Chapter 3: Don't let me interrupt your fun

When Theo wakes on the morning of the first day of classes, he has the brief feeling that he may have died and gone to hell. Why else would the light coming in through his bed curtains be bright red? Why else would the first sound he hears be the voice of Ron Weasley?

"D'you really think Malfoy could have had something to do with it?" Weasley asks, his voice low, but clearly audible from Theo's position one bed over.

"I dunno," Potter replies, sighing. "It just doesn't make sense. The Hat can't have done it on it's own… Someone made it switch them. It's like the bloody Goblet of Fire all over again."

"What if it was," Weasley's voice drops even lower, making his whisper barely audible, "You-Know-Who?"

Theo nearly scoffs aloud at the ridiculousness of Weasley, both his tone and his words.

"But what would he get out of putting Hermione in Slytherin?" Good question, Potter.

"Maybe he wants him" — Weasley whispers again — "to spy on us!"

"That's true…" Potter says. "His father's a Death Eater too, if Malfoy's joined up, Nott easily could have as well…"

Theo, again, has to try not to scoff. As if being a Death Eater was a club you just 'joined up' to. He's lucky, really, that it was Mr. Malfoy rather than his father who was in charge at the Department of Mysteries. If it had been the other way…

"Do you really think Malfoy's a Death Eater, Harry?"

"You didn't hear him on the train… He practically admitted it."

"And you're sure he wasn't just showing off for Parkinson?"

"No, this was after everyone else was gone." Potter pauses. "I think whatever he's up to is really serious."

The dormitory is silent for a moment, the words settling over them.

"Would Malfoy — would he hurt Hermione, do you think?" Weasley asks, his voice cracking.

Theo wonders about it, as though it was him who'd been asked. He honestly doesn't know. Draco's a good friend, one of the best. Brilliant and fun and hilarious and loyal and sometimes kind of an egotistical prick, but in, like, a lovable way.

And, also. He lashes out when he's threatened. Gets mad easily. Hates, hates, hates to lose. So if Granger provoked him? Yes, Draco would hurt her.

If she didn't? He still might torment her anyway. He's always had a bit of a dark, jealous obsession with her. It's entirely possible he'll go after Granger just because he can.

"I wouldn't put anything past Malfoy," Potter says ominously.

"We've got to talk to her," Weasley says. "What time is it? Too early for her to be down at breakfast yet?"

Yes. It's still the crack of bloody dawn. At least two of the room's other occupants are fast asleep, snoring loudly.

Theo's had enough. He pulls his bed curtains open. Potter and Weasley both whirl their heads around in shock.

"Yeah, I'd say it's too early for breakfast," Theo drawls. "And here's another hot tip: If you think there's a spy in the room, maybe try not waking them up with your gossip sessions."

"How long have you been listening?" Potter demands.

"Merlin," Theo says. "I knew Granger was the brains of your little operation, but I didn't know she was the only one of you who had a brain."

Weasley grunts indignantly and half-rises out of bed.

"Let's just go, Ron," Potter mutters. "We should write to — someone. Your dad, maybe."

"Yeah, fine." Weasley turns back to Theo. "You watch yourself."

"No can do!" Theo says cheerfully. "I'll be too busy watching you lot." He smirks and shuts his curtains again.

He hears the two of them getting dressed, amid much grumbling and swearing, and eventually he hears the door open and shut as they leave.

Theo lets out a breath once they're gone and sinks back into his soft pillows. There's no way he'll be able to deal with this all year.

He heaves a few more breaths and pushes his fist against his forehead.

Why why why why why why why why why?

He keeps his curtains closed and manages to doze, in fits and starts, until he can't avoid getting up a second longer.

He heard the other boys get up and move around, but it's been quiet for a while, so he assumes everyone's gone down for breakfast and he'll be able to get dressed and pack his bag for the first day of classes in peace.

