Disclaimer: Everything you can think of belongs to JKR, but the line 'Who pissed in her soup?' is from 'A Song of Ice and Fire' series by George R. R. Martin.
A/N: First of all, I want to thank everyone for the reviews, to apologize for the long wait (it's been a busy… term), and, of course, to thank Hedgehog/Joanna for wonderful betaing - and especially for making me rewrite the introductory scene!
Second, I need to warn you about the PoV in this chapter. It's messy. It's been messy throughout the fic, but in this chapter it's a bit messier. Basically, this is a first person PoV fic, and the parts about Nott are, supposedly, also told by Weirden, based on a later account by Nott (if you know what I mean). She sounds a bit omniscient, but there you are. Anyway, the first part of this chapter is about Nott, and it's rather clear - at least up to the point when he runs into Weirden, who then refers to self in the first person. Just thought that I'd warn you, so that you don't get overly confused. I'm aware it's a strange solution, but it was the best Joanna and I could think of. The second part of the chapter is a normal first person narrative.
It was the same morning, but somewhat earlier - although 'early' might not be the right word since the morning was threatening to turn into noon. Nott lay in his bed, drifting in and out of sleep. Most of the time he was dimly aware of the voices, although he tried very hard not to listen. The sounds of a boys' dormitory on a Saturday morning aren't the most interesting thing in the world. Someone was whining about a still unfinished Potions essay, someone else was planning the Hogsmeade trip. Everyone was discussing the yesterday's Quidditch match. Nott turned around and put the pillow over his head – not that it helped much.
Next time he woke up, the room was somewhat less noisy. To be precise, there were only two voices to be heard. The amused, louder one was Malfoy's; the deeper, grunting one belonged to Moon. Nott thought it was probably still Quidditch and almost dismissed it, when he heard something that caught his interest.
"Your nose was broken, for one," Malfoy was saying lazily. "I saw it, yesterday night. And the whole room smells of cigarettes, although we all know Nott never smokes in here because his darling Zabini hates it. And now you tell me you are going to Hogsmeade without Nott. Will someone please tell me what's going on?"
Oh Gods, Nott thought. I hope the idiot won't babble. If Malfoy found out about what had happened yesterday, the whole school would know before the day was over. And the situation might become… highly unpleasant.
Moon mumbled something that sounded like 'mind your own business'.
"Troubles in heaven?" It sounded like Malfoy was grinning. "I have to find out about this."
Moon didn't reply.
"Look, I'll let you copy my Transfiguration equation – well, the first part of it – if you tell me."
"No."
Moon's voice was somewhat sullen, but firm. If an ox could speak, he might sound like that. Oh, an ox might not like pulling carts, but if he was already set to do it, then he was bloody well going to do it, Nott thought.
"Oh, all right. I'll give you the whole thing. Just change the order so that McGonagall doesn't notice."
"No."
With his stubbornness and his blind loyalty and the one-sided view on things, Moon might have made a fine Huffie, thought Nott. Not that any Hufflepuff would agree with the statement. The thought was amusing. He'd have chuckled, but for the danger of being heard. Everyone thought him asleep, and he was absolutely content with such a state of affairs.
"So you won't tell me what happened?"
"No."
"We could push him a bit…"
The enthusiastic voice belonged to Crabbe. He tended to get all cheerful when the option of pushing someone into doing something came up. Malfoy ignored him, though.
"Fine," he sniffed indignantly. "Don't tell me anything. I can always ask Nott, you know. Your loss."
Moon actually chuckled.
"Try and wake him," he said, and Nott couldn't help grinning into his pillow. He had spun wards around his bed before he went to sleep last night, and for once, it proved useful.
"Closed himself in again, so that no one would disturb his beauty sleep, did he?" Malfoy snorted. "Never mind. I'll talk to Sleeping Beauty later."
Satisfied, Nott rolled over, re-wrapped in his blanket, and dozed off again. When he woke up the next time – he wasn't sure how much time had passed or what time it was – luckily the room was empty. It had started emptying quite early, actually, he remembered vaguely. He had been half asleep for a time, but he had been aware of Blaise slipping out of his bed while everyone else was still fast asleep. Not that getting up early was unusual for Blaise, but Nott suspected that this time it hadn't been in order to get the best seat in the library (whatever he actually meant by 'the best seat'…) or to go fly a bit while no one could see him. No, it's that mysterious girlfriend of his, Nott thought lazily, aware that he should probably be more interested in the matter. His own problems occupied much more of his attention, though.
When he had woken for the second time, Nott could hear Goyle humming in the bathroom – Goyle had never quite got it straight that humming was supposed to be slightly less loud, for one. The boy was shaving, Nott supposed. At the age of seventeen, Goyle had finally discovered shaving, and now he did it every other morning. He wasn't especially skilled at it, though, so he had to get up half an hour earlier than anyone else… Only, most often they got up right after him anyway – awakened by the flow of expletives when Goyle cut himself.
