Part 6: A Point Where Two Lines Meet

After eating dinner the next day, Hermione headed to her office. She sat at her desk, turned on her electric kettle, and laid out her papers from her knapsack. Once the water boiled, she poured herself a cup of tea, and started to work. She needed to finalize the prefect responsibilities and schedule for the Halloween Ball. There was little more to do, but she needed it finished by the end of the night. An hour passed solemn. She got to a place she was comfortable with: now, all that was needed was Draco's opinion and approval. She stood up from her desk, draped her bag around her shoulder, and headed towards Gryffindor.

Once she entered the house, she passed through the common room. As per usual, the Quidditch team lounged on the couches. In the centre, Harry laughed with his bellowing voice. She cut her way towards her dorm room, and sat down on her bed. Letting out a deep breath, she laid down for a moment. The light above her burnt a vibrant glow into her eyes. She sat up, headed to the washroom, splashed her face with water, and brushed her hair. Dressed in a tight red t-shirt, and blue jeans, she left her dorm, slipped through the common room, and left the house.

There, outside the door, stood Ron Weasley.

"Hey Hermione," he said. "Sneaking out?"

She kept moving, "sorry Ron, no time to talk."

The hallway was as empty as it was three days before. The pervasive silence rang in her ears. Again, the only noise came from the steps of her black runners: tap, tap, tapping on the ground. Every once in a while, a creak could be heard from some dark and distant place around a corner, always around a corner. She climbed the stairs of the east tower. No light came through the windows. The sky was overcast and blank. On the landing, she stood in front of 702. She took a deep breath. Her heart raced. With a flick of her wrist, she knocked.

After a moment, the door handle turned, and it opened a crack. This time, however, no loud music played. Instead, a boy with black hair stared through the sliver. Nott stayed silent for a moment, before opening the door enough for Hermione to sneak through. She lowered her head, and walked in.

The room was empty. Nott walked towards the table where his black backpack, and his pack of cigarettes had been placed. He sat back into a chair, and held his head in his hands. He wore a blue button up shirt, with the sleeves rolled up high on his arms, and tight black pants.

"That manipulative bitch," he said through his hand. "She always does this."

"What?" Hermione asked.

"She loves getting her little fingers in everyone else's business. It's like everyone's just a doll to Tracey, ready to be played with. Fuck!" he nearly yelled.

Lull. Still. She held her breath.

"Nott, I wanted to say I was sorry," she began to speak.

"No!" he interjected. "Don't you fucking dare. You have nothing to apologize for."

"Look, I know you didn't mean anything by your comment. I overreacted. You don't owe me anything. It was wrong for me to expect you to care."

"Stop! Don't be like that. You were right to care. I... I do care," he said. "Hermione, I don't know why I said those things to you. I panicked! Okay?" He grabbed his pack of cigarettes from the table, and placed one in his mouth. He mumbled the incantation "condeliquescio" with a flick of his wand, brought his hand to his face, and lit the tip. "I'm the one who's sorry. I'm so sorry. You were right. I am the worst." He rubbed his eyes. "I think I've been so alone the past couple of years, I'm still not used to spending time with people. I'd thought about the first time we'd really speak for so long, when the moment came, I was overpowered. It was dizzying, and I couldn't think, and I couldn't speak."

He continued: "What I said couldn't have been further from the truth. I think you're great. You're so smart, and witty, and cool. It doesn't matter who your friends are. You are so much more, despite your shitty friends. Judging you on those lines, makes me just as bad as they are."

Hermione breathed deeply. "Do you really think I'm different from them though? I've been thinking about what you said, and admittedly, Harry and Ron are not perfect. They have their faults. And, how they treat you guys really is shitty. And, it's not like I call them out on it. I really am not that much better."

"Of course you're better," he insisted. "It's not you who said those things. And you don't owe it to the world to fix all of your friends faults. Plus," he shrugged his shoulders, "you hung out with us, and was totally cool. They'd never do that. If they did, then maybe they wouldn't be so bad too," he paused "well... I'll reserve judgement on that."

"Fair enough." she sighed. "Still, do you not think I'm a little stuck up for you guys? Wayne was right, I hate breaking the rules, and I had to bite my tongue when you guys started to smoke. I'm just a cog in the system."

"You're not a cog. Sure, you might be involved in it, but not like that. Think of it this way: a cog is just a mindless follower in a machine, that does as it's told. You're not like that at all. You question, and, even though you had to bite your lip, you still did a hit, right? You actually participate, you influence, you lead: that's cool. I mean, you are the Head Girl, that's cool."

"You think me being the Head Girl is cool? I wouldn't expect that."

"Sure! Cause at least you're an active participant. You think about what you're doing. You actually make decisions. It can't be too hard to imagine my opinion on the matter, I mean, I'm friends with Draco. And, sure, that guy might have some fucked up, and frankly wrong, opinions about will to power, and the ubermensch, but he's still a cool dude. He might be the most genuine person I know. He really cares about this school, and Slytherin, and what he does. So, why wouldn't I think it's cool that you're the head girl?"

"I guess I never thought about it like that."
"That's all I wanted to say. I'd be alright if you didn't want to hang out again."

"What? Why would I want to do that?"

He tipped his cigarette ash. "I'm awful," he said. "I've just felt so destructive all week. It's awful, I'm horrible. Why would you want to surround yourself with such an asshole? I couldn't talk to you for a minute without insulting you and your friends."

"Nott, It's okay. We all make mistakes." She tried to reassure.

"I just," he breathed deeply. "I just hate myself. I tried to change over the summer, and change my style, and change my attitude. But, to be honest, I don't feel any happier. If anything, I feel like the more I try to be social, or active, the worse things get. I really did imagine, for the longest time, the first time we'd really talk. We see each other all the time, but it just never happened. I didn't really think it would ever happen, that is, until it did happen, and I fucked it up."

"Don't be like that Nott!" Hermione raised her voice. "Sure, there's more chances to be hurt when you expose yourself to others, but that shouldn't be a reason to hate yourself. There will always be a necessary amount of risk in your life, and you can't avoid everything in a vain hope to escape it. And I really liked our night together. I barely think about the end. I think about all the fun we had, which wouldn't be there unless you tried."

"I guess. I just wish it went better."

"Well, you'll never get a chance to change it, that's life," she breathed deeply, "but, maybe we can try again?"

"Do you have anything in mind?"

"The Halloween Ball. Go with me to the Halloween Ball."

"The Halloween Ball? Shit, I wasn't even thinking of attending. Aren't you going with Draco?"

"Well, yes, officially. But, not really. It's not like we're going as an item. Draco's really going with Pansy."

"Would we be going as an item then?" Nott asked.

"Would you like to?"

He paused for a moment. "Sure, I guess."

"Me too."

"Oh, Hermione?"

"Yeah?"

"You can call me Theo.

"Okay," she said, her voice reserved. He put out his cigarette on the table. A searing hush fell over them.

...

Author's Notes:

Thank you for all the kind reviews on the last chapter. I'm glad you're all enjoying this story.

Recently I've been caught up in style, neurotically trying to build up and break down everything I've written: writing, rewriting, rewriting, rewriting, and then throwing it all out. There are so many pages of nonsense and half built ideas, that weigh heavy on me.

It's been fun writing this story: it makes it all feel a little lighter.

Next up: the Halloween Ball.

Please Leave a Review.

Thanks. BJ.