Life was turning upwards for Hermione. Harry had sat with her at breakfast the week before, and after a long-drawn hour of opening and closing his mouth every few minutes, she breached the awkward silence first with a withering glare. Anyone could ask her dormmates of what life with her was like, and the first thing they would be told was Hermione Granger did not enjoy the morning time.
After her coma-inducing glare, the words that followed were less of an apology from Harry, and more of an acknowledgement of his understanding of her actions. It was less than ideal, but it was enough for Hermione and Harry, had Harry sat and started talking about Malfoy without referencing their fight, that would have been more than she would have asked for.
it wasn't enough for Ron, he persisted with ignoring her despite the dressing down from his older brother. The ever-growing enigma of Fred Weasley. What could Hermione say of Fred Weasley? Well, she would tell say she was deeply perplexed by the boy. She searched low and high for the motive behind his words and never found one.
Of every Gryffindor in her house, Fred was the last person she expected to guard her vulnerable back, going as far to stand against his kin in the process. It was confusing, to say the least, and she absolutely, unequivocally, well and truly hated being confused.
As she shared her first laughs with Harry in months, she caught Fred's sleepy brown eyes across the long table over the floating breakfast platters. His red-hair was electric from the static of his pillow, and his clothes hung about him haphazardly. For some inexplicable reason, she never looked away and neither did Fred. There was no malice either's gaze, they played like two strange dogs crossing paths, snuffing out the other and assessing the newcomer.
Fred Weasley tipped his over-flowing goblet to her, which caused the pumpkin juice to treacle down the edges and onto his second-hand clothing. She caught the smile with the back of her hand before Fred raised his head from his soaked trousers.
Hermione had become increasingly hesitant in her life, questioning every move she made and the sounds around her. The crossroads were a regular haunt as of late, never possessing a road map or handed directions to guide her through the diverging paths. Some roads were less cautioned, but the vibrant red road was misted and obscured, absent of any indicators for the horizon ahead.
She wondered if his actions were the initial phases of a truce, a progression she would encourage wholeheartedly, if so. Still, she was not foolish enough to fathom what Fred Weasley had planned, ever attempting to think like Fred Weasley caused her elbows to itch and her brain cells to dwindle rapidly. Hermione came to a decision, she'd do something unheard of for her; nothing at all.
She'd let the days pass her by, and pray for a return to the old ways of light hellos and passing goodbyes. A time before cursed bludgers, fake love affirmations and weepy first years. That would be the best end to the strange conflict between them.
After a moment of frantic wiping, he raised his cup one more time to her without a droplet slipping out, and a tired grin. Hermione indulged him and tipped her coffee to Fred subtly, escaping Harry's notice, before both parties broke their gaze.
She kept her smile as she laughed at Harry imitating Draco and his cast arm. The day felt resolved and she had to breach beyond the Great Hall yet. Days like this were ones Hermione could get used to.
Nothing good in life lasted. Once Harry had started talking about his Patronus lessons, the not-so-friendly weight clung to her caving back. She knew she'd have to tell him of her Sirius research, and there was nothing she wanted to do less. Yes, they were talking again but would they remain so once she told him what she was doing with her time while they weren't speaking? How uneasy was his newfound understanding? She practically ran from Harry, separating from her classmates and heading straight to the unoccupied library with a half-reasoned excuse to her returned friend.
If she was going to tell him everything, she'd at least half a full story to give him. She picked up a small stack of book ranging from British Heritage of the Most Ancient Wizarding Families to The Wizengamot and Wizarding Procedures, hopefully, she could wrangle a decipherable tale from the pile of books trying to escape her filled arms.
She walked to the spot she'd internally claimed as her own and began transfiguring the front of the books as she'd seen Professor Lupin do with his own. She'd become more cautious with her reading after Luna's secret observing of her in the library months prior.
The library had only two other people present, to Hermione they all appeared as potted plants once she started reading. Unless they were disruptive, then she'd wish Madam Pinch into existence, to admonish the rule-breakers ruining her Sunday.
"Snotty, c'mon, just eat the sweet. I've things to do today, you know. Can't stay here all day, wiping your big honker," she peered from the edge of her book to watch Lee Jordan guiding a pale-yellow oval sweet with his wand into forcefully closed lips of Theodore Nott.
Theodore Nott was a gangly boy with thin blonde hair and bright blue eyes. His skin was abused from the lack of sunshine, giving the teenager a sickly sheen to his cheeks. His face was very unassuming, but his nose was a fraction too long which elongated his face in an unattractive manner.