The third time Nott had awakened, he listened in on that conversation between Malfoy and Moon.
Waking up the fourth time, he sat up in bed, blissfully aware that the dorm was empty – and that all the probability was that the Great Hall wasn't overly crowded either. Yes, he knew he was simply postponing the imminent confrontation with the real world. So what?
The Slytherin table was almost empty when he finally showed up. He had counted exactly on that, of course. What he hadn't counted on was Riley's presence. Riley, who looked quite sick – probably because of all the cigarettes they had smoked last night. Riley had never quite got used to smoking, but insisted on doing so because it was what Nott did. He also insisted that he was the first one of the gang who had started smoking – which was a big lie, and completely unimportant at the moment. What was I thinking about? Oh, all the cigarettes we smoked… yes. Nott suddenly realized that the cardboard taste in his mouth wasn't a consequence of the bitterness of life but of one hell of a lot of cigarettes, the stupid coughing potion, and forgetting to brush his teeth afterwards.
Riley – all pale and rough-haired and with bags under his eyes – was sitting in their usual place, obviously not eating. He looked as if he was waiting for something – and getting quite impatient about it. When he saw Nott, he smirked in a way he probably thought to be exceptionally nasty.
What Nott wanted to do was sit down, eat his bloody breakfast as fast as possible, never looking up from his plate, and – beat it.
Had he done this, everyone would have known he'd lost.
He grinned insolently instead, looking straight at Riley, and cast himself in the chair by the side of the only distinctly female-looking student around.
"Morning, Millicent!"
She turned her head, winced, and put a hand to her forehead. Opening her eyes obviously wasn't an easy job.
"Please don't shout," she managed. And then, "Where's my coffee?"
"Right in front of you. But, frankly, I'd recommend a cup of tea first. With lots of lemon. Or, even better… tomato juice?"
A glass materialized on the table before him – blessed be the house elves – and he passed it to Millicent, still grinning at her, even though grinning wasn't what his face wanted to do at the moment. Growling, on the other hand…
Millicent groaned.
"I hate the stuff." She took a small sip anyway. "Yuck! What day is it anyway?"
"Saturday. Mercifully."
"How can you be so cheerful, Nott?"
"Practice."
"I hate you."
"That's enough. I have to talk to you, Nott." The voice belonged to Riley.
Nott was aware of Riley's gaze across the table. He had been aware of it for some time now, and the gaze had only been becoming more intensive. Less patient. Angrier. Nott hoped to use that to his advantage.
"Thanks, Millicent, mate. Excuse me for a second," he told her, before turning to face Riley.
The other boy was clutching his fork as if he was going to hurl it at Nott or attack his half-eaten bacon at any moment or whatever.
The most important thing in the situation was to keep the upper hand during the whole conversation. Or, even better, preventing any conversation from taking place. Riley would want to blackmail him or something, Nott was sure. He was also sure that the other boy wouldn't try to do it shouting across half the Great Hall. Or – more literally – half the Slytherin table.
"Really," said Nott, doing his best to keep the grin on. "Go on."
"You don't think I'd do it here!"
"Don't shout." That was, of course, Millicent.
"Sorry," Nott said, turning to her, and then grinned in Riley's general direction again. "Why not?"
Riley was silent for a moment, holding his fork as if he was waiting for someone to scream Charge! He was obviously trying to restore his self control. The boy was often very irritable in the mornings, especially if he didn't get enough sleep during the previous night. It paid to know the weaknesses of your enemies and use them against them. Even if the enemies used to be your friends. Especially then.
"Meet me at the usual place," Riley said slowly, rising from his chair, obviously unable to sit peacefully even one moment longer. "In half an hour."
He turned on his heel and started away.
"Wait."
Riley turned.
"Do you mean the abandoned vault near big southern corridor?" said Nott, making sure that everyone heard him. "Or that padded classroom next to the club meeting place?"
That should cover it, he thought. Having made sure that half the Slytherin house now knew about their secret meeting places, Nott knew he had scored again. First of all, he had made Riley angry in front of everyone, thus making him look like a fool. No Slytherin liked making a fool of themselves. The second plus was, he had let Riley - and everyone else - know he wasn't afraid of him, he wasn't going to be cowed easily. Oh, and the gang would be forced to find new meeting places too.
And all that in just a few words.
Nott wondered why, then, it all didn't make him feel any better.
"So," he turned to Millicent, "good party, huh?"
"As far as I remember, yes," she pointed out. It seemed she showed signs of occasional wit when she was pissed off. Pity she looked like an elephant.
Nott continued exchanging occasional pleasantries, sarcastic comments, and glasses of yoghurt and tomato juice with Millicent, not giving more than half the thought to the process. It gave him some space to think.
