing of the moment. "How even on the Quidditch pitch, he was more nasty and hurtful to her whenever the two teams walked by each other…you know, for practice? Anyway, she was saying something about how Draco never misses the opportunity to scream out something about someone, particularly her, when Granger stopped her and asked why the war didn't make him change any kind of heart.
"The Weaslette said something about Draco not having a heart to begin with, and they laughed before the redhead said something ridiculously obtuse about Slytherins always being slimy, evil, yadda yadda yadda."
"Nothing we haven't heard before," Theodore added.
Pansy smirked. "The weird part was Granger, though."
A silence settled between them. He was forced to speak. "What about Granger?" he asked, hating how Pansy deliberately delayed information vital to the understanding of what the bloody hell she was even talking about.
"Well," Pansy drawled. "She kind of hesitated and said that she doesn't think all Slytherins are heartless."
Theodore felt his heart begin to pound lightly. He knew exactly where this was going, and he didn't like Pansy's instigations one bit.
"Then Weasley said, "Oh, yeah? Name one git from Slytherin who doesn't fancy you dead?" And Granger kind of shuffled around before saying, "Theodore Nott"."
Theodore inwardly groaned. Leave it up to a Gryffindor to cast some kind of light of goodness onto his shadow; his very much preferred shadow, where those he didn't want to know—namely, in this case, Weasley—knew absolutely nothing about him, in return.
It was no wonder Pansy was here, right now, manipulating her story in an attempt to squeeze an answer out of him. Theodore should have seen it coming. He mentally prepared himself for the worse kind of verbal flogging which went hand-in-hand with associating with Gryffindors.
"So Weasley kind of gave off this strange start, like she was surprised or something. Then I guess she remembered that bit in the Great Hall, where Draco teased Granger about wanting to shag you."
"I can briefly recall."
"Then she asks Granger if she likes you. And so she says, "Yeah, I like him…I mean, we study together in the library sometimes. And he's nice to me during class." You can imagine the look on Weasley's face when she says that—"
"Look?" Theodore prodded innocently. "But I thought you were in the stall, door closed? How were you able to see Weasley's expression?"
Pansy grinned, eyes lighting up with mischief. "I could never pull one over you, Theo. But really, back to the story, because that's not important. What is important is that Granger admitted that she wondered what it would be like to snog with you."
Theodore stared. Pansy, he realized, could be extremely girlish and immature at times. He really didn't understand it, but at the same time, he really didn't care. That's what makes her Pansy, he thought to himself. It made her all the more dangerous to talk to, seeing as her girlish charm—for lack of a better word—could disarm anyone.
"Why was it so important to tell me this?" he asked her as he stood up.
"I want to know what's going on," Pansy said.
"There's nothing to gossip about," he responded, heading for the door. She followed him. "Really, Pans. I would know."
"Then what's the game?" Pansy asked nonchalantly. A spark of inquisitiveness lit up almost instantly in her eyes. "Does it have to do with the Salazar secret you're researching? Are you using her just as a pawn for research?"
Theodore opened the door, but did not step out of the room. "Why would you ask that?"
She strode up to him and fastened his loose tie. "Not sure if you've noticed lately," she said, "but you are a Slytherin."
"I've got no plans with Granger," he snapped a bit aggressively.
Pansy blinked dumbly, as if trying to see him for the first time under new lights. "So you really aren't playing her for something?"
"What would I play her for?"
She began to get hostile. "I don't know, Nott. Anything! I mean, it's one thing to hang out with the know-it-all Mudblood when you've got some sort of plan. It's another thing entirely to do it just for shits and giggles."
Theodore started toward the library. He didn't hear Pansy following him. He wasn't sure if that was a good or a bad thing.
As soon as he stepped into the library, something felt off. He rushed as calmly as possible to his place at the back, and there it was. Granger was, once again, at his table. In his seat. Reading his notes, his books. Invading his personal space; or at least, the space he had become so attached to the last seven or so years of school.
