Theo Nott was nervous, mopping his hairline with a kerchief as his eyes flicked toward the door for perhaps the hundredth time this morning. She could be here at any time, since Draco hadn't set her a schedule.
Calm down, he told himself. You don't have to do anything today. Just get used to the idea first.
He had yet to tell his father Granger would be joining him at work, fearing the old man would insist on immediate action. That would be foolish; it would undoubtedly fall on him when she came up missing if she had only just started working with him.
Theo understood, but he was still hesitant in acting on his father's wishes in this regard. Muggleborn or not, he'd gone to school with Granger. He wasn't even truly a pureblood supremacist (nor, if he understood correctly, was his father, despite being the son of the Cantankerous Nott).
But he was loyal. That was a Nott trait through and through. And Antonin Dolohov was one of his father's oldest friends, one to whom he owed a great debt. The combination was enough pressure that Theo knew he was fighting the inevitable.
He sighed, marking down something in the ledger open before him, and glanced at the door again. As though his returning gaze had summoned her, it swung open and revealed the object of his consideration.
Hermione Granger had filled out a little since the last time he'd seen her, though that was hardly saying much, as she was still slim enough there were hollows beneath her cheekbones. Her eyes were as bright as candlelight in a dark hall, pulled back curls longer and lanker than he had ever seen before, though still far from tame. She wore a long, loose robe open over trousers and jumper, and carried a little beaded bag as though it were a lifeline.
"Hello, Granger." He tried for cordial, a wan smile flitting across his face.
She slipped into the desk across from his own seat and nodded. "Hello, Nott."
"You look well."
"As do you. So, is that your research?" Theo nodded and slid the parchment filled with his own neat handwriting across the surface for her to peruse. After a moment, she pulled a muggle pen and notebook from the purse and set to work copying down segments. "Have you double-checked any of these numbers?"
"Not yet." She must have had extensive charm work on the purse for so much to fit inside, as the notebook was nearly as wide as Granger's forearm. It was impressive, and he wondered what else she had stashed away. "I wanted to finish the initial sequence first, then I was planning to go back and rerun the data."
She hummed, then fell into silence.
They worked for hours like that, the only noise was their little movements, hushing clothing, scratching quills, and shuffling papers. Many would have felt uncomfortable in such quiet, but Granger was like him when it came to academia. She could become absorbed in running equations or translations or texts, didn't feel the need to interrupt with useless conversation. It was something he'd always appreciated about her.
She was pretty, too.
Once upon a time, Theo had harbored a crush on the Gryffindor, but he'd long ago eschewed the silly feelings that he could never act upon. H'd wondered over the years how many others shared the regard, certain that Draco was among them. Blaise Zabini liked nearly anything on two legs, and he'd overheard many a Ravenclaw express interest when they thought no one was listening.
He studied her as covertly as he could from his seat across from the girl, noting a love bite on her throat peeking out just above the collar of her robe.
Didn't Draco mention something about talking to his father when he visited Granger? Is she with Lucius Malfoy?
That was rather uncomfortable. He was aware of Dolohov's obsession with Granger, and knew the crazed man was even older than the senior Malfoy, but it was still bizarre to think that his friend's father might be involved with her, especially one who had always seemed adamant about maintaining pureblood supremacy.
He wondered how Draco felt about the possible association.
It's nearly as strange as finding out my own father had an interest in her , he thought, though that would be impossible given his father's… preferences.
All too soon, Granger was packing up for the day with promises that she would return soon. Relief and anxiety flitted through him in equal measure when she took her leave.
He neatened up his area not long after, then apparated outside Azkaban. It was time to let his father know about the situation.
The letter came via sparrowhawk, lighting on the windowsill and tapping a hard beak against the bespelled glass to get his attention. Antonin welcomed the raptor inside, setting aside some of his bloody venison for it to enjoy as he unravelled the parchment.
It seemed his contacts had gotten news about his sweet lioness, to include confirmation she was indeed with Lucius Malfoy. The implication that it was in more ways than one had him gripping the parchment until it began to tear in his first.
Antonin took a calming breath and smoothed it beneath his hand. He would need to keep a cool head if he wanted to get her back. There were wards to get past, rituals to prepare, and Malfoys to murder.