So, what did Riley want, exactly? Blackmail or threaten him, most probably. But why wait for him at the table, why not leave it for later? Maybe he wanted to make an arrangement… reach an agreement? Hm. Nott was open to different possibilities, of course… Only, not on Riley's terms. If he agreed to come to a meeting place Riley had chosen, at Riley's time… Well, it was obvious who would end up on top.
Nott sighed. Calculating, manipulating, and strategizing was fun, for sure… On the other hand, sometimes he just wanted to be spared, at least early in the morning. Late in the morning. Whenever.
He wished he could duel with Riley, win (or, much less probably, lose), and get the thing over with. The endless plots were, well, endless, and therefore tiring.
Nott looked round, taking in the people sitting at the Slytherin table. First and second years, mostly; the older students were probably already in Hogsmeade. The first and second years that, he was absolutely sure of it, were considerably smaller and thinner than he and his friends at their age. The first years that now looked at them as a human might look up at a god. And they did what humans usually do – looked up at them, cowered, and secretly plotted how to pull them down and place their own gods in their stead.
Did all the paranoid people get sorted into Slytherin, or did Slytherin make one utterly paranoid, Nott wondered.
He also wondered how much they knew, how much they had guessed by looking at Moon's broken nose and listening to his dispute with Riley – and how much their heads were filled with the newest and probably very melodramatic gossip made up by Pansy Parkinson. She probably claimed she had pried it out of Malfoy, who, of course, knew everything that was worth knowing.
Coming to think of it, the Pansy-option was probably most harmless of all.
Her stories tended to be colourful, captivating, and utterly surreal most of the time. Everyone loved listening to her. Her stories were much more likely to spread throughout Hogwarts than the bleak account of events by Jerome Riley or Pete Derek. Perhaps I should encourage one of Pansy's stories.
And Riley… Riley wasn't likely to tell the world what had really happened. Theodore Nott Jr. defending a Hufflepuff Mudblood would have made a good enough scandal, only… Only, Riley would have to explain why he and the rest of the gang didn't take care of it anyway. Four against one. Seemed easy enough. Riley sure wasn't going to admit he was afraid to face Nott in an open duel even with three blokes to support him. From that side, he was partly safe, Nott estimated.
Only, stories had their own way of springing up and getting revealed in the ways you least expected them to do. One should never feel too safe, he thought.
"Damn you, Theo," was the first thing Blaise said when Nott nearly walked right into him in the corridor. Blaise was standing to the right from the library door talking to Luna Lovegood, of all people.
"Oh no," Nott muttered, remembering the yesterday night's conversation with Blaise. "Oh, no." Lovegood was a laughing stock of half the school. Blaise's reputation was shaky enough even without this mess, Nott thought.
"Damn," Blaise repeated, but didn't seem in the least annoyed. As a matter of fact, he looked much more cheerful than anyone had the right to be on a gloomy morning like this, Nott thought. "We've been waiting for you for ages, Theo. What have you been doing?"
"Ignoring Riley, entertaining the whole table, and chatting up Millicent Bullstrode. Don't ask. Hello, Lovegood."
"Good morning, Theodore Nott," she said vaguely.
"By the way, Theo," Blaise began, a bit wary all of a sudden. He had his glasses back on his nose, Nott noticed. Had probably forgotten them at Luna's, or something. "I was wondering…"
"All right," Nott snapped, "What exactly have you heard?"
Blaise was one of those rare people in whose presence Nott could afford to snap.
Blaise looked at Luna, and they shared a knowing smile. Nott was slightly irritated.
"Actually," said Blaise, "we are going to Hogsmeade and were wondering if you'd like to come with us…"
Nott furrowed his eyebrows. Blaise hated going to Hogsmeade, hated it. He usually stayed at Hogwarts and used the time to fly a bit around while no one was looking. Blaise was quite an exceptional flyer, but was terribly shy about it. And now… he was taking Lovegood to Hogsmeade where everyone could see them, see them together. And what's more, he seemed to expect Nott to go with them. Or was it just politeness?
"You don't have to come if you don't want to, you know."
"Oh," Nott stammered, suddenly realising Blaise looked a bit hurt. "It's not that. It's just… I'd forgotten it was this weekend, that's all."
He was suddenly aware of Luna Lovegood's eyes boring right into his own. He smiled at her idly, wondering how firm a grasp of reality the girl had at all.
Lovegood was still staring at him.
"We've heard what happened yesterday," she said conversationally. "You saved Weirden Briggs from serious bullying and harassment."
"Oh, Luna, I don't think it's really tactful to…" Blaise began.
"I think it was very brave," the girl continued, completely unperturbed. She continued staring into Nott's eyes, and he suddenly felt very uncomfortable, as well as slightly flattered, for some reason.