He nearly manages it too. But just as he's holding one of his new Gryffindor ties in hand, scowling and wondering whether he should just charm it to strangle him and get it over with, Neville comes back into the dorm.

He's got a couple toast crumbs at the corner of his mouth and he's panting, his sandy hair damp from sweat, like he ran all the way here from the Entrance Hall.

"Alright, Neville?" Theo asks, too surprised by his appearance to say anything clever.

"Yeah, I'm great! McGonagall said this thing about my gran at breakfast and —" He cuts himself off, shaking his head. "It doesn't matter. She also asked me to give you this."

He hands Theo a scroll. Theo reads. Neville stands there.

Dear Mr. Nott,

You are excused from your first class this morning, and will instead attend a meeting in the Headmaster's Office, beginning at 8:30am sharp.

The password to enter the office is "Acid Pops."

Signed,

Professor M. McGonagall

P.S. Please find your class schedule attached.

He takes a brief glance at the other parchment and finds, as expected, that he'll be taking Potions, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Astronomy, and Divination.

"What is it?" Neville asks.

"Oh, er, I'm supposed to go to a meeting with Dumbledore this morning."

"Yeah, I thought it'd be something like that," Neville says knowingly. "When is it? Do you have time for breakfast still?"

"Yeah, I guess," Theo says, though he doesn't make a move to leave.

"Are you nervous?" Neville asks.

"Pardon?"

"It's just, if I had to sit at a new table or go to Dumbledore's office, I'd be pretty nervous."

Neville, Theo is learning, is unreasonably fucking earnest at all times.

"Yeah, well, I'm not," Theo lies.

Neville makes this sort of pinched expression that reads almost like disappointment and which Theo finds oddly unbearable to look at.

"I just really don't want to put on this fucking tie," he distracts himself, holding the red and gold monstrosity aloft.

"Yeah," Neville says, reaching out and taking the tie from his hand. "I get that." He unfolds it, sliding the silky fabric through his fingers. Then he holds it up in front of Theo again. "May I?"

Theo nods, not taking his eyes off Neville's hands. He has nice hands. More masculine than the rest of his soft features, but nimble too. Like they belong to someone strong.

Neville steps closer and lightly flips up the back of Theo's shirt collar. Theo freezes, his breath caught in his throat as Neville smoothly slips the tie around his neck, meticulously adjusting the length. He ties a clean Windsor knot and pushes it into place, the pressure of his fingers ghosting over Theo's collarbone, barely there. He folds the collar back down and steps away.

"There," Neville breathes, his face burning bright red. "You're one of us now." He clears his throat and looks at his feet. "I, erm, just thought it might be easier if you didn't have to do that yourself."

"Right, yeah, thanks," Theo says, looking slightly to the left of Neville's face. He sighs. "I guess I can't put this off any longer, can I?"

Theo picks up his bag, and together he and Neville walk down the stairs and through the common room.

"Why did you look like you ran all the way up here before?" Theo asks, to fill the silence.

"Oh, I, uh, just didn't want you to be late." He's blushing again.

There's more silence while Theo processes that.

"Neville?" he says eventually.

"Yeah?"

"You're too fucking nice."

"I know," Neville says simply.

At precisely 8:29am, Theo stands in front of a giant stone gargoyle and says "Acid Pops."

At 8:30am, Theo enters the Headmaster's office for the very first time. Despite being perfectly punctual, he is the last to arrive. Granger is already sitting in a chair opposite the Headmaster's desk, wringing her hands with apprehension. Dumbledore is sitting at his desk, looking quite relaxed, and Snape stands behind him, lurking, as ever, like an over-large bat.

"Ah, Mr. Nott. Right on time," Dumbledore welcomes him with a soft smile, and gestures to the chair next to Granger with his good hand. "Please sit down."

