/
"Where were you today, Nott?" Hermione had found him in exactly the same place she'd left him that morning, albeit a touch more harried-looking, hunched over three bubbling midnight blue cauldrons, the room thick and warm with a dense swirling fog.
Her cheeks were flushed from the effort of her sprint through the castle to the cramped room, and her chest heaved as she pointed her wand squarely at Nott's nose.
He held his hands up as if in surrender, completely unprepared and entirely perturbed by her abruptness.
"Granger, you've officially lost it. What the hell did Potter and Weasley do to you in Hogsmeade? Did they slip something in your Butterbeer?"
"Don't— you heard me, Nott. Where were you today?"
Her golden brown eyes were blazing and fierce, even through Felix's blue haze. Theo briefly considered that he could now say he knew how Draco had likely felt on the train, when she'd had him at wand-point.
He wasn't about to give in, however.
"Why? Someone attack Potter out there in the open? Can't believe they still let that git out of the castle. Don't tell me he's made yet another visit to our dear Madam Pomfrey."
Hermione stepped forward with more quickness than he'd ever imagined her capable. He felt the tip of her wand against his sternum.
"Just tell me."
"Or what, prefect? You'll hex me? Go ahead—"
He could hear his heart thumping in his ears— he wasn't foolish enough not to be at least a little intimidated; he knew she wasn't top of their year for nothing.
Hermione's eyes darkened, unblinking. She backed away slowly, inching toward the steaming cauldrons, her wand position unwavering. She reached her other hand toward the cauldrons and Theo actually felt his own eyes widen as he recognized her silent threat to destroy their work.
"You wouldn't—"
"You have no idea what I would or wouldn't do, Nott."
This much was true, as true as it was for Draco. Honestly, he wasn't really sure what either of them were fully capable of, and he wasn't in the mood to find out.
"You're mad."
"Don't make me ask again," she said, glancing briefly at the cauldrons before meeting his gaze again.
"If I must— where the bleeding hell do you think I've been all day? I was here. And if you must know, I left twice to use the loo and once to eat lunch in the Great Hall… but that's it."
There was a moment of silence, interrupted only by the low rumbling of their developing potion.
"I don't believe you."
"Of course you don't. Congratulations, you're more intelligent than the common troll. Only a fool would believe the first thing someone tells you in an interrogation."
"This isn't an interrogation," she said, and Theo noticed her brow furrow in concern.
She really can't bear to think of herself as the bad guy.
"Look, I don't know what I can do to—" Theo stopped as he suddenly recalled the Veritaserum he'd nicked from his grandfather's old potions' stores. Slughorn hadn't been lying when he'd referred to Nehemiah's potioneering obsession.
Theo's own father had told him that when his grandfather had died, the old coot had made or accumulated enough Veritsaserum to interrogate the UK's entire wizarding population, or, more realistically, all its blood traitors. He'd grown up not only knowing his father had inherited this collection, but had been on the receiving end of it on more than one occasion. When Theo had been old enough to realize the value of such a potion, he managed to swipe his own little store of the stuff. He'd never used it, though, despite how helpful it would've been to get the truth from Malfoy on more than one occasion over the years.
I'm not a monster, Theo thought, swallowing hard at the memory of the agony he'd endured at the hands of his father's use of Veritaserum— with the realization he was about to volunteer to drink it.
"Give me Veritaserum."
He couldn't believe Granger actually had the nerve to sigh impatiently.
Merlin, she and Draco are two mandrakes in the same soil.
"That would be helpful if we actually had—"
"In the case," Theo explained simply, wanting nothing more than to get this over with. He needed Felix, so he knew he had to convince her of the truth. It was the only way. "I stole some from my father, after the start of his little summer holiday," he lied.
Even though it was but a brief mention, it felt strange to talk about his father out loud, let alone with Granger.
"No," her voice echoed dully throughout the room.
"You're telling me you've got a better idea? You'll never believe me without it, just like I wouldn't believe you."
Theo noted the conflict in her expression, but he felt strangely proud to see she never lowered her wand.
"Fine, what does it look like? Surely even you aren't stupid enough to keep it in a bottle labelled 'Veritaserum.'"
"I'm touched, you don't think I'm stupid. What a tender moment."
She gain sighed with audible impatience.
"Round, little pink bottle…" he explained.
Theo watched as Hermione rummaged through his potions kit, emerging with said bottle after a moment or two.
"Do you want to sit down for this?"
"You're deciding to be thoughtful now? Granger, you really are sick."
"Just take it," she ordered, then bit her lip.
"Cheers," he replied, feigning enjoyment, as he took the bottle from her hand and took a swig without hesitation. Hermione watched him in silence, her brown eyes wide.
It'd been a long time since Veritaserum— the administration of which his father had referred to as "parenting"— had touched his lips— and he'd vaguely hoped it might've prepared him for the pain, but now the potion seared through his mouth, nose, and throat as if he had swallowed liquid fire. His heart raced in his ears and chest, and he felt as though he could feel each agonizing drop of the potion enter his stomach, slowly, one by one.