"Well," he muttered, "Thanks." An unwilling blush was starting to develop from his neck upwards, but was suddenly stopped. The girl had just patted his upper arm reassuringly, or whatever she'd call it. Nott winced. Luna didn't seem to notice.
"Very very brave. Blaise would have done the same," she stated firmly, turned on her heel, and walked away.
"What the hell…"
"I think she might have forgotten something in her room," Blaise said calmly.
"That… happens a lot?"
"Yeah, she's quite forgetful," Blaise grinned suddenly. "Just like me."
How did they manage to become so much of an item in just one day, Nott wondered idly. Clueless, united, he thought, but didn't want to roll his eyes at Blaise. Besides, he had more pressing matters to think about.
"All right," he said, "Now you are going to tell me everything, Blaise. Okay?"
Blaise blushed.
"Well… if you are interested, all right."
"Um, yes, Blaise, of course I'm interested."
"Well, we've been sitting next to each other in the library for over a month, now. And, with one thing and another, we started to chat, and…"
Oh, Gods, he's telling me how he got together with Lovegood!
"Blaise."
"Huh?"
"I meant, how in the name of Hell did you find out about the Briggs incident. Not how you met Luna."
"Oh," Blaise looked slightly hurt. Again. Damn me.
"I mean, I'd like to hear about that too, but these are more pressing matters. Life and death and all that. Come on, don't be a jerk."
"All right, all right. But I shouldn't be telling you this, you know."
"I won't tell anyone. Damn it, Blaise, it's definitely not in my interest to tell anyone. I thought you got that."
"Basically, Riley told the Bloody Baron what happened."
"Riley told Baron?" Damn.
"Seems so, yeah."
"And Baron told you?"
"Oh, no. I don't think he'd be telling anybody, honestly. But it seems that the Gray Lady was spying on the Baron at the moment, so she overheard the conversation."
"So, the Gray Lady told you?"
"No, she told Luna. And Luna told me."
Oh. Gods!
"So," Nott did his best to appear calm. "I expect half the school know by now. Ravenclaws aren't exactly famous for their discretion."
"Um, Luna swore to tell no one but me."
"I didn't mean Luna, Blaise."
"Well, the Gray Lady isn't going to tell anyone else, of course."
"Yeah, right. Of course."
Blaise smiled contentedly, completely failing to notice the sarcasm.
"Blaise."
"What?"
"Why are you so sure the Gray Lady won't tell Elen Briggs and the rest of the geek gang, for Gods' sake?"
Blaise was extremely intelligent, that was a fact. Blaise was well-educated. And yet, Blaise's mind was so prone to wandering that it hurt. He stared at Nott blankly for a moment.
"Why, she's going to blackmail the Baron, of course," he shrugged. "You sometimes ask such stupid questions, Theo. You would be really smart, you know, if only you concentrated a bit."
Nott had absolutely no idea what to say to this, but Luna's arrival saved him. Sort of.
"That's Weirden Briggs," she said dreamily, pointing at me. "I think she has an aversion to Terry Boot as well. I said she could come with us."
Suddenly horror-struck, Nott turned around, just to see my back rapidly disappearing down the corridor. I liked the whole matter very little, obviously. More correctly, I was pissed off. Unusually pissed off.
"No, thanks," she yelled, without turning around. "I'll just go find some dynamite to play with."
"Who pissed in her soup?" Nott said and rolled his eyes.
Blaise seemed confused, but then he shrugged and muttered, "Hufflepuffs."
"Luna?"
She turned towards Nott and inclined her head. Her eyes made him uncomfortable.
"Why did you drag Briggs with you?" he asked a tad more roughly than he had intended. "Don't you think it would've been a bit… strange company?"
"Similar interests are a foundation for a lasting friendship," she said in a singsong voice.
Oh, I forgot who I was talking to, Nott rolled his eyes inwardly, but said nothing.
"So, shall we?" said Blaise. "I've promised Luna to show her my broomstick first, though."
"You've promised… Your broomstick?" Nott barked a laugh.
"Well, yeah. What's so funny about it?"
"Oh, I get it!" Luna declared. "Your broomstick, Blaise!" She giggled. "Broomstick! Get it?"
Blaise just looked at her lovingly, as she continued to laugh. For a long time. Nott realised it was going to be a long, long day.
"Know what, guys?" Nott said, interrupting a heated discussion on magical creatures of some kind, as they passed through the entrance hall. "I don't really feel like going to Hogsmeade today. I think I need to be alone for a while and clear my head, or something. Lots of things to think about."
That was a part of the truth, for sure. The other part was – it's not particularly funny to be the 'third' person. Odd one out and all that. Luna wanted to be with Blaise. Blaise, for whatever reason, wanted to be with Luna. Nott was quite positive that neither of them particularly desired to spend time with him. Only, they were too, well, nice or polite or unassertive to say so, he supposed.