Theo sits down. He looks at the shelves and cabinets behind the Headmaster, full of glowing, spinning, and gently whirring objects. There's also a phoenix on a perch to the other side of Snape, portraits of sleeping ex-headmasters lining the walls, and a great deal of gold. The overall effect is rather impressive.

"Your Head of House sends her apologies," Dumbledore continues. It takes Theo a moment to remember that Snape isn't his Head of House anymore. "But, alas, the first year students require their Transfiguration professor this morning."

Theo nods, still taking stock of the room he's in. A shelf with a trio of purple potion bottles, another shelf with a glowing white orb hovering above it, a ruby-encrusted sword in a glass case, and, of course, that bloody hat. Theo gets the distinct impression that it's sneering at him. He sneers back.

"I trust you had a pleasant first night in Gryffindor tower, Mr. Nott?"

Your two favourite students threatened me. I couldn't find my room. The light through the bed curtains reminded me of hell. I just had a quasi-sexual experience with Neville Longbottom and a tie. "It was fine, yeah."

"Excellent. And you, Ms. Granger? How did you fare in the dungeons?"

She looks like she wants to be sick. "Everything was fine, sir."

"Marvellous." Dumbledore's tone remains pleasant, although Theo does get the sense he doesn't actually believe the lies he and Granger tell him. "In that case, there are simply a few small administrative matters to attend to."

He speaks to Granger about her status as a prefect for several minutes. Then, some stuff about library access and extracurricular activities and uniforms and it really, truly, honestly seems like this is real. Last night wasn't just a bad night. This morning wasn't just a weird dream.

Theo's a fucking Gryffindor.

"Do you have any questions?" The Headmaster looks expectantly between Theo and Granger.

"Yes, sir," Granger speaks up. "I was wondering if you knew…why?"

"Yes, I suppose that question would be on your minds." Dumbledore chuckles and Theo can't stop himself from glaring at him. He's chuckling about the ruin of Theo's life. "But I'm afraid I do not know the answer for certain. I have my suspicions, but the present is not the time for guesswork and speculation. Not with your first day of classes barreling down upon us so insistently."

Granger, who had sat up straight in her chair when Dumbledore began speaking, visibly deflates. "Perhaps another time, sir?"

"Perhaps," he says briskly. "Now, unless there are any more questions—"

"If I may," Snape steps forward, speaking for the first time since the beginning of the meeting, "make a suggestion?"

"Of course, Severus." Dumbledore waves his hand, giving him the floor.

"It may be prudent," he begins, lip curling up in disdain, "to discuss… limitations on access to their former common rooms? Though in general students are permitted to access the common rooms of other houses if they are accompanied by a friend, it strikes me that without restriction, these privileges could easily become… overused."

Dumbledore looks pensively at Snape. "What risks do you imagine, Severus?"

"I am simply concerned that it would be too easy for Ms. Granger and Mr. Nott to fall back into… old habits, shall we say, and thus run the risk of failing to socialize with their new housemates, becoming members of their new houses in name only. One's house, as you yourself have often said, Headmaster, ought to be like one's family."

Theo peers over at Granger and finds her pressing her lips tightly together, as though attempting to physically restrain herself from speaking.

"An interesting observation." Dumbledore speaks slowly, directly to Snape, his blue eyes sparkling in that specific way that makes Theo want to flip the desk over. "I do agree that it is in the best interests of all students to form close friendships within their houses... As Head of Slytherin House, I will leave it to your jurisdiction over common room access. And, I suppose, Ms. Granger's behaviour as a member of your house."

Granger makes an odd coughing-squeak noise, her lips still together.

"Something to say, Ms. Granger?" Snape asks coolly.

She takes a deep breath in, collecting herself. "It's just, sir, if other students can spend as much time with their friends as they want, it hardly seems fair to change the rules —"

"I am aware that you have always regarded yourself as above the rules, Ms. Granger," Snape says sharply. "And as such, it hardly seems fair for you to object when the rules are adjusted legitimately due to exceptional circumstances. Now, if you'll excuse me, Headmaster, I must prepare for my second period class."

