Hi, guys! I'm trying to make it a resolution to try and update most of my stuff more frequently. Life doesn't let me write much anymore but I am going to try. So...ages ago I started this and I've finally been inspired to add a bit more. Love you all!

LCailan

6 - Wandering Eyes

I've got a new job. Well, it's not like I haven't been able to hold down a sodding job since Hogwarts for Merlin's sake! I've had jobs - six of them to be precise. I'm capable of that no matter what those pureblooded bigots think. I'm perfectly capable of bloody anything, really, and they still treat me like rubbish! At any rate I thought I'd make mention since this seems a rather significant change in my not-so significant life. I'm working at a pub called A Touch of Magic and it's located right outside of Diagon Alley. I rather think the proprietor thinks she's going to be competition for Rosmerta but I sadly doubt that. Still, it's a job - and a better paying one than I've ever had. I'll finally be able to pay my own sodding rent. What has my life become?!

Hermione pulled her long coat closer around her face to shield herself from the falling sleet as she hurried down the wet cement towards the building where Luna lived. It was downtown, a few blocks from the University and situated on a block where buildings were squished up against one another as if to fit as much property as possible.

Hermione moved quickly, making sure to stay at least two steps ahead of Luna.

She didn't want her blonde-haired friend to guess the truth - that working at A Touch of Magic wasn't exactly what Hermione believed was prestigious. She was a bar maid, for Merlin's sake! She was spending nearly twelve hours a day serving drinks and pub food to those that considered her beneath them!

It's rubbish, pure and simple!

But could she tell Luna that? Of course not - Luna had gotten her the job.

The proprietor, a rather half-witted, middle-aged woman with perpetually messy hair happened to be the aunt of one of Luna's university classmates. Hermione wasn't even certain what status her new boss held! Was she a witch? Was she a Squib? Was she from a magical family? That sort of thing mattered even though in the past it hadn't. Now you were nothing if you weren't...

Hermione stopped her train of thought.

It wasn't like the work was hard, really. In fact it was elementary and just that fact caused the brilliant witch great unrest. She wanted to be something! She wanted to do something for wizarding society - fight against the dark arts, teach the younger generation all she had learned or even make a great, medicinal discovery that would change the wizarding world! She had itched to take more Herbology and Potion classes at the University of the Higher Study of Magical Arts.

But, no. Instead she was going to spend most of her sodding life serving fucking drinks to half-pissed wizards who liked ogling her somewhat ample bosom. It was a travesty!

And Luna doesn't even give a piss, does she?

Hermione glanced over her shoulder quickly.

That part wasn't exactly true. She knew Luna cared. In fact, her close friend seemed rather perturbed and concerned at Hermione's abrupt behavior that morning and struggled to keep up with her hurried footsteps.

"What's got you this morning, Hermione?"

Luna's words were breathless from exertion and it took everything for Hermione not to snap at her well-meaning friend.

"I don't want to be late to work is all. We have a ham and egg special this morning if you want a bit of brekkie before classes."

The words were strained as Hermione tried to be cheery when she felt nothing remotely like it.

"Maybe," sang Luna.

The women rounded another corner and slipped towards Diagon Alley. Once there, Luna was able to catch up with the fast-moving brunette.

"I wanted to talk to you about the party at my flat."

The concern was thick now and Hermione wanted to tell Luna to sod off. The last thing she wanted to think about besides her infuriating position in society was the horrid way her supposed boyfriend had treated her the previous Friday evening.

"I'd rather not talk about that, if you don't mind."

Hermione's voice had frozen over and Luna bit her lip.

"Look, I know it wasn't easy but I'm glad you came."

Hermione stopped abruptly, cinnamon-colored eyes widening as they flashed humorlessly in Luna's direction.

"Well, that's a good thing, then, isn't it? Who bleeding cares that my own boyfriend humiliated me in front of our closest friends so long as I took the time out of my schedule to socialize!"

Hermione did not wait to see if the words served to wound Luna, instead dashing across the worn, cobbled street towards her current place of employment - a tiny, brick building that was wedged in between two others that looked just like it.