Lee Jordan was standing above the teenager as he tried to work in the library, four tables away from her. Lee's eyes rolled as the invasive sweet failed to pass his pressed lips. Nott's eyes screwed shut as the pale-yellow sweet doubled down its efforts.
"You're just being difficult now, Snotty. You don't even know what it does! It could clear your pimples for all we know," he laughed at the Nott as his lips lifted to attack but closed abruptly as the sweet mashed against his front teeth.
Hermione squirmed in her seat and tried to look away from the pair. She shouldn't help him, he was always one of the first to laugh along when Malfoy teased her during class. She shouldn't even feel bad, should she? In some cases, the best medicine is a high dose of humility to choke the system.
She retraced the first line of text for the hundredth time with the tip of her tremored finger, staunchly determined to stay out it. She would do nothing, wasn't that the plan? She was only just recovering from the nightmare of Fred Weasley, there was no bloody way she was getting involved.
"Remember what happened last time?" She jerked up to see Nott stiffen in his chair, and pale further – she didn't think it possible with his ghostly appearance.
Where was the hawk-eyed Madam Pinch? She glanced around for her – for anyone – to intervene in her place. Lee hadn't raised his voice or broken any rule to garner attention, keeping the older witch away from the nefarious encounter playing out three tables away.
Lee bent down slowly to whisper in the flinching Slytherin's ear while holding his wand aloft and trained on the invasive sweet floating mid-air. Nott's bright blue eyes widened with each whispered word from Lee Jordan into his ear, the conversation was too quick to cast an amplification spell and left Hemione's mind in a mild panic. She may not have heard the words, but the expression on Nott's face indicated they were not the sweet kind of whispers.
"Are you quite done?" She glared at Lee, as he turned to address her lazily with a mischievous grin while twirling his wand in his right hand. He was either uncaring of Hermione or didn't recognise the signs of an angry witch; flared nostrils, fiery eyes and a sinisterly low tenor.
"Depends. Are you ready to take your medicine, Snot?" He returned his grin to Nott's face, mere centimetres away from him. Nott scowled in defiance, but his shaky lip betrayed him.
"Well, I think you are," she threatened lowly, diverting Lee's insidious intentions from Nott. Lee stood to his full height to face the quiet-spoken threat before him, which wasn't much taller than Hermione herself. Height was never an intimidating factor for Hermione, especially not when everyone towered above the compact witch, including most of the younger years. Besides, the bite of a Jack Russel could be just as dangerous as any given by larger hounds.
Lee walked away from Nott, the sweet dropped in the lap of the sagging boy, as Lee closed the short distance between the tables. Hermione didn't move from her position, fingers digging into the red velvet of her opened book.
"That right, Granger?" Lee squared his hips to his feet. If her eyes could cast fires, she was positive Lee would be a smoking ash pile by now.
She could see Nott comporting himself in her peripheral vision, as he began to glower at Hermione from afar with barely concealed hatred. He was disgusted by her, which wasn't unusual, though it was weakening her resolve to help him.
"See, I don't think I am, Granger. Is that a problem for you?" Lee's dark eyes reinforced whatever Nott had broke, Hermione wouldn't give in when she'd plunged so far. She plotted behind the unending staring contest between them.
She was doubtful Lee would take his scolding as well as Fred ever had, evident by the challenge in his whiskey eyes. It was a vastly different experience than any she'd ever had with his red-headed friend. There were strong threats from both parties, and Lee wasn't backing down from the younger girl. She knew when she interrupted, there was every chance she'd make an enemy, yet it was an easier war to take on than any she'd have with her conscience for keeping mum.
This wouldn't be like before, either. Honestly, if she wasn't so enraged last time, she would have been smarter and less brazen in her tactics with Fred. Luckily, Nott was a prejudiced radicalist and not an innocuous, shaggy-maned muggleborn, which tethered her to rational thought.
Hermione knew exactly what would clear Lee Jordan and almost any student from the library, for that matter. She knew what she had to do, even if her mind disapproved of her sacrilege. She closed for eyes for a moment and lavished in her steady breathing, as her fingers clamped around her research forcibly.
Lee's brow furrowed as she raised the book above her head. Even Nott's scornful eyes studied the mad witch before him curiously. She flung the book across the room with exuberance in the direction of the nearest bookshelves, the bang reverberated through the muted area echoing in every ear nearby. Lee Jordan eyes widened as the book collided with the display of ancient book before they narrowed at Hermione, the ramifications of her actions settling in.
