Disclaimer: All mentioned characters and settings are owned by JK Rowling and publishers who partook in the HP series. No money is being profited from this story nor do I claim anything as my own; no copyright law is being broken.
"Ron, I don't think I can do this." Hermione paused, the suitcase held tightly in her hand shuddering along with her body. "No. I definitely can't do this."
The redhead smiled uneasily, his comforting skills generally quite fickle and awkward when it came to women. He tried his best during the second war, though his efforts did little to quell her fear; however, she still regarded them and feigned okay, but now with the war over, his endeavors at soothing her had lessened. Still, she felt her stomach settle slightly when he placed his hand gently on her shoulder.
"Honestly, Hermione, it's just teaching," he calmed her. "You know as well as I do that you probably could've taught our classes better than our professors when we went there."
"But you and Rose…"
"Will be fine," he assured, sliding his hand from her shoulder to around her neck and kissed her forehead gently. "Besides, you're not the head for any of the Houses so you can come home during the weekends and Harry and Ginny's invited me and Rose over for dinner–"
"Dinner?" she interrupted upon the mention of the word. She grabbed his thick wrist between her fingers before bringing it closer to her face, reading the time on his wristwatch with alarm. "Oh Merlin, I promised McGonagall I'd be there fifteen minutes ago! That's terribly unprofessional of me, I–"
"Better get going, yeah," he smiled faintly before kissing her cheek. "Send me an owl when you get settled in and everything. Tonight or tomorrow, doesn't matter."
She nodded before promptly standing on her tiptoes, returning the kiss on his cheek much to his delight, and dissapparted from her husband, her child, and her home to the outskirts of Hogsmeade covered by a thin sheet of polished snow refracted by light from the night's moon. Instead of boarding Hogwarts Express earlier that morning she decided to have one last dinner with her family and informed she'd apparate to Hogsmeade and walk to the castle in time for dinner instead. Incidentally her latter promise was broken and she was evidently running quite late. Trudging hastily through the town and onto the pathway paved toward Hogwarts, she eventually found herself within the castle's warm grounds and began wandering through the familiar halls.
By now she figured dinner was over and the students had scampered back to their selected Houses, leaving her free to walk the hallways without accompanying noise and questionable glances from adolescents. To her surprise, however, someone else was occupying the empty corridors with her.
"Funny, Granger. From what I can recall, you were usually the one to opt for punctuality, but I suppose a decade can wear one's preference down."
Hermione stilled before she jerked her head to the side, craning her neck to glance toward the back of her before reeling herself about to face the intruder. She found a lanky man with a smirk creating a grotesque expression across his otherwise decent features. She then blinked at him, drawing up a blank for his name and felt slightly uncomfortable with his knowledge of her while she had little of his.
"Oh, what's this? You don't remember me, do you Granger?" he proceeded toward her, his cruel and calculating eyes seemingly devouring her whole. "Well, I suppose a Slytherin's name wouldn't mean much to you. Especially one that didn't partake in Malfoy's little shadow of glory. But I'll give you one clue and guess to who I am to prove you're still the brightest witch in Hogwarts."
"Go on then," she heard herself demand with full confidence, ignoring the uneasiness that balled painfully in her stomach. The atmosphere that associated with the man before her did not sit well at all and she felt her right hand twitch slightly, its palm instinctively turning toward her wand located within the depths of her jacket's pocket.
"'freshly mowed grass and new parchment and…'" he deliberately trailed off and she assumed he was quoting something she had said in their adolescent days, however, could not distinguish it amongst the hundreds of other things she ever said while in Hogwarts. The obvious delayed answer gave way to her uncertainty and an indurate expression slid its way into place on his bemused face.
Well, she thought grimly, there was no doubt that he was, as he stated earlier, a Slytherin with the way he carried himself on. But exactly what Slytherin was he?
Think, Hermione, think.
When did she ever mention or think of lawns? How on earth were they related in the same sentence as parchment? And… and what? It was then when a vague memory had shone through her fogged mind and she immediately recognized the man whom challenged her wit minutes prior.
"Nott." someone called from down the hall before she could and, for a fleeting moment, his expression faltered as the two glanced toward the voice's direction.
"Neville?" Hermione blinked as the other man approached the two. He clumsily smiled, confirming her address. "Oh Neville! It's so nice to see you!"
"You too, Hermione," laughed the heavier set wizard before redirecting his eyes upon the other, his gaze hardening visibly as his tone grew distant. "Nott, what's the reason behind dinner's disappearance?"
Nott's smirk widened maliciously. "Don't question my intentions, Longbottom. I can assure you this encounter wasn't premeditated like you assume it is and I certainly wasn't planning on causing any discomfort to the glorious Hermione Granger. I simply retired from dinner earlier and ran into her in the halls. Though, I am a little curious to why she's late. Not a trait of hers from what I can remember."
