Legal: I own nothing, it's all J.K. Rowling's.
Chapter 6
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The library was all but deserted when Hermione arrived at the massive double doors carved in intricate details harkening back to the gothic era at ten to eight that evening. Passing by a few tables occupied by students — packing their belongings to head back before curfew — on her way to the rear of the cavernous room, Hermione couldn't help chuckling to herself as she realized that in all the years she'd attended Hogwarts, not once had she ever been in the library on the evening of their first day of classes. Second day, yes, but this was definitely a first. And she definitely hadn't sauntered down the center of the library, bold as brass, ten minutes before curfew.
She arrived to where the history section was housed, stacks upon stacks of books that bore no evidence of movement for decades — maybe longer — tucked away in a dusty corner of the library that was devoid of any interest whatsoever by the majority of the student body.
The stacks that contained the books on the Troll Wars were toward the last of the rows, near an alcove featuring two oversized windows, their panes cobwebbed and time worn with grime. It was apparent that no one had made their way down to this section for a lengthy amount of time, as a thick layer of dust blanketed the tables. There were only two of them, situated directly under the windows — each with their own desk lantern and dilapidated wooden chairs — and out of habit born after years of friendship with Ron the arachnophobe, she vanished first the evidence of spiders, then all the grime and dust before lighting the lantern and commandeering the table with the most direct view of entry into the alcove. Setting her book bag down upon the now dust-free tabletop, she chose the chair that would allow her to sit with her back to the wall and all points of entry covered.
Souvenirs of war; paranoia and constant vigilance.
She'd never previously felt uneasy in the vast expanse of the library, with its oppressively tall shelves casting dancing shadows upon the hardwood floor; even alone and close to curfew she'd never been unnerved.
This was her sanctuary, her place of solace.
But things change. She'd, changed.
A noise had her angling her head toward where she'd entered the alcove moments before, and it was seconds later that the silhouette of Theo appeared, illuminated from behind by the glow of multiple desk lanterns, making his body glow with a fuzzy halo.
He froze upon seeing her, so slightly she could have imagined it save for the flicker of surprise that momentarily skittered across his brow before his face curved into what she could only describe as supreme satisfaction and he continued forward.
"Granger," he said politely, the timber of his voice making her stomach dance at its husky cadence.
"Nott," she replied with a small, welcoming smile, gesturing to the empty seat across from her. He wasted no time in depositing his lanky frame with effortless grace, his long legs stretched out in front of him under the table; the toe of his shoe nudging one of her own before it retreated.
"I wasn't sure if you'd show," he said simply, his arctic gaze staring at her as if she were a knot to be unraveled. She appreciated he didn't insult either of their intelligence by suggesting she wouldn't have known with whom she'd be meeting.
"Why wouldn't I?" She asked, genuinely curious. It was true they weren't friends, not even proper acquaintances as there had never been any acknowledgment between them outside the classroom; however, he'd pleasantly surprised her this morning when he'd silently sought out her partnership for the final project, and with her acceptance, surely he realized that meant they'd have to actually… meet.
He shrugged but didn't answer, instead bent to pull out his own note book from his bag and set it down alongside his quill and ink on the table between them.
'Did I misread his intent this morning? Was he not inferring a partnership? Was there something else he wanted to meet for?…'
Her mind began to race through possible scenarios and her perpetual self-esteem issues began to ascend and cloud over her earlier anticipation, sure now she'd blundered her first attempt at 'branching out' socially and he'd dismiss her for misunderstanding. She worried at her lip nervously, waiting on his answer.
Silence stretched between them, the absence of sound only broken by the wet slide of lip through teeth as Hermione worried her bottom lip.
"What's bothering you?" He asked softly, inquisitively, leaning forward to rest his forearms on the table, palms face down upon the wooden surface.