"Clever witch, aren't you?" He sneered down at her, his dark dreadlocks falling above his eyebrows as he leaned closer to Hermione, sinisterly close. Despite the sickening tingle of his breath on her ear, she never veered from his penetrating eyes. His pupils were tiny black dots hidden amongst the whiskey brown. Hermione folded her hands in her lap and coolly stared back at the invading Gryffindor as Madam Pinch soundlessly grew closer.
"You're lucky you're Fred's witch. Very…bloody...lucky." Lee pulled back with a blowing huff, he turned to leave before the librarian could encounter him, a member of the infamous mischief makers was sure to catch the blame. Nott's eyes followed Lee out the door and stayed there as the doors clapped behind him.
"What in - Who threw this?" Madam Pinch pummelled down the tables from the far-reaching Library towards the fallen book splayed across the stone floor. She held the book up as evidence, giving the pair a clear view of the splitting spine of the ancient book. Hermione openly shuddered at the sight. Hermione looked to Nott, who persisted in his tense pose of pulled shoulders and stoned jaw. She wouldn't put it passed him to carry tales to the stern librarian. She anticipated it.
"I couldn't see," Nott gritted, his pale cheeks flamed red with his lie. Hermione would've stumbled had she been standing. Madam Pinch was unfulfilled and whirled around to face Hermione with the agility of one much younger than she.
"Miss Granger?" She hissed, her yellowy eyes pinned Hermione to her chair, she had every intention of telling her the truth before Nott spoke. She'd accepted her fate the moment the book glided through the air. She hadn't however, accounted for Theodore Nott lying for her with an unknown purpose. Whether it was a repayment or some bizarre quasi-protection, she had no idea.
She did know if she kept to her original plan, Madam Pinch would know he had blatantly lied to her. If she lied now, well then she would be adding to the gathering web of deceit surrounding her lately. Theodore raised his eyebrows as Hermione kept silent.
"No. I didn't see," her voice was barely a whisper, as the lie crept from her hesitant tongue.
Madam Pinch sniffed haughtily to both third years, before stomping away while stroking the wounded book in comfort. Hermione felt the ever-lasting wash of shame shower her, as the witch disappeared behind her desk. She sighed heavily, which alerted the Slytherin boy to her presence once more drawing his eyes to her.
Hermione didn't linger on Nott, immediately picking up the next book on from her stack and feigning ignorance to the intruding blue eyes of Theodore Nott. She kept her unnaturally natural pose in her chair while flicking the pages of her pack at random. Surely he'd go away eventually.
"Go on then, claim your stupid debt," she lifted her eyes to the disdainful boy three tables away from her. She checked around her if he'd been talking to her, but they were the only students here on once Lee scurried off. Nott tapped his finger impetuously on the table in front of him, her confusion must have shown as he rolled his eyes skywards.
"Merlin, you're a muggleborn, I almost forgot…almost," Hermione's teeth clashed against each other, as she ground them as she tried to withhold herself from cursing the ungrateful git. She'd stopped whatever Lee had planned for him, had even done so knowing she may get detention or lose points, and the first thing he dared to do was degrade her. She should've let Lee be. "Begrudging as I am, I owe you a debt which you must claim now."
"Why?" He owed her nothing, and if he did, she wouldn't ever claim it from the likes of Theodore Nott.
"How are you not getting this? Don't you know everything? What was it again?" He tapped his chin in thought before a cruel smile fanned his face. "Oh yes, 'an insufferable little know it all', that was it," he mocked. The cruel words stung worse each time, he'd apparently learned the trick from the head Slytherin bully, Draco's handy tips and tricks to upset Hermione Granger. "Do you know anything of life debts, let alone a simple wizard debt?"
She ignored him and resumed her fake-reading. He'd taken her silence for lack of answer, which was true to an extent. In truth, she didn't want the cruel git to see her misty eyes. Sometimes, the less complex taunts hurt worst of all.
"Well isn't that interesting…the envy of Ravenclaw not knowing something," he drawled as he stood from his chair and took the seat opposite her. She kept her eyes on the blurring text, as her cheeks reddened to his words.
"Nobody can know everything," she defended.
"And yet, you seem to…" he said, leaning back casually in his chair as if they were old friends and he hadn't insulted her at least five times in two minutes. "It's quite straightforward. If you save the life of a wizard, he is forever in your debt unwillingly saved or not. It's a rather delicate bond, that can form without one realising it. They must repay the favour, against their will if needs must," she nods her head along despite herself, greedily absorbing each word given.