Even buildings were paintings of the growing gaps in wizarding society. Those who were Muggle-born hadn't been able to afford property in what seemed like ages and those that had managed it somehow owned the worst of what was available. Surrounding them were the businesses and establishments owned by those who were lucky enough to be half-bloods.

The upper crust did not have to work; they simply employed those "beneath" them.

Muggle-borns weren't lucky enough to work for such people but sometimes they were able to work for the half-bloods or those witches or wizards who understood their plight. Hermione's new employer, as strange as she was, happened to be one of those people.

And I ought to be glad.

But as Hermione stared up at the brick building with its falling-apart steps and faded red awning, she was only mildly grateful but mostly livid. And Luna seemed unfazed by Hermione's earlier outburst.

"I know you're angry," she was saying as the two women stood outside the wooden door that led into the front part of the pub.

"Luna, I told you I didn't-"

"I know! But you've been hiding away from us for ages! It isn't just this party! It's the way you've pulled away, the way you've treated Ron-"

Hermione pressed her lips together and without replying, stepping into the establishment. It was already redolent with the sweet, salty and fried scents of breakfast and two or three patrons lined the back booths, swathed in shadows for the room was poorly lit.

"Happy morning!"

The pub owner stuck her head around the door that led to the kitchens, giving Hermione a bright, cheerful smile. She was gone as quickly as she had appeared. Without turning to see if Luna would follow and barrage her with comments, Hermione moved to grab an apron and get ready for the day ahead.

She was glad, for once, that the pub had patrons for breakfast for it meant she wouldn't have to think - and thinking was a bad thing.

Luna was right. She had been hiding away - avoiding her former close friends and even Ron. At least with Ron she had felt justified in her anger…

Hermione scowled as she moved towards the middle of the room, giving the two older men seated over their plates a smile she did not feel. Luna took a seat on one of the wooden stools near to the bar and opened one of her books, opting not to say another word.

Luna was intuitive - Hermione would give her that.

As she began buffing the top of the bar with rough strokes Hermione couldn't help but think of her increasingly crumbling relationship with Ron. It had been bothering her since their row at her flat several nights before but more certainly after the almost...cold reception at Luna's party the night before. She was starting to wonder if their relationship was strong enough to weather the political and social storm that was certain to come with his new position at the Ministry.

And with the new Minister being bloody Lucius Malfoy-

"Morning' to ya, Hermione!"

She jumped at the sound of her name, the cloudy expression disappearing from her face as she tossed aside the rag and looked towards one of the patrons. He was a regular for their breakfast specials and always had a kind word or warm smile for her.

Hermione thought he looked a bit like Lupin and perhaps that was why she had taken so well to him.

"Good morning," she offered with the first genuine smile of the day. "More juice for you?"

"That's mighty good stuff for sure," he agreed.

Hermione waved her wand over his empty glass and it refilled with fresh, cold pumpkin juice.

"Delightful," he said and then his sparkling eyes grew sympathetic.

"Now, I might wager that I'm nearly an old codger but I know when a lady is upset. What's got you sad, Hermione?"

Hermione paused, having been halfway turned around to head back to the bar. Instead, she turned to give her customer an uncertain, sad smile.

"Loads of things lately, it seems," she admitted.

Though tempted to pour out her list of deepening troubles to the near stranger, Hermione hesitated. You couldn't trust anyone anymore; she had no knowledge of the older man's beliefs of the growing gap between purebloods and the Muggle-borns. She wasn't about to get fired for having a row with someone over something like that. There wouldn't be a point.

She rested one hand on her shapely hip and shook her head.

"It's just man troubles," she chose to say, keeping it as light as possible.

The older man sipped his juice and offered a nod.

"Aye, I reckoned it might be 'bout some daft bloke who doesn't realize what he has in ya."

Hermione offered a dimpled smile to hide her growing unrest about her situation with Ron.

"Well, at least someone does, right?"

The man chuckled and finished his juice.

"If you happen upon the right bloke, he'll appreciate you like you deserve."

He stood and Hermione offered him another genuine smile. The room around them had grown crowded with the usual morning rush and she knew she would have a busy day ahead of her.