He'd removed his cloak after classes and his sweater and pressed white dress shirt underneath were on full display. He'd pushed up the sleeves of his sweater and rolled the arms of the dress shirt so the cuffs now rested open and folded neatly above his elbows. He'd also removed the tie and Hermione noticed he'd unbuttoned the top two buttons and had splayed the collar open, just enough for her to glimpse the shadowed hollow between the junction of his clavicle bones.
The sight of that hollow, coupled with the lean strands of tendon and muscle that flexed when he moved his arms made Hermione salivate.
She'd never seen him looking anything but properly put together in appearance. To see his school uniform worn in stages of deconstruction, well, he pulled off the casually disheveled look with an elegance Ron had never been able to manage. Instead of sloppy and haphazard, Theo appeared relaxed and almost… cozy.
Confident in his disarray.
Moving her eyes back to the triangle of exposed flesh below his jaw, she could picture dipping her tongue into that void just under his jawline, tasting him. Could imagine those arms, wrapping themselves around her, holding her…
"Erm, sorry, I didn't quite catch that." She murmured, embarrassed to realize he'd repeated his original question once already and was now regarding her with pensive amusement as he asked her his question yet again.
"I asked, what's bothering you Granger?"
She blinked, realizing she was still nawing on her lip — but now for an entirely different reason — and fidgeting her fingers under the table.
"Nothing's wrong," she said automatically, refusing to meet his eyes for fear he'd read too much from them.
"Riiiiiight…" Theo drawled on an exhale, disappointment infusing each drawn out letter. She raised her gaze to find his piercing eyes appraising her shrewdly before he announced, "well then, if you're so opposed to being my partner, I should probably leave now, so I can hope to find someone as near suited."
"I'm not opposed!" Hermione blurted out, releasing her lip from between her teeth with a wet 'pop' and sitting up straighter.
"Beg pardon?" He asked, eyebrow raised in a fashion of aristocratic disbelief.
"I said, I'm not opposed," Hermione said, calmer and with better pronunciation.
"Then what's troubling you? Your face changed the moment I sat down — in not a pleasant way mind — and you were working your lip something fierce." She could see his brow furrow slightly.
'Here goes nothing' she thought.
"When you mentioned your surprise at me showing, I thought…". Hermione broke off and shook her head as a flush warmed her cheeks.
"Never mind that. I realize now I was mistaken." She gave a rueful sort of grin, shrugging her shoulder.
Theo blinked a couple times, before a slow smile full of genuine mirth spread across his lips; parting them to expose a set of white, almost perfectly aligned teeth. As the daughter of dentists, she immediately zeroed in on the slight overlap between the front bottom two, but rather than appear off-putting, she found the quirk endearing.
She was impressed with the near perfection of his smile, as she knew most wizards didn't understand muggle dentistry nor have an equivalent profession, and as such many of the wizarding population had mouths filled with teeth that left a lot to be desired.
Not Theo though.
'Nott, Theo.' She gave an inner snort at her own pun.
"You thought you'd misinterpreted, didn't you? That I'd either baited you, or asked you here for something other than possibly wanting to confirm and ensure that yes, the smartest witch of our year wished to partner with me?"
She thought about the monologue that had rambled through her mind moments before, 'It's just… you see, I miss my friends. I miss Harry, and Ron. This is our first time being majorly separated and I had promised myself, and them, that I'd make an effort get to know others in the school, regardless of house or history. And this morning, I thought you were motioning and asking to be partners for the project, and I was relieved because with you I won't have to do all the work as you're just as smart as I am and you're not lazy, at least not that I've noticed and when you dropped the note into my bag earlier I was looking forward to meeting you, as we've never really spoken but you seem an alright sort, at least, you've never been cruel to me or my friends, and then when you came you were so surprised to see me… it made me doubt my understanding of our interaction this morning in the great hall, and then maybe you meant the note for someone else… and I was disappointed….'
There was no way she was letting those thoughts out of her mouth and into actual words.