"A wizarding debt?" She looked to the gangly boy, forgetting the earlier sting of her honey-eyes. He watching her warily contrasting his relaxed state as his arm hangs from the chair next to him.
"Is one of honour. A wizard can choose to accept debt for any favour done for them," he shrugged casually, but his rounded blue eyes were locked to her.
"And you've chosen to accept it?" She scrunched her nose thoughtfully. That made no sense, whatsoever. Why would he willingly tie himself to a mudblood?
"No Nott man has ever rejected a debt. We always pay our debts, unsavoury or otherwise," he said evenly.
"So, if someone opens a door for you – you owe them, a favour?" she laughed in disbelief.
"Don't be absurd," he snapped, shifting in his seat away from her.
"I'm not being absurd, you are. How do you distinguish between an act of kindness and granting a favour? It's silly," she laughed again, it was too insane not to. Most Slytherins didn't appear to know the difference between a smile and a smirk, his offended frown included him in the group. She couldn't help but laugh, she couldn't imagine being so stringent in her life. Recording everything anyone did for you, tallying which had earned favour and why. It was an inherently silly way of life, entirely deserving of her laughter.
"No one thing is equal to another," he waved his hand through the air heatedly. "An act of kindness is shared between friends, of which we are not," he raised his eyebrow in challenge, she'd never argued with the truth.
"You can just do something because it's right," she argued instead. She didn't defend him for praise or a wizarding promise, she'd had even anticipated backlash from him. She'd never imagined he'd enforce an antiquated reward on her, she had pureblood friends and they never acted like Nott was.
"Yes, because the muggleborn lion could want to be kind to the snake she so despises," he took his turn to laugh at Hermione, though it was unkind and cruel and drummed in her ears like pots clanging against each other. She dropped her book and draped her arms across her chest.
"I know nothing about you to hate you," though she did not like him, she didn't hate him. Hate was too strong a word, for a person she never thought about. She hates what he stands for, but not him personally. "I don't need your debt."
"You reject my debt?" His eyes widened comically, had Hemione not become mildly irritated by him, she may have laughed.
"Oh brilliant, what horrible faux pas have I done now," in place of laughter, she rolled her eyes. His eyes remained as wide as the distance between Filch's eyes, frantically darting the planes of her small face.
"None. I just don't understand," his voice full of awe, as if it was inconceivable to not forcibly take favours from people who are only just willing.
"Seems like I'm not the only who could do with some learning," Hermione reopened her book, holding her book as normal and ending the brief tete-a-tete. She disregarded his presence and the shuffling noise around her, refusing to be distracted anymore.
"What are you reading?" he asked, the shuffling noise faded around her slowly. She wasn't concerned about him reading her research as it was transfigured to a muggle book of her childhood, though she wanted to tell him to shut up, and just let her read the same paragraph she'd been reading for the last hour. She could do it too, but wouldn't that prove she hated him? It was categorically untrue anyway, she needn't prove herself to him.
"Just some research."
"What research could be about the black family?" She snapped her head so quick; she feared her neck would snap. She flipped her book up to see he'd revealed the cover of the book she'd hidden with the sterling silver carved wand in his hand.
"How did you know?" He smirked at her, setting her nerves on edge. A smile seemed unnatural on his dour face, was this playful or malicious? There was no way to know.
"The font wobbles slightly when you turn your page. You should consider adding a stability charm or using your wand to turn your pages instead," he waves his silver-lined wand and without words, the pages of her forgotten book flip with a whoosh.
"Thank you," she had no reason to think him, they were just words to fill the break in the conversation.
"What of the Blacks?" He eyed the cover with interest, instinctually she angled the book away from him, as if he dissected the cover for a moment longer he'd see right through her. She'd never been a good liar. Luna had seen right through her, she was practically transparent. So, she said nothing to the smirking snake.
"Wouldn't have anything to do with Sirius?" He beamed as her shoulders tensed, Telling Luna was innocent, telling him was not. She may not despise him, but she was no gullible idiot. She would not fall victim to the cunning snake if she had any power.
"Ah, silence – I'm getting warmer, aren't I?" She narrowed her feline eyes in warning, he seemed to delight in her discomfort. "Though, wouldn't that make the most sense? The big betrayal and all," his grin was lecherous as a tiny gasp escaped her without permission.