"Thanks for the lovely chat," she told him as she handed him his pay slip. "But I've got to get back to work."

He put his money on the table and then slipped her a few extra galleons.

"The pleasure was all mine, to be sure. You're quite a lovely girl, Hermione. You take that and buy yourself something sparkly. Think of me when you do."

Hermione gripped the money in her palm, surprised at the amount. It felt cool against her warm skin. When he was gone, Apparating right outside of the doorstep, she looked down at the coins in her palm. Four, shiny Galleons lay there. Perhaps not enough for rent but more than enough for a full week's grocery. What had she really done to earn such a huge tip? She hadn't but refilled his juice once and grumbled about the sad state of her love life!

Buy yourself something sparkly; think of me when you do.

Certainly Hermione wasn't frivolous enough to even dream of spending that much money on something like jewelry. She would save it; she would put it away for a rainy day. Rainy days were more and more frequent, unfortunately. She knew that other witches, lucky enough to have a higher blood status, could spend that much money on sparkly bits and bobs but she couldn't.

Tucking the precious money deep into the front pocket of her apron, Hermione hurried back towards the kitchens, a smile on her face.

I feel like such a ninny writing this. Bloody hell, that's what a diary's for, isn't it? I just thought maybe if I jotted it down it might make sense. Or maybe I'm going barmy because I've been stuck at that sodding pub too long. God, I know it has got to do with Ron being such an arse lately. Whatever it is I've started to notice people who come into A Touch of Magic. Well, I suppose it's been a certain someone, actually. A certain, tall and dark someone. I've just discovered that he runs a business that is said to be top secret. God, aren't I supposed to be the know-it-all? I wonder if Ron knows of where he's gotten to; he'd be jealous if someone else were interested in me, I'm sure. I wonder if he's seeing someone? And why does he look so bloody familiar? I KNOW him...

Hermione saved the money her soon to be favorite patron had given her; she used it to pay her December's rent. Grateful that someone had appreciated her she struck up an at-first odd but then quite comfortable friendship with him. She found out his name was Basil O'Hare and that he was retired from the Department of Mysteries. She told him about her struggles to make ends meet and her inability to get into the University because of her blood status. Basil listened with sympathy but in the end he could do nothing to change her situation.

He helped her, however. Most mornings he left Hermione a tip large enough to help her pay rent. He never invited her out and seemed quite content with their daily chats. She was glad for it because having Ron as a boyfriend was difficult enough without having a blasted wandering eye.

Hermione felt a wave of guilt wash over her – a wave she was beginning to recognize as familiar.

This is happening more and more lately.

Yes, her eyes were wondering – perhaps not towards Basil but-

It was during one of her daily morning chats with Basil that Hermione finally learned the identity of her mystery man.

Hermione couldn't quite recall when she had first noticed him coming into the pub. Had it been four weeks ago, maybe five? With Christmas only a month away, the traffic for dinner had increased and most folks would stop in for a bite during their breaks from work and many of the students, including Luna, would pop in to eat in between lessons. Most folks would stop in to break up their holiday shopping.

Somewhere in that rush of wizarding humanity she had noticed him.

He would always be alone. He would always order food, wait for it while sipping a lager. When he paid he would always slide the money across the smooth countertop, making sure there was plenty of tip for her included. And Hermione had noticed no wedding ring on his large ring finger.

Not that she cared because she had convinced herself she loved Ron.

But does he love me?

The mystery man had a familiar face but Hermione couldn't place him - no matter how hard she tried. That didn't stop her from wondering about him.

"Don't you read the Prophet, girl?" Basil joked after Hermione told him about the mystery patron.

She flushed pink.

"Of course I do. I keep up with the news better than Ron who works for the Ministry," she commented while pouring another pumpkin juice and sliding it across the bar top towards Basil's smiling face. No one could miss the sudden touch of bitterness in her tone.

"Well, he's been all through the business section lately. Started up some venture he's keeping rather top secret."

Hermione quickly wiped his table so as to appear busy; this was their usual morning routine.

"Do you know what that's about? It can't be illegal, can it? Otherwise he wouldn't be much of a business man," she commented.