"Something like that," she muttered, a trifle vexed that she was so transparent to him.
"You're not transparent," he said, and she gapped at him, "That's just what I would be thinking if roles were reversed…"
He paused then said, "I actually just wanted to meet to make sure you hadn't come to your senses and found a more, shall I say, suitable partner. One that won't make others question your sanity. Because you'd have to have lost yours to willingly partner with me."
He said it like a statement, like fact. It wasn't a question, and though she was loath to pander to ego, she answered him anyways.
"Well that's just a load of nonsense. You're at the top of our year in marks save for myself and Malfoy, and I think between the two of us we'll be able to come up with a project that will be both groundbreaking and unique. We haven't had a chance to properly work together despite sharing classes, and I'm looking forward to us getting to know each other."
She didn't think it pertinent to mention that she was now also really looking forward to spending time in his presence, a presence which was quickly turning into a distraction of epic proportions for her.
Theo stared at her a bit incredulously before replying sardonically, "I'm a Slytherin — which to you Gryffindor lot is synonymous with evil — have a Death Eater for a father, one that has actually tried to injure you personally, not just theoretically. I can conjure up a variety of different reasons without even trying as to why you wouldn't have come… yet here you sit, welcoming me with smiles and offers of scholastic intrigue …" He broke off, shaking his head in almost warm befuddlement before continuing softly, eyes downcast to look at his clasped hands upon the table, "You should hate me, Granger, or at the very least, fear being near me."
She snorted at that and crossed her arms across her chest. The loudness of the inelegant sound was like canon fire in the still quietness of their alcove, and his eyes whipped up to catch and hold with hers at the sound.
"I'm sorry, Nott, but you'll be holding your breath if you think I fear you. Believe me when I say, my boggart would not be in your form." Her hand twitched under the table toward her left arm, where she could swear she felt the scar that lay under her shirt there burn.
"And you may be from the house of snakes," she continued, "but you're not exactly Kaa."
"Trussssst meeee," he hissed, drawing out his 's's and at that sound all at once her mind flashed back to Godrics Hollow and the reanimated corpse of Bathilda Bagshot. Her chest tightened and she felt all the warmth leave her, though gave no outward indication of her internal panic.
'Clamp it down, Hermione. Lock it away. Not here.' Instead of succumbing to the memory and the physical manifestations her panic would assume lest she give it legs, she wrenched herself back to the present and focused on the captivating wizard in front of her.
"You know the reference?" Hermione gasped. She was surprised, as she didn't expect a wizard, let alone one raised in the house of a blood purist to know about muggle literature, nor understand an offhand reference to a background character.
He hadn't seemed to notice her momentary reaction at hearing his 'snake hiss', and seemed genuinely amused for a moment at having surprised her. The brightening of his eyes was short lived, however, before she visibly witnessed the shutters dropping back down. He gave a short derisive laugh and said in his typically clipped manner, annunciations crisp and proper, "If I were Kaa, if I were to hypnotize you, Hermione, bend your will to cage and keep you, I doubt you'd see it coming or even be aware enough to resist it…"
She looked at him — truly regarded him — taking in every detail and nuance about him in that moment. To hear her first name fall so freely from his lips, the first time he'd ever called her by it, made her feel all squiggly and warm inside.
She wanted to hear him say it again.
Silence stretched for what felt like ages as she perused him, before she straightened in her chair once more and addressed the big hippogriff in the room.
"You're right about one thing, Theodore Nott. I wouldn't see it coming, but only because it would be an action by you I'd never ever expect. We don't know enough about each other to make broad claims, but after observing you over the years, I'm quite convinced you are not as you'd wish others to believe you to be."
An eyebrow flicked at that, but otherwise he made no response or resection to her words.
"Let me ask you one question, the only question that matters."
He tensed but nodded his acquiesce for her to continue.
"Do you believe in the whole blood purity nonsense? That I'm below you, because I'm a muggleborn? A mudblood?"