She must have heard him coming, because she looked up in a panic. He would have chuckled to himself if he weren't furious. First Pansy and her nonsensical attack on his budding relationship with Granger. Now Granger herself and her deer-in-the-headlights stare as she's fishing through his parchment.
"Granger." It came out unexpectedly when he reached her. She was looking up at him, unmoving, staring sheepishly. He didn't recognize his own voice for a split-second. Her name came out in a strange, low growl. He hoped he was the only one who noticed.
"Hi, Nott," she said rather meekly. Theodore wasn't use to the Head Girl being so quiet and shy. Then again, he rarely caught her examining his belongings when he was nowhere to be found.
He remained standing, looking down at her. Her gaze flickered back and forth between his stare and his open books. It wasn't long before the need to babble broke her down.
"I'm sorry," Granger blurted, breaking away from his gaze and motioning at the books. "I knew this was your area, and I knew you had to be in the loo or behind the stacks. I came, sat down, and I really didn't intend for anything to fall. It's just, when I set my bag down, some of your notes…"
She trailed off into silence and Theodore ran a hand through his hair before sitting down beside her. "Fine, Granger." He turned towards her. "You've got to swear you won't tell anyone about this."
He began collecting his things. She helped him.
"Now can I help you unearth Salazar Slytherin's secret society?"
x.x.x.
It was the end to a long week. Pansy must have distilled her suspicions about Theodore and presented them to Blaise and Draco, because even they began to ask him about Granger. The truth was he didn't want to be bothered by things that seemed insignificant in the long run. Who cared if Granger was helping him piece together the past? What did it matter if he and Granger took to talking frequently during class? Hogwarts would let out in a several months and they'd both graduate, heading off in completely different directions.
Draco had taken to cornering him in his own dormitory room the night before. He asked Theodore why he had been seeing a lot of Gryffindor attached to his arm, lately.
"We're not attached, you prat," Theodore grumbled as he put his bag on the floor.
"Oh?" Draco piped. "That's odd. I could have sworn you two were connected at the hip, seeing as she's always by your side when we pass you in the halls."
"Sod off, Draco."
"So Pansy was right. You do fancy the Mudblood."
Theodore rolled his eyes. "Just because we're friends, doesn't mean we're anything alike. I don't automatically feel like snogging every girl who displays the least bit of interest in me."
Draco stepped up to Theodore as the latter undid his tie. "And what's that supposed to mean?"
Theodore simply tossed his tie onto his bed and turned away from the blond. He lifted his sweater over his head and began unbuttoning his white-collar long-sleeve. Draco walked to the door, but didn't leave.
"Might want to be there when your girlfriend unveils her newest Muggle Literature gimmick," he mentioned without feeling.
"Of course I'll be there," Theodore asked in his dangerously playful tone. "Always a treat seeing the smugness wiped clean off of your face."
Draco left the room and Theodore closed his door. Undoing his belt, his mind wandered to Granger and he shook his head. It was going to be a long weekend, what with her Muggle demonstration by the lake and all.
She had mentioned the idea of a presentation to Theodore earlier in the week.
"It'll certainly bring a crowd, no matter what their feelings are," Granger argued enthusiastically. "And if I could just get them to see that parts of Muggle culture aren't as bad as they've been led to believe, I'm sure the rest of the students will be up for a little less tension between Purebloods and Mudbloods and Muggles."
Theodore laughed in spite of himself. "Whatever you say."
She touched his arm and stared at him intently. "You'll come, right?"
"Come where?"
"I'm not sure of the location, but I mean to the demonstration," she said. "When I show the students what Muggles are capable of making."
He didn't promise her anything. He didn't outright refuse, either.
Theodore was not surprised, then, to find himself on that Saturday night walking to the Hogwarts Lake. The sky was cloudy and there were hardly any stars. The moon was new and made the night sag heavily. Theodore wondered about the darkness, why Granger had chosen this night, of all the autumn nights, to display her Muggle talents.