Basil shook his head.

"Only that it is very successful."

Hermione's eyes widened.

"Really? And no one in wizarding London knows about it?"

"Appears so," chuckled Basil. "Although I reckon the right people do know about it. Hence the success. He's rather well put together, isn't he?"

Hermione nodded. That part was true. She had noticed that beneath his long coat he would wear well-fitted jumpers that seemed to accentuate a well-muscled torso. She would admire while at the same time berating herself for being so shallow. Even thinking about it now made Hermione feel a rush of warmth.

"What's his name?" she wondered and Basil laughed at her sudden blush.

"I think he might have been in a different House than you though I do recall reading that he went to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry a few years ago. I read it in several articles. I believe Rita Skeeter interviewed him two years ago. Name's Nott."

Hermione gasped, forgetting her sudden rush of annoyance at the mention of Rita Skeeter.

"Theodore Nott?" she exclaimed.

"That'd be him."

Hermione was not surprised. That's why he had seemed so familiar! She had known of him in school; he had been the silent type but quite smart for being a hateful little Slytherin! She had never known him, really - he had been quiet and withdrawn, hardly speaking, never in a group...

She hadn't recognized him until that moment -and everything suddenly made sense.

Basil was smiling.

"You know him, I take it?"

Sort of, I suppose," she admitted looking around the busy pub. "But not well. Come to think of it I do remember that he got top marks in school and his father was a Death Eater. I wonder what he's doing eating at this crap pub."

"Hungry, I reckon," laughed Basil. "This place is no worse than the others. There's good food and lovely service," he complimented causing Hermione to offer up a dimpled grin.

She had gotten used to Basil's flirtatious ways. He never meant anything by his words but genuine compliments. She waved him off playfully.

"He's independently wealthy, isn't he? One would think he'd rather eat somewhere else."

"His family's from London though. It's Christmas, Hermione. I'm sure he's home to visit with them. I know his father remains in Azkaban but he has other relatives here."

Hermione considered this for a moment as she handed Basil his bill.

"I suppose you're right," she mused curiously. The older man laughed and the tipped her, offering a quick, jaunty salute before Apparating out of sight.

Hermione spent the remainder of the morning trying to keep up with the rush of witches and wizards that came through the doors of the pub. But soon the crowds slowed and she got a brief respite. She couldn't help but think about Theodore Nott, wondering how it was that she hadn't recognized him.

Gods, Hermione! You must be losing it.

As if her thoughts had summoned him, Theo came through the doors, bringing with him a flurry of snow and icy air. Hermione stood behind the bar, rag in hand, watching him.

Yes, it was him. She remembered him as a weedy, mousy-looking boy but time had done wonders for him. She thought of Harry for a split-second, recalling the private jokes between him and Ron, making fun of the Slytherins, of Draco Malfoy's bad attitude and Nott's strange, willowy build. There had been rumours that Theo's father had murdered his mother and that Theo had been a witness to it. People whispered about how Nott was strange – and not even the Slytherins wanted to spend time with him.

They had laughed over supper numerous times, joking about how Theo Nott looked like a girl.

It certainly was no longer true; Theodore Nott was-

She didn't realize she was staring until it was too late.

"Can I help you?"

His words were deep and resonated in a musical sort of way. Her cheeks grew warm when she realized he was speaking to her.

"P-pardon?"

"I said…can I help you?"

Hermione cocked her head, trying to judge his tone voice. It held a touch of amusement.

"I...aren't I supposed to be asking you that?"

"You are, but seeing as you've fallen into some sort of staring trance I thought I'd get the process started."

Hermione flushed red.

"I wasn't staring!"

Theo leaned on the counter so that they were nearly eye to eye. He smelled spicy - like cloves. She couldn't help noticing that his eyes were so, so dark she was having trouble not getting lost-

"Every day so far," he replied with a wink.

Hermione gasped.

"I suppose if that's true then you've clearly been staring at me."

Her words held challenge as she sat up straight to gaze at him without hesitating. Theo offered her a smile that revealed a slight dimple in one cheek.

"I never said I haven't been, did I?"

