Legal: I Own Nothing.

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Chapter 8

oOo-xXx-oOo

"What's this?" Hermione asked, palming the piece of parchment covered in neatly scrawled markings Theo handed her as she left the Great Hall following breakfast the next morning.

He'd been standing against the wall opposite the double doors, arms crossed, one leg braced back against the stone, uniform and hair all tucked-and-tidy as per his norm. The epitome of relaxed and vibrating ennui.

She'd noticed him immediately as she'd left the hall and, upon catching sight of her, Theo'd pushed off and headed directly toward her, his unfettered gaze never wavering from her face. He'd silently handed her the parchment now grasped in her grip, and currently stood before her shifting minutely from foot to foot.

'He's… nervous," she thought, and her heart did a silly little flip.

"I'm not good with apologies, Granger," Theo answered, "Draco and Blaise can attest to that." He shoved his hands in his trouser pockets and hunched his shoulders inward — only just — but she noticed.

'He's adorable when he's nervous,' she mused.

"Allllright….?" Hermione drew out, pursing her lips as she thoughtfully scrutinized him. He looked hopeful yet shuttered; thoroughly knackered — his eyes rimmed by insomniac charcoal — and she wondered at his methods of coping. They all had their ways, some more effective than others…

'He really doesn't have anything to apologize for, save for berating me like an errant child whose hand was caught in the candy jar…" she thought.

"What do you think?" Theo asked, nodding at what he'd handed her, and she was struck by how vulnerable he appeared beneath his typical veneer of aristocratic aloofness.

Like what he'd presented her, mattered.

Hermione regarded the parchment, and a warmth spread through her as she grasped not only the words but the significance of them. As she continued to read, she felt bubbles of mirth simmer in her throat, her tongue the cork preventing them from erupting into inappropriately timed peals of laughter.

Oh, this mattered quite a bit indeed.

He'd mapped out suggestions for their final project, and not just an itemized list of thoughts or ideas. No, that would have been too pedantic for Theo.

Instead, along with the multitude of impressive suggestions, he'd also gone and added for each the pros and cons, estimated completion time, level of difficulty and whether or not their efforts could benefit wizarding society or solely the significant grade boost.

And she thought her efforts marked the top of the swot barometer.

Astounded couldn't even begin to describe how she felt in that moment, skimming over his efforts.

"This must have taken you ages." Hermione breathed. "Did you get any sleep last night, Nott?"

"Some," Theo said, with a bite of finality tempered with a slight smile. She knew that tone intimately, and knew 'some' meant hours spent awake attempting sleep before giving up and lying there with eyes closed.

"If this is your form of apologizing…" Hermione murmured, reaching out to briefly lay her hand on his arm. She felt a shudder run through him at her touch, and her own fingers tingled at the contact as she let her hand drop. "Apology definitely accepted. Though not entirely needed."

Theo opened his mouth to speak but Hermione held up a hand to forestall his words. "I'd appreciate it though, if you'd be less of a berk the next time you wish to call my discretion or judgements into question. That, I wasn't too impressed with." She gave him a pointed look.

"Erm….Right." He nodded, looking somewhat abashed, and Hermione bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. Sometimes boys were so oblivious. He was obviously pants at verbal apologies, but in the essence of the action itself… he could definitely write instruction pamphlets on the subject.

"Well… regardless." Theo scratched the back of his head and looked down at her through eyes framed in slumberless soot. "I couldn't sleep so figured I'd best put my mind to good use. I know it's only just start of term but why not get an early jump on it, figure out our angle."

"And this is why we'll make a great team." She said with a chuckle, returning his parchment so she could rummage around in her bag.

"After you ran out on me last night, I put together a list of my own, though nowhere near to the level of intricate detail yours is." Hermione shook her head and laughed earnestly; Theo raising a well-maintained eyebrow in obvious curiosity.

"Harry and Ron would be beside themselves with glee at seeing me out-swotted, and on the first day at that." She explained, teeth flashing, and all but shoved her list at him in excitement.

Theo took it, their fingers touching, and gave it a once over, both eyebrows raising slightly. A slow whistle leaked out from between his full lips, and eyes dancing with intrigue raised up to meet her own.

"And I thought I was ambitious, Granger," he smirked. "Some of these are downright Masters material. I'm impressed."

She shrugged, though inwardly glowed at being praised for her ambition rather than fielding groans about extra work and lack of free time. "It's not like yours are anything to scoff at either."

Realizing they'd been standing outside the Great Hall for quite some time, she glanced around at the nearly deserted corridor, registering the increasing silence as footsteps and voices melted away down distant corridors and stair cases.

"Oh for the love of… we're going to be late!" She shrieked, and snatched both lists from Theo's hands, carefully but swiftly placing them safely in her bag before all but sprinting toward their first Transfiguration lesson.

"Thank Morgana this years classroom's in the south tower and all the way up on the 9th floor. Not too far away." Theo cheeked as they sprinted, knowing it was in fact the farthest of their core classes from the Great Hall.

As the two of them hurried up the staircase that wound up the south tower, Hermione wrestled up the courage to say quietly, "Just so you know, Nott, I get them too."

Theo slid his eyes sideways, though his face remained placid. "Get what Granger?"

"Panic attacks." She said baldly, and as storm clouds began to descend upon his features, Hermione hurriedly added, "There's nothing to be ashamed about. You're not alone in suffering…"

Theo growled, cutting her off and increasing his speed, leaving her trailing behind on the breeze of "you don't know anything, Granger."