When he arrived, there was a rather large crowd. He made his way to the front by creeping along the edge of the crowd, circling until he arrived at a clear view. Granger and the other Head, some Ravenclaw Theodore barely knew, were standing at the front. The Ravenclaw was silent, but Granger was animated and brought life to the deadened night as she spoke to the professors and the Headmistress. The half-breed giant was by her side; so was Potter and Weasley. Weasley's older brother, the one who was part of the Golden Trio, was also there. Theodore smirked to himself as he imagined the type of conversation that forced Weasley back to the school grounds.
A thought appeared out of nowhere and took hold of him, sinking itself into his skin. Did Granger's friends know about him? Did she tell them about their meetings at the library, their time in class together? He knew she would never tell them about their research on the secret society—leave it up to Gryffindors to stay loyal as them come, regardless of who that loyalty was to. Theodore remembered Weasley had a temper. It unnerved him when he realized that he would rather face the angry redhead than abandon whatever had developed between himself and Granger. She made the time pass, especially now that Pansy and Draco were avoiding him—Blaise, too, but mostly because of Pansy.
Silence settled over the crowd. Theodore took out his pocket watch; exactly thirty minutes until curfew. Of course Granger would manage to hold a spectacle within the limits of Hogwarts' rules.
Theodore watched as she magically amplified her voice and spoke among the crowd. Even booming, he didn't listen to her words. He simply watched. Observed the way her robes glided back and forth as she moved. How her hair was everywhere, but it probably kept her head and ears warm, anyway. The way she didn't have those inane and girlish hand gestures like Pansy, but had developed something much more professional and mature. He noticed her rapport with the crowd was quite enchanting.
Suddenly, the trees around them began to glow. Theodore's eyes widened in slight surprise as he glanced from one tree to the next. There were strange little circles of lights—patches, really—and they blinked on and off. They were brighter than some of the stars Theodore had seen. The small circles of light was harsh on his eyes but they had a strange magical quality to them. They blinked in rapid succession, some unsolvable puzzle Theodore had no idea how to decode. There were various colors, as well, and he guessed that was what captivated him the most. The lights were not simply white, or orange like flames. They were unnatural, alien. Blue, like aquamarine mermaids. Green, and not Slytherin green, but something with much more light attached to it, like limes and grapes from the Great Hall feasts. Red, like freshly-picked strawberries; the ripe kind his mother used to harvest when he was young. Yellow, like the kind you would use if you wanted to paint some disgustingly happy landscape.
Students left and right were making noises of strange satisfaction. "Ooohs" and "aaahs" filled the crowd and Theodore had to clamp his mouth shut to keep from joining the heard.
"How did you do this? Is it magic?"
"What's the source? Where does it start?"
"Does it burn?"
"How do you stop it? How do you turn it on?"
"Can it go on forever?"
"Can I touch it?"
Questions were thrown into the night air and even Theodore was curious. He watched intently as Granger silenced the crowd and began explaining…something about Christmas lights, about artificial lights. More about potatoes and potions and wires and elec-tris-sit-tee. Theodore looked around him and noted the reflection of those lights upon the faces of his peers. The scene was drastically different from the one he had witnessed a few weeks ago, where the cry against the Muggle Literature section had started in the first place. He briefly wondered if Draco was among those in the crowd, or if Pansy could see the lights from the Astronomy Tower as she made out with Blaise. He chuckled and imagined the looks on their faces upon seeing these elec-tris-sit Christmas lights from afar. The things probably look like charmed fireflies, dancing in the trees.
Theodore turned toward Granger once more, enjoying her obvious glee. Something inside of him warmed and glowed at her expression of excitement. The presentation was a success, from the looks of the crowd. She had managed to convince even him of the possible magic found within Muggles and their technology.