He flinched at the word, and spat, "Don't use that word, it's vile and fundamentally untrue."
It was her turn to raise her eyebrows.
"No, I don't believe you're inferior, because of your blood or otherwise; nor do I think your blood's 'muddy' or contaminated. That concept's just absurd…" He paused, then said in a rush, "I do, however, take issue with Wizarding customs and traditions becoming obsolete or watered down — some of them at least — by those who are not given the proper induction and opportunity to learn our societal ways — such as muggleborns — because those of us in positions to offer the knowledge don't or won't. But that is an educational and cultural issue, not one about blood or superiority."
She kept silent at his revelations, wanting to think over his words more. Ron would be completely gobsmacked at her not charging ahead with an opinion, as she'd been want to do in the past. She realized, however, she didn't know enough about that which he spoke to comment at this time, but made note to do research into his claims of societal ignorance of inducted muggleborns.
"Well alright then," was what she said instead. "Fair enough."
Tentatively, she moved her hand so it was resting near his on the table, almost as if she was afraid he'd spook if she moved to close or quickly but wanting to show him tangibly how unafraid of him she truly was.
"Now to the rest of your points. Yes, you have a father who I'm greatly relieved will be spending his life rotting behind bars, paying for the atrocities he committed over the years. He represents everything I fought against, and everything I am is detestable, abhorrent to him. There would be no breaking that stalemate."
"No, I can't ever picture you and father seeing eye to eye on anything, let alone one of you surviving an encounter in a closed room."
"I can hold my own, I've done it before against his lot."she snapped, stung.
"You misunderstand me, Granger, I didn't mean you'd be at the disadvantage. I believe he'd be the one to fall, as he likes to underestimated that which he considers prey. And you're no prey."
She inwardly preened at his compliment while sighing resignedly that he was back to using surnames, though knowing how the aristocracy were, utilizing given names was highly unusual upon first acquaintance. Even a tad gauche.
And Theo was anything but gauche, at least by her estimation. He always appeared so contained, so ridgidly composed that his slip moments before showed her — more than anything else — how nervous the conversation was making him.
She continued, "Yes, you are a Slytherin, I am a Gryffindor; however, we aren't constrained to live by what our house traits dictate us to be, and it's a good thing, because I really don't give a flying fig about what others think about me. Nor spend my time worrying about idle gossip, so if anyone questions who I choose to associate with, that's not something I expenditure energy caring about."
He snorted and raised an eyebrow, twisting his lips into a snarl of disgust that surprised her. Made her… saddened.
"Yes well, when your father is like mine, your house traits and the friends you cultivate are the only ones that matter, as does idle gossip and reputations."
"Good thing he's not around anymore then," she smirked defiantly, and was pleased to see his lips mirror the smirk back.
"Quite." He replied, and nudged her hand — his pinky sliding ever so gently against hers — before removing his hands from the tabletop and opening his notebook.
"So, partners?" She confirmed, holding out her hand for him to shake.
He took it without hesitation, and in that moment she knew blood really didn't matter to him.
"Partners," he said, and made as if to push his glasses back up his nose. Only, he wasn't wearing glasses; his hand movement becoming an awkward swipe up to push aside an errant strand of hair that'd fallen over his brow instead. He smiled a bit sheepishly, and she was heartened to notice a weight appeared to have been lifted off his shoulders. She realized with a start, one had.
The self doubt, over her becoming his partner — worry that she'd regret their association — was gone.
"So, partner mine." He said, reclining in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest in affected contemplation. The look he was giving her was positively devilish, and she felt the slow burn of anticipation begin to reignite. "I'm beyond intrigued… care to elaborate on how you've been observing me for years?"
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A/N: thank you for all who've reviewed, followed or favorited this story! I'm glad you're enjoying it. I'll be posting a fancast on tumblr soon for this story. My Tumblr handle is: gidgit2you.