And with barely a passing nod at Dumbledore, Snape sweeps from the room, his black cloak billowing obnoxiously and the door slamming behind him.

Dumbledore frowns after Snape for just a moment before schooling his face back into a polite look of relaxation.

"And with that, I shall send you out unto the breach. Knowledge awaits!"

He waves a hand and the office door opens again. Granger stands, and Theo follows.

"Do try to enjoy your year," Dumbledore suggests when they're nearly out of the room.

Theo considers saying a polite "Thank you, Sir" but instead, he shuts the door roughly and tears past Granger and down the stairs from the office as fast as he can.

"Theo, wait!"

His footsteps echo away down the stone hallway and for a second, Hermione doesn't think he's going to stop.

He does though, turning around with a sigh and smoothing a hand over his hair. "What is it, Granger?"

She hurries to catch up with him. In his Gryffindor tie, she's struck by how much he looks like a glasses-less Harry with neater hair. He has green eyes and everything.

"Are you alright?" she asks him.

"Not particularly."

"Were Harry and Ron —"

"Utter pricks? Yeah, they were."

She grimaces. "Right. Well —"

Theo interrupts her again. "Do you have a point, Granger? It's just, I'd rather not be late. You know, first day and all."

"I don't know, I just want to talk about it!" she exclaims. "How could that meeting not make you angry?"

"Who says I'm not? I'm fucking furious, but I don't know what talking about it has to do with anything," Theo says, in the same matter-of-fact tone he's been using this whole time.

"Well, what are we going to do then?" She crosses her arms in front of her as she speaks. "If you're so opposed to talking."

"There's no 'we' here." He uses air-quotes and that, for some reason, is the thing that makes Hermione's eyes well up with tears. "I'm going to class. See you, Granger."

He starts to walk off.

"Where are you going?"

"Defence Against the Dark Arts," he calls back without turning his head.

"Well, that's what I have now too," she says, her voice breaking as she stomps after him, arms still crossed.

Theo emits a long-suffering sigh when she falls into step beside him, sniffing desperately as she tries to hold back her tears.

He waves his wand, conjures up a handkerchief, and passes it to her wordlessly.

"Thanks," she sniffs. "It's just — the first day, you know? I'm supposed to be — colour-coding my timetable and highlighting course outlines and — it's so stupid but it's my favourite day —" She draws in a shaky breath. "This is not how this year was supposed to go."

She's managed to mostly collect herself by the time they get outside the Defence classroom. They're a bit early. Theo leans against the wall and she paces back and forth in front of him.

"I'm going to go to the library at lunch," she declares. She immediately feels a bit better for voicing her plan.

"Don't you always?" Theo taunts.

"Do you want to come help?" she asks, ignoring him. (Often is not the same as always.)

"No."

"I could use an extra set of eyes, there's bound to be loads of books about the Sorting Hat, and I'll want to go through all of them, so —"

"Not my problem," he says, cutting her off.

"What? It is exactly your problem!"

"No, my problem is that I want to spend lunch with my girlfriend, since apparently I won't be seeing her in the common room this evening," Theo snaps. "I'm sure Potter and Weasley can read your books with you."

"Fine."

"Fine."

Hermione opts out of eating at lunchtime, and instead goes straight to the library. She's vaguely guilty about not making an appearance in the Great Hall; she knows Harry and Ron — and Ginny and Luna and Neville — will be worried about her. But she's just seen them in class and she doesn't have much of an appetite anyway.

Other than a lonely-looking third-year Ravenclaw and Madam Pince, Hermione's the only one in the library.

The familiar quiet of the shelves and the rich smell of aging books is comforting. And as she sits down at a large round table, her pile of prospective books spread out around her, it's like she can breathe properly for the first time since she got off the train yesterday.