'Well that went well.' She sighed, dejection slowing her pace slightly. She should have known blurting it out would be a mistake; years spent in the close friendship of two boys had taught her the essence of stealthy prodding and subtle lead-ins. But seeing Theo last night, the desperation in his eyes and the frantic nature of his actions… she only wanted to help.

'One step forward, three back,'

She knew all to well how deep the claws of panic could sink into the soul, sending one spiraling yet trapped in invisible thread, and the hours — sometimes days — it took to recover. To feel even a shred of normalcy; or at the very least, the summoning strength to act as such. She knew how triggers could be completely random, unpredictable, yet incredibly debilitating; and that no one had the right to judge another for suffering them.

Anxiety didn't discriminate; old, young, well-off or knut-pinching. None were exempt from panic's potential clutches.

Everyone who'd returned to Hogwarts had endured hell and hardships, regardless if their endurances and experiences of hell and hardships differed.

They were still all victims and survivors in the same breath; children fighting as indoctrinated pawns in adult wars they had no business being integrated in.

Hitching her bag more securely upon her shoulder, she entered the transfiguration classroom a few moments after Theo. The new Professor had her back turned and was writing on the blackboard at the front of the class. Hermione silently slid into the vacant seat near the front next to Eloise Midgen — who shot her an incredulous look she assumed was due to her tardiness — and hoped to Merlin that she wouldn't be called out or lose house points.

Theo had made his way to the rear row of tables, sitting down near the left side of the room between Malfoy and Daphne Greengrass; an arresting willow of a girl whose pores oozed propriety, pedigree and poise.

The professor finished writing, placed the chalk in the holder and turned toward the class. Raising her hands for silence, Hermione was surprised at how young she appeared. She had the indeterminable ageless quality of someone carrying a tad more weight than her frame intended — though her well-tailored robes flattered her girth instead of emphasizing it — and her above-average height, heavy lidded eyes and full cheeks in combination with the two twinkling and jeweled hair clips sweeping her hair back off her forehead could have placed her anywhere from maybe a few years ahead of those she now taught, to a woman in her mid-forties.

"Welcome welcome." She said, in clipped tones with an underlying inflection harkening to a county of Northern European origin; the edgy, heavy brusqueness at odds with her youthful appearance. "My name is Griselda Blishen, and I'll be your Transfiguration teacher for the year."

She ran her gaze over the eighth year student conglomerate and announced, "To those who just slunk in, I'll give you leave this once. Come in late again, and it'll be points. Third time, points and detention. There will not be a fourth time."

Silence met her laconic announcement, and she gave a nod in apparent satisfaction at their acquiescence and understanding; or, at the very least, to their silence. As she made her way down from the raised blackboard platform and toward the front row, she smiled, and the transformation was astounding.

Professor Blishen's austere countenance of moments before was transformed into that of delight and the smile lines etched into the fleshy skin around her eyes deepened, giving her eyelids the appearance of having whiskers. As she walked along the front row, Hermione could see a shimmer around the Professor's middle; a shimmer almost indistinguishable from the air around it.

Curious, she observed Professor Blishen as she outlined the syllabus for the year, and was so focused that she didn't even bother to write down the Professor's opening remarks as was her usual fashion. Instead, Hermione studied the movement of the Professor's hands and arms to determine where the visual disturbance was concentrated, though Hermione wasn't able to set her sights on it long enough to determine its origin before it became elusive once more. Frustrated, and wanting to know more, Hermione's hand shot in the air. Professor Blishen's monologue cut off abruptly.

'Apparently question period hasn't begun yet," thought Hermione.

"Yes, miss…"

"Granger, Professor Blishen. Hermione Granger." She said, lowering her hand.

"You have a question, Miss Granger?" Professor Blishen asked politely, but with a contemplative, calculating lens to her glance and her tone infused with expectancy.

"Erm, yes," replied Hermione, ready to bluster out — like years past — her typical demands of knowing what and why there was something… atypical, surrounding her Professor. However, just before the words vomited out from between her lips, she caught sight of Theo out of her peripheral vision and she could see him minutely shake his head.

At her.

Turning her gaze the tiniest smidgen in his direction so she could be sure of his nods intended recipient, she saw him repeat his slight motion, his eyes solely upon Hermione.

Her original words shriveled upon her tongue and she blurted the first thing that sprang to mind in their absence.

"Are you related to the manufacturers of 'Blishen's Fire Cinnamon Flavoured Whisky' by chance?" She asked without pause, as if that was the question she'd originally intended to ask.

The Professor gazed at Hermione speculatively for a beat before seeming to shake herself from her contemplation.

"Why yes I am Miss Granger, although that branch of the family and mine had an unfortunate falling out years back." She smiled again, though this time the smile fell distinctly short of her eyes. "I wasn't aware that wizards, especially students, were familiar with that… brand…" she trailed off, pursed her lips while gazing speculatively once more at Hermione — who'd adopted her most innocent and eager bookworm facade — before returning to her instruction on that day's lesson.

After a surreptitious glance around the room at her peers, it seemed no one was any the wiser to the undercurrents of the exchange between Hermione and their new Professor. Save for Theo, and another set of eyes off to his right.

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief when Professor Blishen moved on from her focused perusal of her person, and subtly caught Theo's eye once more. Her face must have conveyed its confusion as to what had just transpired, for he mouthed 'later' through barley moving lips.

'A Slytherin acquaintance, an intriguing final project, and a suspicious professor,' she thought with bemusement as she began writing down the lesson notes for review later, 'I imagine this will be far from the low-key year filled with normalcy and calm that Professor McGonagall had envisioned.'