He wasn't going to be anyone's burden, for sure.
Besides, being seen with Blaise Zabini and Luna Lovegood in a place like Hogsmeade would by no means do wonders for his reputation.
Of course he wasn't jealous.
Of course he didn't feel left behind, let alone lonely. Uh-uh. Not him.
"Oh," said Blaise. "Well. If that's what you want."
Nott tried to read relief from his face so that he would have a reason to get angry, but found nothing of the sort.
"If you find us boring, you just need to say so," Blaise continued. Damn.
"When you are being a bore, I certainly do tell you so. Damn it, Blaise, don't be difficult. I have myself to deal with, and that's quite enough. I need to think, is all."
Luna glanced at him, and then looked at Blaise.
"He needs to think, Blaise," she declared.
Then she turned her gaze to Nott.
"I suggest you go find Weirden Briggs, Theodore. You two have very similar ways of thinking, and she is also a very difficult person, just like you."
"Oh, for Gods' sake, Luna!" Blaise sounded genuinely shocked. "She's a Hufflepuff and a…a… muggleborn and a complete freak altogether. And didn't show any gratitude whatsoever after Theo saved her! Why should he seek her out?"
"Misfits put together make for better weather," she chanted and walked away, Blaise close at her heels. Her head was still half-turned towards Nott. For a moment he thought she had winked at him.
"Halfblood," Nott said, more to himself than to anyone else. "She's not a Mudblood. She's a halfblood, damn it."
Just like Millicent, after all.
Sometimes, when you know you need to think, you find out that your own thoughts tend to fool you. They wander, they waylay you, and suddenly you realize you are thinking about breakfast or Quidditch or Crumple-Horned Snorkacks, for Gods' sake – only to avoid thinking about the subject that needs your attention.
Theo Nott was completely unable to think about anything whatsoever at the moment.
"Baron!" he called out. He was wandering through the empty Dungeons half-aimlessly and half-hoping to run into the Bloody Baron and clear the things up with him, at least. "Oh, come on! I know you're out there, somewhere. Baron!"
"Leave me alone," a voice whispered hoarsely from somewhere in the shadows. "Blood traitor and defector of your kin!"
Nott still couldn't locate the Baron, but he turned in the general direction of the voice.
"I didn't actually betray anyone, you know!" he said, "I thought you'd come to me first, but no. You believed Jerome Riley, of all people, rather than me. Great!"
Nott felt betrayed and hated himself for the feeling. He was aware he was close to yelling, was aware he should probably try to play cool – for the danger of being overheard, if nothing else - and was also aware that he simply – couldn't. Not now, not with Baron. Besides, if he couldn't allow himself to shout at Baron, he couldn't shout at anyone, ever.
"Do you deny the rumours I've heard, then?"
"No, I don't," he almost stomped his foot, but decided that would be pushing it just a bit too far. He also tried to lower his voice. "I don't deny anything. Yeah, I'm a blood traitor and whatnot. Fine!"
He knew he was being stubborn, childish, and utterly undiplomatic, and a part of him – the rational part – told him he wouldn't get anywhere with that attitude, not with the Bloody Baron. But his rational self wasn't strong enough to take control over his emotions; it was barely strong enough to hover in the background and be glad that the school was almost empty, so that the conversation wasn't likely to be eavesdropped on.
"So you admit to your betrayal?"
"Yes. Yes, I do!"
He was aware he sounded more sulky than bitter, and didn't like it one bit. Neither did the Baron, it seemed – not that he was expected to. The ghost hissed with irritation, and his whisper seemed to come from further away this time.
"Foresworn, runagate child! When Notts betray, the world shall come to its end!"
"Well, go prepare for it, then, Baron! The world is ending. So there!"
Nott turned around and ran in the opposite direction, his steps echoing through the dungeons. He could still hear Baron's dampened fuming, but only just, so he stopped to catch his breath, and then sat down.
How on Earth did I end up screaming at a ghost? he thought suddenly, replaying the whole scene in his head. Like a hysterical middle aged woman. What happened to my bloody self-control? Damn it, the only thing I wanted to do was explain some things to him!
He was tired and pissed and the only thing he wanted was… Well, he wasn't sure what he wanted any more. He wanted them to leave him alone, all of them. Yes, that was it. He wasn't positive on what exactly he meant by 'leaving alone' – or 'them', for that matter - but that was what he wanted. He was sick of it all.