She ties her hair back and away from her face, and digs into the first text she's selected, The Masters of Our Fates: Britain's Most Influential Magical Objects. There's an entire section on the Sorting Hat.

Rumoured to have initially belonged to Godric Gryffindor, the Sorting Hat was enchanted jointly by the four founders of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry sometime in the 10th century. Imbued with its own form of consciousness, the Hat performs a type of legilimency, looking inside the mind of each first year Hogwarts student as it determines to which of the four houses (Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin) the student ought to belong.

Hermione skims the rest of the introduction, until she gets to the part about how the Hat actually works.

It is not entirely clear how the Hat makes its determinations. Most scholars believe that it is a straightforward calculation of character traits, while a minority theorize that the Hat uses a type of Divination of Desires, similar to the magic used in potions like Felix Felicis and Amortentia or in products like Self-Ordering Menus and Daydream Charms. This explanation is supported by reports that some individuals have successfully asked to be placed in a particular house, suggesting that the Hat does take the wearer's desires into account. Conversely, others have reported failed requests, which supports the character traits explanation. However, proponents of the Divination of Desires explanation would say that outwardly stated desires do not always match the inner-most desires of the mind or heart.

Hermione jots down Divination of Desires as a branch of magic to investigate further, loathe as she is to read anything about divination. She doesn't consider it urgent, as Hermione is inclined to agree with the majority of scholars on this point — it's quite unlikely that the Hat does anything more than catalogue and calculate one's personality traits, on a typical basis.

What Hermione really wants to know is if there is any precedent for the Hat behaving atypically. She skims through several pages of accounts of famous Hatstalls and noteworthy songs, but before she finds anything else useful, she's interrupted by someone browsing loudly through the shelf directly behind her.

She turns to ask them to be quiet when a cold shiver runs through her spine.

"Malfoy!" she whisper-yells. "Care to keep it down? What are you even doing here?"

"Who, me? I'm using the library, Granger. You see, I'm this thing called a student," he begins, his slow drawl loud in the otherwise silent room.

"It's the first day," she says flatly.

"Shall I state the obvious?" he asks, gesturing to her and her piles of books.

"This isn't school work."

"Well, don't let me interrupt your fun, then" Malfoy says with a smirk and turns back to the shelf.

She watches him move along the row of books, peering intently at their spines, tracing his fingers over their titles, and even mouthing some of the words aloud. He's more focused and serious than she's ever seen him.

"Wait, you're really looking for a book?" she blurts out.

He sighs. "You're not the only person in this school who reads, you know," he says without looking up.

"But — you're looking at reference texts!" She squints at the shelf. "On magical transportation?"

"So it would seem." He turns around and leans casually against the shelf, watching her with that same intensity.

"But why?"

"Why do you care?" he counters.

"I don't," she declares and tries to settle back into her own reading. She's lost her place.

And she can't exactly focus with Malfoy hovering. She swivels back around in her chair to face him again. He hasn't moved.

"Now you're just watching me!" she accuses.

He shrugs nonchalantly.

"Go away, Malfoy!" she hisses, then shakes her head, muttering. "I knew you weren't really looking for a book."

He launches himself off the wall and strides past her, then abruptly doubles back and leans over her table, pressing his palms to the surface.

"And what if I already found what I was looking for?" he says in that same low, threatening tone he used the night before, a twisted little smile toying at the corners of his mouth.

And she can't help the little flutter that comes to life low in her stomach and the way her heartbeat quickens as she meets his eye. She stills, frozen in place, unable to do anything but await his next move.

"Hermione, there you are!" Ron yells, much too loud for the library, as he and Harry burst through the doors and come charging over to her table.

Malfoy keeps staring at her, his mouth pulled into that mocking little smile, until the boys are right behind him. Only then does he step away.

He purposefully walks into Harry's path, so their shoulders bump, and Hermione cringes, prepared for a confrontation.