Then, suddenly, it was as if he'd been flayed open, Adam's apple to navel. He was sure Granger could see his heart, beating there in the open cavity of his chest. He doubled over in agony, flashes of light obscuring his vision. It was all worse— so much worse— than he remembered.
Hermione lunged forward to prop him up as he staggered against the potion's effects, and he managed to brace himself against her weight and the corner of a table.
"Quick—" he groaned in a voice he did not recognize.
"Where were you today?"
"I was here— working on Felix Felicis. I went— I went to the loo twice, and I— I ate lunch in the Great Hall," he didn't attempt to resist the potion's desire for the truth.
The pain was unbearable, and he was grateful for Granger's continued assistance to simply remain somewhat upright.
"Do you know anything about a cursed necklace?"
"—Yes—"
He saw Hermione's eyes narrow in anger.
"Your necklace—"
Her expression softened sightly. "It's cursed?"
"I—I don't know, actually," he resisted the urge to cry out in pain, "I know— only Draco can take— take it off—"
And that's all, Theo convinced himself firmly, even though he knew more about the necklace's locator ability, even though the potion's fiery tendrils were taking hold. His resistance techniques were coming back to him. That's all, he told the Veritaserum as it urged him to say more.
"Do you know anything about a cursed opal necklace?"
This one was easier, Theo had no idea what she was talking about.
"No," He croaked, wondering why she was asking about a different necklace.
"Where was Draco today?"
"—McGonagall— detention— as far as I know."
"Did he have anything delivered to the owlry in Hogsmeade?"
"Granger— stop—"
He didn't think he could bear the torture any longer. He collapsed to his knees and Granger did the same, facing him as she braced his shoulders with her hands.
Theo had lost the capacity to consider the meaning behind her questions.
"I don't— know. I try— to help him— but he doesn't…" Theo could not stop the words from escaping his lips, despite his best efforts, "…tell me much."
"Do you have any reason to believe you've been Imperiused?"
This question was so unexpected, he answered instantly, "No."
"Granger— stop—!"
"Do you want to give Draco the Felix Felicis when we finish?"
"Yes— fuck—!"
"I figured as much…"
"Congrats—antidote— now—"
He saw her pause momentarily, a maniacal smirk gracing her lips, as if she'd suddenly remembered a particularly snarky joke someone had told her.
"Do you think you're smarter than me?"
"—what the— hell?— yes— I'm smarter— with some things!"
The Veritaserum forced out each word; Theo could fight no longer, the brief relief the truth provided too tempting.
"Do you think I'm attractive?"
This, Theo answered of his own volition, "I think— you're a sadist!"
Even through his agony, some part of him was amused. The Veritaserum wouldn't let him breathe, however, not until he answered fully, and truthfully.
"—yes, I think you're—attractive, but— not as attractive— as I think— Draco— finds you."
Wildly, he actually felt like laughing as she retreated from him in surprise, and disturbance, and—
Is she blushing? The pain roared through his skull, and the bluish fog seemed to be suffocating him. He was sure he was about to lose consciousness.
"Get— the bloody antidote—!"
As if coming to, she scrambled to her feet and rummaged through his potions' case again. Theo's palms fell to the floor as he attempted to brace himself on his his hands and knees.
"Seriously—? And you— call yourself… a witch! Accio Veritaserum antidote!" He gasped.
The small bottle of antidote flew into his shaking, outstretched hand and he drank from it as though he were rapidly perishing of dehydration.
The searing pain instantly faded, leaving his entire body throbbing, his chest heaving. He collapsed onto his back, his hazel eyes staring up into the blue fog.
"Nott!"
To his surprise, Hermione rushed to his side, actual concern in her voice.
"You suddenly care about my well-being?" He breathed, his voice weak. "Where was that concern two minutes ago? 'Do you think I'm attractive?' Honestly, Granger… you're unbelievable!"
"Sorry—"
"No, you're not. But I commend you. Id've probably done the same," he smirked.
"I'd ask you if you're okay, but that seems rather—"
"Pointless? At last, you and I agree on something."
Still on his back, he turned his head to the side, and found her sitting propped up against the wall, her arms around her knees, watching him. He didn't know how to feel about her concern for him… it was a foreign feeling, one he didn't have the strength to examine.
"You know, Malfoy's a—" she began.
"A what? Git? Bloody arsehole? Twat? Prat? Fu—"
"—yes," she hastily interrupted his slew of curses.
"So are Potter and Weasley, you know. Complete gits— but I suppose that's the thing about friendship, or something. I dunno what that says about us… but since we're getting on so swimmingly, let's agree not to pity each other, okay?"
They considered each other for a moment, and, in silence, agreed.
Theo wondered if effects of the Veritaserum had not completely worn off yet, or if he just no longer cared.
He watched with curiosity as she pulled her bag into her lap and searched through its contents. A moment later, her hand emerged, clasped around the neck of a bottle of Ogden's finest.
"Is that—? I must be hallucinating from the pain— take me to the hospital wing."