There were too many people who knew already. Baron, the Gray Lady, Blaise, Luna. Himself, of course. Riley and the gang. The Briggs girl (what was her name?). Who of them would tell? Sooner or later, the story would leak, that was for sure. No, it was already leaking. Riley had told Baron, and Nott could guess his motives easily. Revenge, of course. Riley couldn't tell other people because… well, because the whole story made him, Riley, look like a complete idiot. On the other hand, Baron already thought Riley was an idiot, so it changed nothing on that field. And Baron wouldn't spread the story, of course. Slytherin pride and all that. It was a shameful secret that should be buried deep. Such. But the consequence of telling Baron – the one Riley had obviously counted on – was that Baron would come to hate Nott, for one. Well, maybe 'hate' wasn't the right word. Despise?
Baron was supposed to be my friend! Why would he trust Riley
"Maybe because Riley was right, for one," Nott muttered, jumped up, and started walking briskly. Walking was better than sitting on the dungeon floor, muttering to himself, still shaking with anger.
Anger directed at himself, mostly.
And now I've just messed up royally. I should have talked to Baron, but no, what I do is come to him and scream at him. How clever. How bloody subtle of me. The best strategy ever
Only, he was tired of strategies.
Riley was a cunning bastard, Nott had to give him that.
He looked around, frowned, and barked a laugh. Just like in books – he had come to the very place of yesterday's conflict, without giving it a thought. Here's where he had stood, here's where Riley had stood, and there's where Briggs had been.
What was he doing here, anyway?
If more people found out – would I really care? he wondered, as he bent down to pick a small item from the ground. He didn't know the answer to his own question, though.
Well, they are going to find out, sooner or later, so I'd better get used to it. Baron might keep it silent out of shame. Even the Gray Lady might not tell – if she indeed wanted to blackmail Baron. But, was Luna able to keep her mouth shut, even if she wanted to? Nott didn't know Luna, and what he saw he didn't understand. At all.
And why would Briggs keep silent? Because of my threats? He wasn't sure it would work with her. She'd probably tell her sister, for one. That's what he'd have done.
Had some of this happened a month or two ago, a part of him might have been delighted at the prospect of Elen Briggs finding out all about it. Luna thought it was brave. Maybe Elen would be a bit impressed too… Only, at the moment, he didn't give a damn about what Elen Briggs thought.
And what's the first name of the younger Briggs, anyway? She had told him, but for the life of him, he couldn't remember, even though Luna had mentioned it. A couple of times, actually. It was something quite ridiculous, that much he knew. Not that it mattered any.
He fingered the thingy he had picked up from the ground, took it out of his pocket, and inspected it: a rather cheap-looking yellow and black medallion with a tiny badger on it.
Halfblood, he thought idly, like Millicent. Then he did a simple finding charm and was on his way.
"Alohomora!" was what interrupted my musings about unlucky patiences and the general unfairness of life, and the door sprang open with a bang. Highly dramatical. I half expected to see a dark silhouette lingering at the door with a rainstorm in the background. Add some lightning and there you are…
It's almost a pity that it was early afternoon, that the light was all wrong, and that you didn't have rainstorms in Hogwarts corridors unless you tried very hard.
I put my wand down.
"Taken," I said. "No vacancy. Go find yourself your own broom closet to angst in."
Theodore Nott still stood at the door, showing no intention whatsoever to move in the near future.
"You are hiding dynamite… where exactly?" he said, referring to something I had said earlier that day… Did he exactly have to be there while I threw my temper tantrum? Bastard.
Having raged, cried, and played patience half the morning, I had reached that certain state of calm and resignation when you are aware of your emotions but aren't really connected to them. Had I been in a different mood – rasher, angrier, more explosive – I might have tried to slam the door on him. As it was, it all felt distant, somehow. I couldn't get myself to care for the present situation as much as I should. Besides, closing the door on Theodore Nott, of all people, didn't sound like a good idea at that moment.
I decided not to answer, so I just scowled and pretended I was concentrated on my game of patience. Hoping beyond hope he'd go away.
"So?"
"What are you doing here, Nott?" I said evenly, for the first time really wondering what he did want. Had he come to taunt me, having nothing better to do? To whine about Elen, which seemed highly unlikely, having everything else in mind? Or, more logically…
"Look," I said, "If you saw me talking to Snape this morning, you can relax. I didn't tell him anything, I'm not a fool. I made up a story, and it went all right. And no need to threaten me any further. I took yesterday's threat to heart, trust me on that."
He leaned against the door frame and grinned. For some reason, I wasn't sure I liked the grin.
"You didn't even bother to lock the door," he pointed out. I had a vague impression I was talking to Luna Lovegood. Had the world gone mad this morning, or did everyone except me lack the concept of topic?
"No," I said. "I didn't. Why would I bother? I'm perfectly capable to take care of whoever walks in." I patted the breast pocket where I kept my wand.
The truth of it was, locking the door hadn't even crossed my mind.
"I told you not to go around alone."
"And you reckon that I'd do whatever you tell me, Nott?"
"Bullshit."
"My point exactly."
