It's a bit of a mid chapter. Had loads of potential before I actually started writing it, but then I got a bit bored, and a bit stuck so I ended up producing something a bit boring, lol.
Chapter Four: Singing Sweet
"He's well fit."
And if Theodore choked on nothing but thin air, well, he wouldn't ever say.
The two of them were walking through the grounds, towards the great lake. A large wooden ship blocked the view of the castle, giving them the perfect place to hide, according to the girl beside him.
No one would see them, apparently, and they could go there anytime. Rather convenient since there wasn't any quidditch this year, thanks to the stupid Triwizard tournament.
The one time he wanted to take part in something, it was bloody age-restricted. Surely it couldn't be that hard. His father had thought him capable of completing the challenges, which rarely ever happened.
Theodore followed Lavender's gaze to the large ship, basking under the setting sun.
"No he isn't," he said.
"But his arms, Theo," said Lavender, "and his legs."
"You're just naming body parts now," he said, rolling his eyes.
Lavender glanced at him. "They're very fit body parts."
"Are they?"
He looked like a normal bloke to Theo, nothing special. And yet the majority of the Hogwarts population seemed to be intent on dousing him with Amortentia.
"You wouldn't get it," she said, her lips curving into a smirk. "There was an instant connection between us."
"You mean when he walked through the Great Hall, and you ogled at him and he didn't even look back at you?"
"Do you have to be such a pessimist?" she said, nudging his shoulder. "Just watch Theo, I'll have him wrapped around my finger in no time."
"Have you forgotten about the part where you're a fourteen-year-old schoolgirl?"
"True love has no boundaries."
"It might be illegal?"
Lavender winked at him, before leaning against the Durmstrang ship. Her eyes shone with mirth, her hand trailing down the side of her neck.
"Rules are there to be broken," she said, her voice low.
"You Gryffindors are idiots."
Lavender's smirk widened. "And you Slytherins are crap with jokes." Her smile became sickly sweet. "It must be a pureblood thing, I suppose."
"You're a pureblood as well," he said pointedly, taking a seat on the floor.
"Not a proper one, though. I'm not as pure as you."
"I never took you for someone who cared about this sort of stuff," he said, running his hand through the dewy grass. Wet, green blades stuck to his fingers, mixed in with bits of dirt.
Lavender shook her head. "I don't. But your type do, don't they?"
"My type?" He arched a brow.
"The oh-so-noble and sacred twenty-eight thing you have going on," she said.
"It's not my fault I was born into one of them families."
'One of them families'. Did two people and one owl even count as a family?
"I know that," she said, "but surely you've been brought up believing you're better than the rest of us."
It was true, in a sense. Both his parents had raised him as the perfect pureblood, as a boy who was better than the average wizard. But he had been taught to believe the Nott's were better than everyone.
The Malfoys, Rosiers, Greengrasses and even the recently extinct Blacks. They were all a distant second to Notts.
Of course, Theodore wasn't an idiot. If the Notts really were so much better than the rest of them, it didn't explain why his father was always telling him to do better. There was no way to perfect perfection.
But he also wasn't oblivious to the things going on around him. He wasn't perfect. He was bang average on a broom. In fact, he was merely average at most things.
He certainly wasn't the best at anything. He never had been. As far as he knew, his father hadn't been particularly skillful either.
Theodore had stopped believing the lies after a rather eventful dinner at the Greengrasses when he was eight. It was the first time he'd left Nott Manor, it was the first time he'd seen a garden. It was the first time he'd talked to kids his own age. It was the first time he had fun.
"And you're taught about predicting the future using tea leaves by a hippie fraudster," he said, rubbing his wet hand on his robes. "Doesn't mean any of the stuff is true."
"That's mean," she said, narrowing her eyes at him. "She's a good teacher."
"You might be the only person in the world to believe that."
"She said I had a future filled with roses," Lavender said, shrugging. "Krum doesn't strike me as the sort of bloke to hand out roses though."
He rolled his eyes. "Bet Longbottom does though. I can pass the word on to him."
"Why are you like this?" she said.
"At least I'm not stuck in a deluded fantasy where I've convinced myself an international quidditch player's in love with me."
"I actually hate you."
Theodore was worried the girl was going to barrel straight into him, head first. And whilst he didn't consider side-stepping (well, he didn't mull over the idea for more than a second, or two), he found he didn't need to.
Lavender skidded to a stop about a meter before him, mud and grass flying into the air. A few specks littered his robes, because, of course, Lavender would want him to be interrogated once he returned to the Slytherin common room.
A red and gold scarf hung loosely around her neck, her cheeks pink.
"Is it true the ditsy Durmstrang brunette -" She took a series of ragged breaths. "-asked you to the Yule Ball?"
"That's what your emergency was?"
A part of him was tempted to burn the letter this very instant. There was really no need to give him a mini heart attack. He'd sprinted out of the common room giving Blaise a half-arsed excuse, for this?
"Is it true?" she asked sharply.
"No," he said slowly, his brows furrowing.