"Fair enough." Neville dismissed coolly. "Oh, and it's Hermione Weasley now. Strange, Nott, you're normally up to date."
"Not with the golden trio," sneered Nott. "I tend to avert any news of them, they're not worth reading in my opinion. But, never mind what I'm aware of, Longbottom, I'll leave you two to yourselves."
Neville's gaze followed the retreating wizard until Nott had vanished completely as he pivoted and headed down a different corridor; the chubby man's steel expression softening when he redirected his eyes upon the brunette. "Hermione," he smiled warmly, "how're you and Ron?"
"Fantastic," she answered, beaming; waiting until they were a few decent feet away from where they had met until she questioned, "Neville, that wasn't Theodore Nott by any chance was it?"
"As a matter of a fact, you're right," nodded her cherubic friend, motioning for her to follow him. She obliged and he began to lead her down the opposite direction Theodore had headed.
Theodore Nott. He had certainly grown from his stringy appearance a decade back from the last time she had managed to catch a glimpse of him in the shadow of the Slytherin House. Appearance wise, he was still slightly ungainly and a little soiled looking with a suspicious ambiance creeping about him. Not that she expected much else from the likes of him anyway.
"But his father was a Death Eater; you know that," Hermione frowned suspiciously. "At the Department of Mysteries, his father tried attacking Harry but I stunned him and…"
"He was sent to Azkaban after we escaped, yeah," finished Neville solemnly. "But they never proved Nott followed his father's footsteps though. Apparently, right after our sixth year, one of his relatives sent a letter to Hogwarts explaining why they were pulling Nott out for the next upcoming year and that they were, supposedly, going to travel around for a bit. He returned a year after you did to finish his N.E.W.Ts and sent in an application to teach three years after he graduated. Minerva claimed she had no reason to refuse him a job and, with his credentials, hired him as the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor."
"So Professor Mc-I mean, Minerva, gave him the Defense Against the Dark Arts post without taking his father's background in account?"
Neville nodded in confirmation. "Yeah, she's trying to rid the bigotry our school still holds for the Slytherin House. But I don't care what anyone says, I don't trust him or the lot. He may never have followed Voldemort or, at least, doesn't have the mark to show his loyalties, but his friends most certainly do." He then led her toward the kitchen, gathering her food for her dinner from the house-elves and then proceeded to show her to the staff quarters and to her room where she'd reside in for the remainder of the semester's several weeks.
"Thank you, Neville," she smiled kindly at him as he sharply swished his wand and the objects from her suitcase began to float their way toward the room's closet and bureau. He had certainly grown into a marvelously skilled wizard from the first time he performed magic during his earlier years in Gryffindor.
"Tell Harry, Ron, and Ginny I say hi," he exchanged the smile before departing ways with her to head to his own room.
With her things already in place and her stomach already full from her dinner she had with Ron and Rose hours prior, Hermione slipped into her night attire and crawled onto her lone bed lacking the usual warmth of another body normally occupying it. Laying in the room's darkness she had allowed her mind to wander as her eyes strayed to the darkest of shadows. She assumed Rose was already asleep in her crib while Ron passed out minutes after, snoring loudly with his mouth opened slightly as the ungodly noise roared from his lips. Ron. Her heart twitched slightly at the name and she felt a smile curl her lips upward fondly as her eyelids began to flutter shut. Her musings then traveled to the man she had run into before Neville while she began to lose her conscious to a seducing slumber. Her mind was already set on the idea that he had attributed to the second war – his father's malicious face searing itself within her hazed mind along with his disgusting thirst to kill Harry – although she had little next no substantial proof to support her suspicions.
Theodore Nott. Son of Death Eater Nott; cold, dispassionate, sadistic and calculating. Once a deprived boy who was too mute during his adolescence for anyone to strive for his hidden and locked background. Now merely a man most associated with the dwelling, horrific shadow his father had cast behind. Most importantly, an enigma Hermione would certainly not allow herself to bother with.
Theodore Nott. The last thought on her mind until she completely lost her conscious to sleep.
-Man. I've been trying so hard to keep this plot's settings and characters as canon as I can unlike my other stories which most are admittedly AU up the ying-yang. Hah. Anyway, from my brief research on Hogwarts, there's little information where professors live during the week unless they have a house in Hogsmeade. I find it imaginable that they return to their families during weekends and holidays unless they're heads of Houses or the Headmaster/mistress. So I assume they're provided with rooms for themselves during the week like other boarding schools. Feel free to correct me if I'm wrong but I'm probably not going to change the chapter, regardless. I kinda need it in the plot. haha
And ummmm, more interaction with Theodore (along with his thoughts on a certain redhead) will definitely ensue next chapter. w00t.
Blahhhh, I hate this chapter. May revise later on. Anyway, pushing my self loathing aside, I'd love any type of feedback and whatnot and thanks to those who sent some for the first chapter. You guys are way awesome :)