"There are dangerous things around here, you know." He didn't say it in a concerned voice; he didn't even sound indifferent. I had a vague impression that he was revelling in the fact.
I felt a strong urge to say something on the lines of There are many dangerous things out there, and I'm one of them, but I was aware it would have sounded utterly idiotic in this context.
"I'm not kidding," he insisted, still sounding quite delighted at the fact. Or was it my imagination?
"Am I supposed to take this as a threat, a warning, or… what?"
"A warning, I guess. What are you doing here anyway?"
I gave an exasperated sigh.
"That's what I asked you, ages ago."
He shrugged.
I shrugged.
He shrugged again.
"Look," I said, "get in or get out, just close the bloody door, all right?"
He chose to get in, for whatever obscure reason.
"Yeah, right," I said, because the situation was strange and I had no idea how to handle it. "Take a seat, why don't you? Relax. Feel at home. Plenty of space here. You can put your luggage down in the back room, and Annie will be here with the tea shortly."
I'd finally made him frown.
"By the way…" he began, and fumbled for something in his breast pocket. I had my wand up and pointing in his direction instantly. He laughed out.
"Not bad, but you still need to work on your reflexes. Did you really think you could take me down that easily?"
"I don't know. I thought you were taking out your wand or something."
"If I cared to duel with you, I would do it openly. Might even give you some advantage. Would still take you down…"
"…one-handed," I put in. "Yeah yeah, I've heard that one before."
"You think I'm bullshitting?"
"Nah."
"By the way, I think this is yours," he stated and pressed something in my hand – the same something he had taken out of his pocket obviously. I took a long stare at it.
"My medallion? The one your friend ripped from my necklace?" I was genuinely surprised.
"Was going that way. Stumbled over it. So I picked it up. Not sure why." He shrugged. "And, he's not my friend."
I shrugged.
"Thanks."
How did one stumble over something that's hardly a half inch thick, I wondered. And how did one notice something as small as a medallion in a torch lit corridor, amongst all the shadows and all that? I said nothing. I was pretty sure what it was, though. The medallion was what you might call a 'conversation-starter'. Like, you come up to someone and say Here, I found your medallion… By the way, since I'm already here - what a coincidence, hahah - I wanted to talk about your sister. Or something on the lines.
I replayed in my head what Nott had said, and noticed the last part that had escaped me before. 'And he's not my friend.'
"Which reminds me," I said. "How did the dormitory inferno go?"
"Hellishly."
Maybe I should just play along and see what he wants, I thought.
"Oh? How so?"
He gave me a dark glare.
"Why do you ask, anyway?"
"Um… to advance the conversation? Besides, since that conflict started because of me – partly – I feel somewhat responsible. A bit."
While I was saying it, I realized it was actually true. I did feel responsible. Stupid Hufflepuff.
"Well, you don't need to. It's got nothing to do with you."
That was true, of course. It didn't make me feel any better about the matter, but I had to admit it was true.
"Okay," I said.
I shrugged.
He shrugged.
This was getting ridiculous.
"Right," I said matter-of-factly, "If you don't tell me why exactly you came here and what you want from me, and if you don't do it at once, I'm going to thump you on the head with my rucksack!"
Nott looked down at me quite incredulously, his face slowly spreading in a grin. Than he threw his head back and started shaking from laughter. I didn't have a choice but to join.
When the merriment had died down a bit, I sighed and leaned back against the wall. The atmosphere, at least, had become a tad more relaxed (even if I hadn't). I motioned him to sit down and he did. The silence, however, threatened to re-establish itself – and I still didn't have a clue about what the guy wanted. He wanted something, for sure. Slytherins always did.
He stared at my cards, probably buying some time.
"Stupid Muggle things. They don't even move," he said.
"It's quite relaxing, actually. They don't nag at you all the time. Wizarding queens tend to be particularly irritating."
"Well, that's half the fun in the game, isn't it?" He paused. "I sometimes think wizards have all the fun."
"Witches don't have a bad time either, you know,"
"That's not what I meant."
"I know." I grinned. "But there are some fun things in the Muggle world too. I miss films over the school year, for instance. Ever heard of films?"
"I'm not uneducated, you know. Besides, I used to take Muggle Studies."
"You did? Why? 'Know the enemy' and all that crap?"
He gave me a dark glare.
"Don't push it, Briggs."
Nott seemed somewhat edgier than the day before, I noticed; I wasn't at my best either, after all that had happened. We fell silent.
"The nine of spades goes on the ten of hearts," he said suddenly, staring down at my abandoned game of patience. "If the rules are the same."
"They are."
How had I managed to overlook that move before, I wondered. My concentration hadn't been extremely high, obviously, but still.
He moved the card.
"That way we get the ace of diamonds out," he said, and I decided to remember that 'we'. Something slightly strange was taking place here. "And – look, there's the two too."