Lavender let out a breathless laugh. "You're such a bad liar, Theodore."
"So what if she did?" he asked tightly.
"Because I'm worried about my friend?" she said.
"And why on earth is this a cause for concern?"
"Because you said no," she said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Which idiot says no to a very, very pretty girl?"
"She's not that pretty," he said, tapping his thigh.
Lavender arched a brow, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Personally, I would've ditched my date if someone like that asked me to the dance."
"Not very loyal for a Gryffindor, are you?" His mouth tugged at the corners, threatening to break out into a smirk. He jabbed his index finger into his knee, pain shooting through his leg.
"Yet you're abnormally loyal for a Slytherin," she said. "Greengrass, really?"
What was wrong with Daphne? She was perfectly nice, and she wasn't not pretty, and she was his friend.
"Erm, yeah," he said, rubbing his neck. "We sort of just agreed to go together."
Isn't that how things were supposed to happen? Or was he missing something?
"You just agreed to go together?"
Theodore nodded. "Did I do something wrong?"
"So you didn't march up to Greengrass in your common room, and ask her to go to the ball with you?" Her eyes became sceptical. "Or you didn't shove her into an alcove to ask her in secret?"
What on earth was wrong with her? He wasn't a deranged psychopath. Gryffindors on the other hand, were by definition deranged.
"Which of those methods did you use on Finnigan?" he asked.
"Neither," she said, a faint blush working its way to her cheeks, "he asked me."
At first, he was convinced he'd misheard her. Surely Lavender Brown, wouldn't say yes to bloody Finnigan of all people. Lavender who was so... well, just Lavender, with Finnigan who couldn't go a single lesson without covering himself in char and soot.
It hurt his head to even think about it.
"You really weren't the one to ask him?"
She shook her head. "I was just as shocked as you."
She wore a smile as she spoke, soft and innocent. Not at all like the smirks and smug looks she usually wore.
"And you said 'yes'? To him?"
"Of course I did," she said, her hand dropping from his shoulder. "I wasn't going to sit around and wait for a miracle."
"Krum has divine status now, does he?"
Lavender rolled her eyes, as her hand played with the loose scarlet threads of her scarf. It tugged at her neck, the knot threatening to become undone.
"Say if I wasn't a Gryffindor," Lavender began slowly, "would you have asked me to the ball?"
He'd be lying if he said the question didn't catch him off guard. Stupid Gryffindors and their incessant need to be so spontaneous.
"I dunno," he shrugged. What on earth was he even supposed to say to that? "Would you ask me to the Yule Ball if I wasn't a Slytherin?"
It probably wasn't the best way to answer a question. With another, well... question.
But now that he thought about it, it simply never occurred to him to ask her, irrespective of her house. Though most of that was down to Lavender having a date as soon as the Yule Ball was announced. She'd been off-limits the whole time, so it wasn't like she was ever an option.
But even if she hadn't had someone to go with, he's not sure it'd be her Gryffindorness stopping him. She'd more than likely reject him, and yeah, he'd rather not risk a hit to his self-esteem.
And based on this, clearly, he wasn't a viable option for her because of their houses. And apparently, she didn't even believe in the house bigotry nonsense.
"Fair enough," she said, her hand trailing through the ends of her hair.
He wasn't quite sure what that was supposed to mean. And he was no in no rush to find out either.
Though it wasn't like he'd be put out if she'd said no. Of course not, he had no reason to be upset over something so trivial. They were friends, after all.
And then,
"I still can't believe you said no to an older girl just because of a friend."
Actually, he'd have made sure to embarrass the girl in front of the school had she dared to ask him to the Yule Ball. She would've done the same to him – probably.
He hoped the withering glare he sent conveyed that exact message.
Lavender's grin said otherwise.
Daphne was pretty, there was no doubt about it. In the violet dress, she was positively beautiful. With her dark hair pinned up, a few stray locks falling over her shoulders, stark against her exposed skin. Her sequins gleamed brightly under the starlit ceiling, like flecks of gold dust in a purple desert.
Hundreds of others danced around them, teachers, students and ministry members alike. Even Professor Dumbledore had joined in, and despite earlier bets in the common room, he wasn't that bad. A bit of belief went a long way – and that'd be twenty galleons from both Goyle and Draco. Served them right for doubting a teacher.
Theodore jerked away from Daphne, the dark sole of his shoes staining the polished wood.
"Theo," she gasped, stumbling forward, her hand still in his.
He smiled sheepishly, tugging her hand sharply, and took a quick sidestep to his left, bringing her in towards him. She placed a hand on his right arm, resting gently on his robes.
"What was that for?"
"I got bored," he said, shrugging lightly. "Sorry?"
"Don't bloody apologise," she said. "I hate waltzing about."
"Foxtrot?"
After all, they were purebloods. And what were purebloods if not cultured in the art of dance?
Daphne bit her lip, but her grin shone through nonetheless.
