A/N: I'm super sorry for the late update guys! When I was clearing out the clutter on my laptop, I accidently deleted the folder that had all of my Harry Potter stories. Luckily, I managed to restore it, but I still ended up losing all of the progress I made on this chapter, so I had to start from scratch. :( Also, I've just been super busy with midterms to work on anything. BUT I PROMISE, I WILL FINISH THIS STORY, GOD DAMNIT.
With that in mind, I'm not sure when I'll have time to work on and then post the next chapter, so just bear with me please. Finally, welcome to any new people who decided to follow this piece of trash – thanks so much!
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
Title: The Past Does Not Define Us
Rating: T
Pairing: Theodore Nott/Hermione Granger
Summary: "I'm sorry." Those two words shot like an arrow through his soul and Theodore found that there was nothing he could do to stop himself from falling.
Warning(s): Mentions of child abuse and suicidal thoughts.
Chapter 17: The Misunderstanding
It's an early Saturday morning in the Great Hall. Light shone through the giant window behind the teacher's table, illuminating silverware, glasses of pumpkin juice, and clean plates. A large majority of the student population was nowhere to be seen, choosing instead to spend the time sleeping in.
Across the hall however, Hermione sat at the Gryffindor table with Weasley's younger sister. The girl Weasley hunched over her breakfast, dressed in her Quidditch robes – Theodore presumed that she had practice later that day – while a gigantic open book laid in front of Hermione. The brunet frantically flipped through its pages, her hair frizzing. Occasionally, she would turn to the notes on her other side and hurriedly mark something down. Theodore's lip twitched and returned his attention to buttering his toast.
Exams were still two months away and she was already stressing. How endearing.
As Theodore placed the butter knife back onto the table, he glanced back over to where Hermione was sitting. He wondered what subject she was reviewing – Transfiguration? Charms? Maybe History of Magic – now that he thought about it, he should probably start reviewing for that too. Maybe Hermione would be willing to help him?
With that thought, the sound of fluttering wings began to echo throughout the Great Hall – the early risers all looked up to the windows as the first wave of owls flew into the room, letters and copies of the Daily Prophet in their talons.
A proud, black horned owl swooped down to land on the table beside Theodore. With a dismissive gaze, it stuck its leg out to hand him a beige envelope sealed with wax. He smiled, picking up a piece of bacon and handing it to the stuffy bird, then took the letter from its grasp. It sat beside him, nibbling on its treat while he examined the envelope before putting it down on the table.
An indignant squawk pierced through the peaceful silence, causing everyone in the hall to look over to the Gryffindor table.
A tiny owl carrying a heavy envelope in its talons crashed in front of Hermione and the girl Weasley, barrelling over two empty glasses and landing in a plate of scrambled eggs. Theodore saw Hermione leap to her feet, carefully helping the creature out from the mess, while Weasley began to clean its feathers with her napkin. It let out a pathetic croon, shifting in their grasp to prod at the crumpled envelope that it delivered.
He watched as Hermione picked it up, watched as her eyes widened in delight, watched as Weasley smiled mischievously and nudged at the bushy haired girl with her elbow when she sat back down. He watched as she blushed in response, stuffing the letter into her bag, before returning to her previous activity. Then she noticed him staring, raised a hand, and gave him an awkward wave. Theodore forced himself to wave back, forced himself to give her a smirk and a quirked eyebrow, forced himself to ignore the way his fist tightened on the table in front of him, knuckles turning white.
A sharp pain erupted from his hand (he could feel the sharp end of the butter knife digging into his palm) but he ignored it in favor of turning his attention away from Hermione to the beige envelope that he received.
Daphne would know what he should do.
She was better with feelings than he was.
(She was better than him at a lot of things; she was his better half)
He stood from the table, grabbing the letter and stuffing his bloodied hand into his jacket pocket. Daphne's owl, Ophelia, gave a disgruntled hoot, staring up at him with distaste. With a wince, Theodore offered the bird his arm, which it climbed up to rest on his left shoulder.
With that he left the Great Hall, pain in his hand, pain in his heart, and the feeling of Hermione's confused gaze following him as he walked away.