A/N: Tbh I might end this at 25 chapters. My initial plan was to draw this out, but I'm leaning towards a quicker conclusion (instead of making you all suffer).
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 23: The Boy
Theodore began to gather her books and quills from the floor as she stared at him. There wasn't anything he could do for the bottle of ink – leave that to Argus Filch and his wretched cat. His heart pounded in his chest. He started talking and couldn't stop.
"I'm alright, I just wasn't expecting you to fly around the corner like that. Do you still want to stop by the library? You said you forgot your notes. I haven't even started on Flitwick's essay yet, I'm still not sure what to write about." He grabbed the last book and read the title. "Whitby's Guide to Whimsical Charms, I've read this one. The applications of the Shrinking charm Whitby introduces seems near impossible, I've always been more partial to Riley Lacroix and her thoughts on the matter. What do you think?"
When she didn't answer, he turned to her and swallowed. "Hermione?"
"You love me?"
And here he thought distracting her would work. Foolish, Theodore, absolutely foolish.
She grabbed his arm and dragged him down the hall.
"Hermione, your notes-"
"Don't try to change the subject, Theodore Nott, I can get them in the morning."
She used his full name. That's not good. He flushed and mentally beat down the part of him that wanted to laugh at the audacity of the situation. The other part of him was telling him to leg it back to the Slytherin common room and avoid her for the rest of the year.
She pulled him into an empty classroom and locked the door behind them. She turned and put her hands on her hips.
"Explain."
"Um…"
"Put the books down, Theodore."
He hastily put the stack onto a nearby desk and stood straight. His hands twitched – he wanted to shove them in his pockets or play with the hem of his shirt or do something to hide how awkward he was feeling why did he have to confess then? That was the most unromantic way he could have done this, never mind the fact that she was already dating someone. He refused to look at her, to see the judgement in her eyes. The tapping of her foot at the edge of his peripheral vision was more than enough.
She sighed. He watched her feet come closer until she was standing in front of him. She guided him to sit in one of the chairs then sat next to him and took his hands in her own.
"Please."
The words poured out and he couldn't stop them.
"Once upon a time, there was a boy," he began. "He lived in a large manor with his father and mother. His father was a terrible man – a perfectionist who loathed to give up control. But his mother… the boy loved his mother more than anything in the world. She was beautiful and fair, kind hearted and shrewd. She told him wonderful stories, carrying him to other worlds with her words, worlds that the boy lost himself in to escape from his own.
"His favourite ones though were about a magical school. A school where ghosts roamed the halls, where the paintings could talk, where the library was vast and full of books. His mother promised one day, the boy would attend this school. In exchange, he promised he would tell her all about his adventures."
"What happened to her?" Hermione asked quietly.
"… She died." His voice cracked. "The boy's father pushed her down the stairs; she broke her neck. There were no beatings that week."
She squeezed his hands. He felt her nails dig into his skin.
"He's dead," he quickly said, "Got blasted off the Astronomy Tower last year."
"Good riddance," she spat. Her grip relaxed.
He chuckled softly, though it came out as more of a sob.
"… The school was as wonderful as his mother told him," he eventually continued, "And in his third year, he met a girl." Theodore's vacant gaze snapped to the face of the girl in question. "He saw her in the halls, but never spoke to her. His father always said that people like her were worthless, beneath his status, unworthy of the gift of magic. And for a long time, he believed that."
He paused. Why did he have to believe that? Was it because of Draco and the rest? His father's own influence? He doubts that he will ever know. As he struggled to find his next words, she remained silent, her thumbs rubbing circles into the backs of his hands the only indication that she was still listening.
"… That all changed when in one of their shared classes, the two were assigned to work together. The boy was stunned. She was brilliant and beautiful and worth more than he ever was or ever could be." She flushed, cheeks growing redder with each word he uttered. "She survived war and tragedy, death, destruction, and loneliness. And he admires her, loves her for it."
Theodore took a deep breath and locked eyes with her.
"But she doesn't love him back," he whispered. "He's certain that she can't love him back. Not when there's someone who knows her better, someone who's been with her through thick and thin, someone who captured her heart a long time ago." He tries not to sound bitter. He really tries. "… But that's okay. The boy… I've accepted it. All that matters to me is your happiness. Hermione, you once told me that you thought you were using me. In truth, I thought… I think that I'm taking advantage of you and your kindness. Because I do not deserve you. Because you deserve better than the son of a fucking Death Eater."
He lightly kissed her hands, pale and shaking, and knew that he caught her off guard.
"Despite that, despite everything, know that I'm still here. I'll always be here. If you ever need me, don't hesitate to ask."
Theodore stood and fled, ignoring her as she called out to him. He shared too much, (literally threw his heart into her lap, what kind of Slytherin was he?) he needed to leave.
The quaffle was in her court now.