In a ballroom full of waltzers, the two of them certainly garnered a lot of attention. Most of it from their fellow Slytherins. Fortunately, no one else seemed to care. Unfortunately, there seemed to be a lot of Slytherins.
There hadn't been that many a few moments ago. Theodore could've sworn it was just them two along with Blaise and Tracey.
"Have you got a problem Pansy?" hissed Daphne, as the two of them sidestepped towards her.
The girl held a drink in one hand, the glass half-empty as she twirled it languidly between her fingers; the sparkling liquid sloshed around, shreds of mint sticking to the inside of the glass. Her gaze was fixed on the two of them, following their every – his every – movement.
She inclined her head to one side. "No," she said slowly. "But your dear Theo might."
"What are you talking about?"
Of course, it was supposed to be a rhetorical question, but his fellow Slytherin wouldn't disappoint. Of course not. Why would she?
Pansy raised her glass up – no – forwards. She angled it – the pale liquid flowing up the glass, swallowing the dark mint – pointing it towards something.
He turned around, following the line of her glass. Straight towards Lavender – who was dancing with Seamus. Smiling at him. Laughing with him.
Theodore's grip on Daphne's hand tightened.
"Is everything alright?"
Blaise's voice was cold, as he stepped towards them, glaring at Pansy.
"Of course," she said, her mouth curling into a lazy smirk. "I thought-" Her gaze wandered back to Lavender. "-Never mind. I must be seeing things."
Her smirk, however, seemed to widen.
"Don't be an arse, Pansy," said Daphne. "Can't you go back to terrorizing Draco?"
The three of them were only deemed worthy of a half-hearted shrug. Blaise threw Pansy a disdained look, and the girl rolled her eyes. She turned away and placed a hand on the shoulder of her next victim. The Durmstrang students wouldn't look back to their time at Hogwarts with any fondness, not if Pansy had her way.
"My feet hurt," complained Blaise as the three of them made their way over to the side.
"Is that why you've abandoned Tracey?" he asked, raising a brow.
Daphne gestured towards the middle of the dance floor. "I don't Blaise did the abandoning."
Tracey Davies danced with a rather handsome boy from Beauxbatons. Where the boy couldn't look away from Tracey, the girl's eyes darted to and fro, her steps frantic.
"The nerve of that guy," said Blaise, glowering at the pair, "said he needed to dance with Tracey at once. He promised it would only be one dance." He looked back toward Theodore and Daphne. "That was half an hour ago."
"Poor Blaise," said Daphne, rolling her eyes. "How ever will you recover?" She leant into Theodore's shoulder. "Tops twenty minutes before he finds himself in a broom cupboard with a completely different girl."
"I'm right here, you know," he huffed.
"I'm perfectly aware," said Daphne, the words brimming with boundless delight. Or was it just smugness?
Theodore let go of Daphne's hand, taking a step back.
"I'm famished," he said. "Why don't you two dance, while I grab something for us."
Daphne muttered in agreement and began sorting out the small bow in the middle of her dress.
It was then Theodore risked a glance towards Lavender. She wore a deep crimson dress, the hem laced with gold. Her flaxen hair fell down to her waist, loose from its usual curls. He'd never realised her hair was that long. Friends were supposed to know this sort of stuff, regardless of the amount of sleekeazy's someone used.
She looked Princess-y. He doesn't think he's ever seen a princess, and he was absolutely confident princess-y wasn't a word, but she looked more than just majestic.
His heart lurched as she glanced at him, her cheeks flushed pink. She might've smiled at him, but the distance was too great. She might not even be looking at him, but rather at something behind him. Nevertheless, he felt his own mouth tug at the corners.
He had this sudden urge to march over to her, and well... he wasn't sure what he'd do after that. Maybe he just wanted to see her up close; were her eyes shining brightly to go with her smile, or were they dark, and bitter like coffee at the choice of music so untactfully chosen?
And then she looked away, going back to Finnigan, and leaning down to whisper something in the boy's ear. A hand clapped down on Theodore's shoulder, and he whirled around: face burning, and jaw clenched.
Blaise arched a brow, nodding towards Lavender. Theodore's heart skipped a beat.
"How about I get the food?" Blaise asked lightly.
"What?" he choked, the word barely leaving his throat.
"You can dance with Daphne," he said, "you seemed to be enjoying it earlier."
He shook his head quickly. "It's fine. I'll go." He barely managed a step before Blaise pulled him back.
"I insist," said Blaise. "Look, Daph's done faffing about with her dress thing."
And with that Blaise nudged Theodore towards Daphne, before marching off in the direction where Lavender sat.
Except he didn't. Instead, he went to a small table which was near the Gryffindor assorted with dozens of different canapés. Sliced cucumbers topped with caviar, and cubes of pastry stuffed with baked apples, all of which were surrounded by miniature cups of butterbeer.
A sigh of relief escaped him. Blaise was far too engrossed in the table to even notice Lavender.
"You okay there?" asked Daphne.
"Oh yeah." He threw her a smile. "Never been better."
Thanks for reading. I promise (I hope) next week's chapter is going to be better.