No book spoke of the nature of his crimes, or his true relationship to the Potters. She had to request archived information, and Harry had to spy on elders to hear the true story. Shes supposes he was born in this world, but Luna didn't know too much about it either and she was raised with magic. It was something only adults knew of, and any decent adults never spoke of it to nimble-minded children. Although, who's to say those around him were decent? Certainly not she.
"How would you know about it?" she whispered. He could be bluffing, a sly deployment to steal her secrets from her.
"You know how," he winked but it wasn't like Fred, at all. It wasn't charming or mischievous. Regardless, she had no want for what he was offering her or why he was doing so. More importantly, she'd never trust him – bogus debts or not.
"It's none of your business, so if you don't mind," she made no move to uncross her arms or pretend to read. The dismissal couldn't have been stronger if she spelt it across her forehead in cursive.
"I have black relatives you know," he offers his final enticement with a serious tone. "Most of us are. The acceptable pool is scant, to say anything of it," his cheeks tinged pink through the muttered words. It was a hard offer to refuse, inside knowledge of the hidden workings of the Blacks. Hermione front teeth sunk painfully into her bottom lip. It was seductive to her, though she knew it was too turbulent to engage with untrustworthy Slytherin. She shook her head vigorously and picked her book, for what felt like the millionth time that morning. "You could accept my debt, ask for secrecy," Theodore wasn't ready to drop it as Hermione was.
"Why are you so intent on me accepting this?" She threw her book down harsher than intended, Nott barely flinched as he slowly adjusted to the turnabout of her moods.
"Like I said; Nott men pay their debts," her ire stoked as he shrugged his shoulders and reached for her abandoned book. She pushed the book away with her finger, his amused eyes chased the book across the wooden surface. He gave her a look as if to ask what he'd done now but he knew why.
"Your debt is to stop bloody asking me about accepting your debt," she said firmly, with a pointed finger. He gave her a look as if to ask what he'd done now but he knew why, before a slow grin burrowed across his gaunt cheeks.
"Was that so hard, Granger?" He smiled playfully as she burned him with her golden eyes. She picked her book up, watching him as if he would break the silence and interrupt her reading again. He held his hands up in mock surrender while smirking in that peculiar way, like the cat who licked the cream.
He pulled a book from his back pocket and kept to his chair in front of her, as she finally turned the damned first page of the book. Both read peacefully with only a desk between the muggleborn lion and pure-blood snake. Neither spoke to one another, and he never asked of her books again, content to observe the rules of Library.
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Hi all,
So, Covid-19 is the biggest mood-killer. You'd think self-quarantine would be great, what else is there to do but write? It's hard to write when all people want to talk about is Coronavirus tallies, which is terrifying and killing my inspiration. In the end, I realised that my little story may be the escape for others, that I can't find for myself. So I forged on. I hope you're all staying safe, whether you're young or old, we're all at risk so be smart and keep safe.
With that, I have this update. I may throw another up during the week on top of my weekend update because this was a little short. I make no promise but who knows, maybe I'll be inspired again.
Harry is talking to Hermione, Ron isn't and Fred is radio silent. Is Fred really stopping? Not even a little bit. More on that later lol. Also, Lee was a real dick in this chapter. Sorry if you're a Lee Jordan Stan, I needed someone to take the fall and it wasn't going to be Fred or George lol. There would be no turning back if that was Fred, charming or not.
I had the idea for an unrequited Theodore Nott/Hermione Granger from the first chapter, so I hope this didn't feel plopped in. When I thought of creating a 'modern' parallel to James/Lily, it didn't seem possible without a version of Snape so I knew I had to pick a Slytherin. I didn't go for Draco for a few reasons but mainly because I wanted to keep him as the villain of the story. Also, there's so many stories on Draco/Hermione and this didn't need to be another one. I like Theodore because he's undeveloped but easily fits into canon, there's a lot you can do with his character unlike Draco unless you're completely shifting your story.
Speaking of shifting the story, I still fucking hate time-travel. It's the absolute worst, and I completely understand why JK regretted introducing time-turners to HP. I have a time-turner replica and I can barely look at it lately without cursing. I just can't seem to fix one tiny plot hole, and it is mind-numbing. I come closer and closer to just writing a summary of the end of PoA without any changes but nobody wants to read the same thing over and over again. I think I may just roll with it and magically fix my plot hole or hope nobody questions it, otherwise this story is dead before it even really takes off.
Anyway I hope you liked the chapter. Leave an review/favourite/follow if you're feeling it, I hope this provided a small escape from the crazy of the real world
Until next time