"Are you sure? More for me then," she said as she uncapped the bottle and brought it to her lips. She winced comically at the taste and he laughed out loud at her expression, unwittingly causing him to grimace at his own lingering pain.
He and Draco had become rather well-acquainted with the sensation of Ogden's burn that summer. '"Can't let it go bad,"' Draco had proclaimed each time they'd uncapped a bottle.
With much effort, Theo managed to prop himself up on his elbows. He felt like he'd been run over by a Hippogriff.
"Here," she said. "Drink. I got it for you anyways… for watching over Felix today. And don't give me that look— I'm of age, you know."
"Me too… not that it matters."
He did as he was told, and gladly. The burn was warm and comforting compared to the searing fury of Veritaserum.
"Suppose this means you're done working on Felix, now that you know I'll probably just give it to Draco?"
To his surprise, she shrugged. "I figured that might be your plan— or at least you planned to share it with him… assuming we're even able to do it right."
She was right, of course. He had his own doubts about their ability to complete the potion at all, let alone successfully, but he had planned to share it with Draco— Merlin knew the prat needed it. He eyed the still-bubbling cauldrons wearily.
"Now what the hell was that about a cursed opal necklace?"
"Ask Malfoy," she answered gravely, any shred of lightness from the room now erased.
/
/
By the time Hermione made it back to Gryffindor Tower, it was completely deserted; she had even been forced to wake the Fat Lady, much to the portrait's great disapproval and irritation.
Hermione had been prepared with an explanation, lest she should she be caught out of the common room after hours (she had decided to extend her prefect's patrol a few hours, after hearing what had happened to Katie Bell). Thankfully, she hand't needed to resort to this lie, as she'd somehow made it back to Gryffindor Tower without crossing the path of a single person, alive or ghost. Filch's cat, Mrs. Norris, had been nowhere to be seen.
It seemed the common room had been emptied long ago, the typically blazing fire now minimized to a pile of black and amber coals and white ash.
The room was uncharacteristically chilly, but she didn't feel it— she was completely wired from her "conversation" with Theo… and a little drunk, too.
She plopped herself on the floor in front of the dying embers, wrapping her sweater more tightly around her, and retrieved a quill and a scrap of parchment from her bag.
Right— she thought, doing her best to focus, as if she were actually setting up to write that essay she'd claimed was due on Monday.
'Things I Know So Far,' she scribbled at the top of the parchment, barely noticing her scrawl had become rather untidy, thanks to Ogden's.
'-Katie obtained a cursed necklace, probably in the bathroom at the Three Broomsticks, but we don't know how she got it
-Katie was meant to deliver the necklace to someone, but we don't know who
-The necklace is the same one Harry and I saw at Borgin and Burkes
-Malfoy also definitely saw the necklace, and knows of its existence
-Malfoy wanted Borgin to fix something
-Malfoy reserved something that was probably too large or bulky to carry out of the shop
-Nott doesn't know anything about the necklace or what Malfoy's up to, but he knows he's up to something, and he's trying to help him, but Malfoy won't let him'
Hermione sighed and ran her hand through her already disheveled hair.
She wasn't sure how she felt for Theo— sympathetic? No— he'd said not to pity him, nor herself.
He's right.
It was clear Theo recognized she'd been in his place before, or something like it, and she certainly felt an odd sort of kinship for his position, not unfamiliar with the difficulties of wanting to help your best friends— to show them they weren't alone— even as they refused to accept it.
She reviewed her list so far, and continued writing furiously:
'-Malfoy had detention with McGonagall all day because he isn't keeping up with his homework, probably because he's been too busy with whatever it is he's up to
-Snape and Malfoy are acting differently around each other
-Malfoy is probably a Death Eater
-Nott probably knows Malfoy is probably a Death Eater
-Nott is not a Death Eater
-Nott will probably give Malfoy Felix Felicis, if we succeed'
…and Nott thinks I'm attractive, but not as attractive as he thinks Malfoy thinks I am… she thought involuntarily, suddenly feeling irrationally warm and tingly, as if the dying embers before her had leapt into a roaring flame.
Focus— she told herself.
Hermione reviewed the list again and again, as if clear answers would suddenly emerge between the lines of her hastily-written words, but none came.
She had no actual proof that Malfoy had been behind what had happened to Katie, but she couldn't deny the mounting evidence, nor the nagging feeling in her heart.
She also couldn't deny that part of her hoped Malfoy hadn't been behind it, that she was all wrong, and he actually wasn't a Death Eater.
Don't be stupid, she thought, in a voice that sounded quite like Nott's. Why do you care so much about Malfoy?
I don't want anyone to be a Death Eater, she argued internally. Not just Malfoy.
Hermione recognized her own thoughts sounded unconvincing.
She wasn't sure of much, but as she reviewed her list one more time, she decided one thing was for certain:
I need to keep a closer eye on Malfoy.
/
/
A/N: I know Veritaserum is a trope, but I really enjoyed putting my own spin on it for Hermione and Theo. I hope you enjoyed reading it! I'd like to dedicate this chapter to all the reviewers here and on FFN, especially VulgarAssassin, my first reviewer for this fic.