"I saw that," I said, which was one big lie, of course.
We spent the next five minutes racing who would notice the possible moves first. Arguing whose moves were better. Such. For a moment I had almost forgotten who I was talking to.
"You mind if I smoke?"
I shook my head.
"Can I have one too?" I said.
He lit a cigarette and arched an eyebrow.
"You smoke, Briggs?"
"Weeell… not as such, no."
"Then no, you can't."
"Why not?"
"'Cause it's not healthy."
"You smoke."
"Well, you won't be starting now."
"But I want to try."
"You are an utter idiot, Briggs."
"Yeah, that can be a good, intelligent response to anything I say."
He grinned and moved the pack away from me when I tried to reach for it.
"Briggs?"
"What?"
"I've been trying to remember your first name, but I can't."
"People don't keep forgetting my first name, usually, you know."
"Yeah, I know. I remember it's something freakish, but…"
"Weirden."
"Oh, Gods."
"That was your reaction yesterday, also."
"I know."
"You are not suggesting we shift to the first name basis, are you, Nott? Because that would make me very suspicious."
"Don't worry. Just asking. Just… for the record."
"Of course."
"Of course."
I felt an urge to shrug, but suppressed it.
Pause.
"Besides," he continued. "I couldn't call you 'Weirden'. I couldn't call anyone 'Weirden'. I'd be laughing too hard to speak."
"Pity you are called Theodore," I said. "That sounds pretty normal. If your name was Blaise or, say, Draco – I could return the favour."
He chuckled.
"I could shorten 'Weirden' to 'Den', though."
"Then I'd call you 'Dora'. In public."
We stared at each other for a moment, and burst out laughing.
I had relaxed too much, I realized suddenly. Laughed too much; talked too much. What was he doing here? Sitting in a broom closet on a Hogsmeade weekend and playing patience with Weirden Briggs of all people? A Slytherin? A Nott? No way.
I measured him for a moment as he was still gasping for air. Oh, he was pleasant enough when we didn't talk about Houses or families or such crap. A part of me wanted to ignore the facts and just go on laughing until I choked. On the other hand, that was the same part of me that had wanted a cigarette. One should learn not to trust all the parts of oneself.
"All right," I said, "Game over. The moment of truth. Cards on the table. All that."
He furrowed his eyebrows.
"Huh?"
"What the hell do you want from me, Nott?"
He looked at me in surprise, but it lasted just for a second. Then he seemed to sober up, and suddenly he looked tired, of all things.
"Oh, I don't know," he shook his head slightly. "I really don't know."
What caught me unawares was the fact that he sounded quite genuine, actually. I didn't know what to say.
"Right. I'd better be going, then…" He pocketed his cigarettes and jumped up to his feet.
"No." My words surprised myself as much as they did him.
"No?"
I shrugged.
"Well, since you obviously haven't gone to Hogsmeade, and since you have probably got nothing better to do – or you wouldn't have come here in the first place, I guess… You might as well stay."
Yes, it sounded lame. I was completely aware of it. I wasn't even sure why I was doing it, and neither was Nott, it seemed. He looked as if he was waiting for me to say something more, so I did.
"Besides," I continued, "this broom closet is large and comfy and especially fit for camping."
"Yeah," he chuckled, "and Peggie will be here with the tea shortly."
"It's Annie," I said. "Not Peggie. Annie."
"Oh, of course. Right. So…"
For the first time I noticed some air of nervousness and hesitation around him. As for myself, I felt strangely… light-headed. I couldn't be bothered to think coherently at the moment, to analyze his motives and engage in the other paranoid activities usual for me. Whatever happened, I didn't care. For some reason.
"Oh, sit down and take a smoke or something," I said "Who gives a damn, anyway."
"Right."
A pause.
"Know what, Briggs? I think you might turn out to be somewhat okay. For a... muggleborn, I mean."
Had I been in a different mood, I'd have probably laughed at him, just to get back at him for laughing at me the day before – for the very same thing. As it was, I decided to take it as a compliment. I didn't have much choice, anyway.
"Nyah," I said. "You too. For a Slytherin."
"But you mustn't tell anyone I was here. Anyone. They'd…"
"Crucify you and feed your body to the newts. Or something. I know. Don't worry."
"And I'm here only because I really have nothing better to do."
"Of course."
"Of course."
He shrugged.
I grinned.
"And," he continued, "no shoulder-clapping, friendly hand-shakes, comforting arm-patting…"
"Okay, I get the point."
"I just don't like that."
"Fine."
I noticed a corner of his mouth twitch slightly and wondered if he was pushing it a bit. Pulling my leg, just a tad.
"And…" he paused.
"When you are done setting the rules, Nott, we might…"
"What?"
"I don't know. Play patience?"
"Right."
"Right."
It wasn't much. But it was… a beginning.
THE END