Hermione stopped, flustered. Having dated only Ron and having never been comfortable with the advances of the opposite sex, she wasn't sure how to take his flirtation though she grew warm at his subtle compliment. Grabbing her wand she began to wipe the tables around the bar quickly.

"No, you didn't and I suppose that makes us even," she said with hesitation.

Am I flirting with someone else besides Ronald?

The thought intrigued her and Hermione turned.

"Will you be having your usual?"

"Indeed," replied Theo, casually sliding onto one of the stools by the bar and watching her with interest. She felt suddenly shy but at the same time pleased because she could tell he was enjoying what he saw.

Oh, sod it all! Why shouldn't I flirt with someone else?

Emboldened by his subtle interest Hermione grinned at him.

"Say, what are you doing next week end? Fancy getting a bite with me somewhere besides this pub?"

Theo sat up, a look of surprise lighting up his dark eyes.

"My, my…you are brazen. Do I know you?"

Hermione was blushing furiously at the smile on his face. Would he say yes? Had she really just asked him out? Balls, what had she been thinking?!

"I'm-I was Harry Potter's best friend."

Hermione caught herself; she sometimes still forgot that Harry was gone. Theo sat up and gazed at her intently.

"Bloody piss," he commented shaking his head and she felt him scrutinizing her, as if she were an expensive, complicated piece of art. Neither spoke for a few, silent moments and when he did, Theo hesitated slightly.

"I didn't recognize you at first."

"And I didn't recognize you until this morning after a friend pointed it out."

She began to work at organizing the salt and pepper shakers on the table, overly focused on her menial task. "I suppose now you'll call me a filthy Mudblood and be on your way?"

She said the words with more venom than she had intended and when Theo said nothing in reply, she looked up. He was grinning and Hermione found once again that she was mesmerized by the depth of his gaze.

"You've got balls, Granger."

She blinked, bewildered and he continued.

"First you ask me out, not knowing anything about me and then you have the gall to assume how I will act?"

He leaned across the bar top casually.

"Did you happen to know that the only person who gives a bloody damn about blood status anymore is our sodding Minister?"

Hermione bristled at his comment.

"Really? Well, that sounds like rubbish to me because here I am, working at this sodding pile of piss pub when I should be going to school! I am a brilliant witch and it's a travesty that the only reason I can't do what I want is because I'm Muggle-born! So you can stop feeding me your silly line of troll dung because you wouldn't understand. You're a pureblood!"

Theo had stood during Hermione's tirade, the look on his face both of amusement and concern.

"You have such passion," he stated.

Hermione offered him an insolent glare to which he grinned.

"I suppose you've changed your mind about asking me to supper then?"

She turned pink and her mouth opened but nothing came out. Before Hermione could recover, her boss emerged from the kitchens in the back, carrying Theo's order.

"There you go, dearie."

"Much obliged, Ma'am."

He offered the older woman a smile so sweet Hermione was certain it would rot anyone's teeth. It was giving her a headache, at least.

"Back to work, Hermione!" the woman called out. "You know what they say about idle hands! We've got the supper rush coming soon!"

She disappeared the way she had come, leaving Hermione sullenly silent and Theo grinning as he slid several Galleons across the table.

"What is it that they say about idle hands, Hermione Granger?"

She rolled her eyes.

"They're the tool of the Devil," she muttered with an eye roll. "And my boss is a slave driver."

Theo watched her with a hesitation that made Hermione think he would say something else. Something flickered across his thin, almost delicate features but she was unable to analyze it before it was gone.

"Well, I'd imagine that there are plenty of things you and I could do with your...idle hands. Unfortunately, it won't be this week end."

He grabbed his food and then offered her a wink.

"Not to mention that you're dating a Weasley. This speaks quite bad things about your taste in men."

Hermione gasped, speechless as she watched him disappear through the small entryway before Apparating away in a blink of an eye.

Not to mention that you're dating a Weasley...

"How?" she asked to no one. "How did he know?"

She felt hot and bothered; she felt icy-cold. She wasn't sure what had just happened. She stared after Theo Nott, both curious and bewildered.