"Watch where you're going, Potter," Malfoy sneers. "We don't want anyone to get hurt, now do we?"

"Was that a threat, ferret?" Ron spits out grabbing for his wand, face reddening.

"Tsk-tsk, Weasel, that sort of thing will get you thrown out of the library," Malfoy intones slowly. "Have a nice lunch break, you three."

And he walks out, gracefully deflecting the stinging hex Ron aims at his ankles as he goes.

"How are you?" Harry sits down, looking at her with concern. "We've hardly seen you."

"Yeah, bloody Snape," Ron interjects, joining them at the table as he stows his wand back in his robes.

In class earlier, Snape didn't allow her to sit with Ron, instead making her and Theo switch spots the moment class began, so that Hermione ended up sitting next to Daphne Greengrass. What the purpose of Snape's crusade against her speaking to her friends ever again could be, she hasn't the foggiest.

"I'm okay," she says bracingly, and proceeds to fill them in on the events of the past eighteen hours, especially her meeting with Dumbledore that morning. She leaves out her conversation with Pansy last night, and her weird interactions with Malfoy.

The two of them complain about Theo being in their dorm now, and how they don't know what they'll do without her around. It's quite sweet, really.

"But why did you skip lunch?" Harry asks at one point.

"Oh!" she says. "I wasn't that hungry, plus I wanted to do some research on the Sorting Hat. I haven't found much of use yet, but Malfoy interrupted before I even got through the first book."

Ron makes an indistinct grunting noise. Harry asks, "What was he doing here?"

"I don't know, really," she says honestly. "He said he was looking for a book, but he didn't take one. He might have just wanted to annoy me, he was watching me for a bit."

"I don't like that, Hermione," Harry says, and fills her in on what he overheard on the train yesterday, and his Malfoy-is-a-Death-Eater theory.

"We were thinking that Nott might be one too," Ron adds. "We were trying to figure out if what happened to you could have been You-Know-Who's doing."

"Maybe…" she says. "What Harry heard about Malfoy does sound suspicious. But, I don't know, Theo's not bad, and he seems just as surprised and frustrated by this whole thing as I am."

"I really don't like you being in the Slytherin dorms, Hermione," Ron says, his face pained. "If Malfoy's really that dangerous…"

"He might not be," she says quickly, rushing to his defence despite every reasonable part of her mind objecting. "We don't really know anything yet, that's why I was trying to do research… We need to know if someone could have influenced the Sorting Hat."

"Snape!" Harry says abruptly. "What if it was him? He seems so intent on keeping you away from us."

"But why though?"

"It could be on Voldemort's orders!" Harry presses, his eyes getting that wide, manic look they get every time he latches onto a new theory. "He wants to use Nott as a spy, put you in danger, and keep you from being able to protect me too much. He must know I'm safer with you around, and I don't know, he just wants us to be miserable, or to lose hope, or something."

"Yeah, Harry, that'll be it! We should go to Dumbledore!" Ron jumps in, excited.

Hermione chews her lip. "Dumbledore knows all this already, Ron. And it's a fine theory, Harry, but we don't have any evidence yet. And anyway, I'll be okay. We've just got to wait it out for a little bit, right?"

She places a hand on top of each of theirs on the table and squeezes.

"Okay," Harry nods. "Just be careful, Hermione. Please."

She meets his eye for a second and feels a rush of affection for him. She hasn't really allowed herself the space until now to really feel how much she'll miss these two, but she will. Almost more than she can bear.

"Oh, I forgot!" Ron says and starts digging through his bag. "We brought you a pasty."

He looks around for Madam Pince, then quickly slides it across the table.

"Thanks, Ron," she says, laughing for the first time since yesterday. She checks the time. "Oh, good! We've still got ten minutes. I might be able to finish this book."

A/N: Thanks so much for reading and to those who reviewed the first two chapters - I LOVE hearing what you all think!

See you back here next week! Beta love to sunshineceline.