Legal: I own nothing
Chapter 10
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"I do believe the catalyst of your sour disposition has made an appearance. Let the fireworks begin." Draco drawled into Theo's ear, causing his lips to twist as he raised his eyes to where Draco subtly indicated.
His eyes met and held with Granger's as she exchanged a few words with the youngest Weasley. He felt the mounting tension inside him sag without the weight of her gaze when she broke the connection, and he released the breath he hadn't been aware of holding.
He hadn't needed Draco's observation. He'd been conscious of her presence the moment she'd stepped foot in the common room. He'd been surreptitiously glancing at the entrance every time he heard the whoosh and clunk that announced a new arrival, and felt a jolt of disappointment each time it was another student, rather than the one he sought. Theo'd been browsing through the book on his lap whilst listening to the chatter of his housemates around him when he'd heard the inner door open and close and he'd seen her from beneath his lashes.
"Oh, bugger off Draco," Theo said, qwithout malice. He'd been expecting a comment such as this since lunch, and was relieved that at least Draco had employed discretion in his observation. None of the others around them appeared to have heard his comment.
Arriving late to transfiguration with Granger in tow and an atypically obvious chip upon his shoulder, he'd had mere seconds to wrangle his emotions back behind his occlumency walls before he'd sat down between Draco and Daphne. Neither were the wiser as to how disconcerted and embarrassed he'd felt at Granger offering sympathies. As if he deserved them…
Instead, he merely appeared cross and annoyed.
Daphne had taken one look at his face and had promptly sent her trademark glare toward Granger. For her part, Granger merely firmed her jaw and straightened her posture. She didn't cower or wilt under the intensity of Daphne's withering gaze. Theo would have been surprised if Hermione cowered to anything after last year…
Most would infer from Daphne's protective behavior that emotions simmered between the two Slytherins expanding beyond mere friendship.
They would be partly correct.
If Theo were to classify his feelings toward Daphne, however, it'd be as a sister or cousin, not potential lover. To his knowledge, she hadn't felt romantic inclinations toward him either, typically treating him in similar fashion to her younger sister; with exasperation, tolerance and a fierce protectiveness.
She was as close to him — the real him — as he'd allowed anyone to be, for she'd known him before his mother's… accident. Though even Daphne hadn't glimpsed the man who'd grown behind his carefully crafted mask; the mask he was slowly, intentionally, removing. Piece by piece.
Draco, who'd always delighted in mocking and commenting on the Gryffindor trio when Weasley and Potter attended Hogwarts, had been noticeably silent when his slate eyes had absorbed Theo's tardy appearance and the expression on Granger's face and the clench of her jaw. Theo'd been thankful that despite Draco's uncanny ability to read between the lines and infer what others would overlook, he'd resisted commenting or pestering Theo about it.
At first.
Draco'd merely raised a groomed pale eyebrow in Theo's direction, flicked his eyes toward Granger, and then silently appraised them both during lessons. It was only later, in the Great Hall at lunch, that he'd cornered him and pounced.
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"Was it a coincidence that both you and Granger were tardy for class? Or was she the reason you barreled in looking as if you ate something rotten?" Draco said, as if discussing the banalities of the weather.
Theo glanced sharply at Draco, to determine how much to reveal, how much would be sufficient in light of their midnight conversation.
Seeing as they were surrounded by the rest of their peers, Theo concluded surface level information the most appropriate.
"Not coincidence, though rotten would be quite stretching things." Theo paused, then, ripping the bandaid off, stated confidently, "I asked her to be my partner for the final project."
His statement had the anticipated effect amongst those around him who'd heard.
Greg looked at him, mouth agape and his brow furrowed in incredulity. Whether that was due to Theo's willingness to converse with a Gryffindor, a muggleborn or the simple fact of her being female, Theo wasn't certain.
Daphne looked pensive. She gnawed on the corner of her lip — a habit her mother had been attempting unsuccessfully for years to dissuade her of — in contemplation and stared at him with thoughtful reflection.
Pansy glanced at him, shaking her head while raising her arms saying, "Not my sanatorium, not my kneazles… If you want to court fleas, Nott, be my guest."
He bared his teeth in a mockery of a smile. She wasn't able to conceal her flinch at his frosty tone and frostier eyes as he replied, "Check yourself, Parkinson. It is by the grace of others you're even allowed back here, hers being one of them. Best remember that."
Her reference to fleas and the inference that Granger was still below them in pecking order chafed at him, and he looked challengingly at both Draco and Blaise.
"You lot take issue with who I deign associate with?" He asked imperiously.
Blaise regarded him with an imperious scrutiny before shrugging, shaking his head as he returned to his food, his disinterest in the entire situation distinctly clear.
Draco looked about to verbalize a thought, but surprised Theo once more by remaining mute and instead merely looking, if anything, slightly disappointed.
"I guess that means I'll be stuck with Zabini here, seeing as you've gone and secured yourself the only other person who'll actually do their share of the work."
That was all. No reference to mud, scum, or filth; directly or implied.
Instead, a veiled compliment.
Theo breathed a sigh of relief, for it appeared as though Draco'd taken Theo's words from their first night back seriously.
Blaise looked vaguely amused at being regarded as Draco's consultation prize, and nipped that thought effectively in the bud.
"Deepest apologies Malfoy," he drawled, dabbing at the corners of his lips with a napkin, "but you'll have to make due with another peon as my sights are set elsewhere…" He didn't expound upon where in fact they'd been set. Theo hid a grin as Blaise resumed eating, his table manners exquisite as he had fluidly sliced up his roast and sipped at his pumpkin juice.
At Blaise's casual dismissal, Draco became instantly sullen and withdrawn, and was spearing his brussel sprouts with more force than required.
Tracy and Millicent were engrossed in their own conversation and appeared aware of the shifting dynamics and subtle undertows threading themselves amongst the rest of the eighth year snakes as they'd ate. Of the eight of them, though, Theo would have been surprised if either Tracy nor Daphne would have raised a fuss or snarked about pedigrees.
As they all left the Great Hall and ventured on to their afternoon lessons, Theo pulled Draco subtly aside and away from the remainder of their house, drifting back to mingle amongst the blue and bronze.
"You do realize he loves to bait you, ya?" Theo asked, though his words did nothing to raise Draco's darkening spirits.
"He's just such an ass." Draco bit out and Theo laughed. Draco had always detested being wrong footed or brought down off his throne. And he absolutely detested being forced out of his comfort zone.
"Look who's throwing stones mate. You could give lectures on being a pampered, entitled ass, who pouts as well as any ankle-biter." Theo joked, earning him a sardonic grin before Draco once more fell into a maudlin mood.
"Of course he shut you down the way he did, Draco. You inferred he was a lesser choice, and presumed he'd be nothing but grateful to be fed scraps of your attention. Maybe in the distant past where you actually held court, you may have gotten away with your comment and presumption. But now…"
Theo shook his head and sighed. Apparently not everything he'd said had penetrated that blond head. "We need to rebuild, Draco, and that means not alienating those who are our peers. They'renot subjects. This was your fuck up, he just reacted in typical asshole fashion. Blaise has always held himself aloof and aloft, even during the darkest of times."
"I always wondered why he seemed to look down on all of us... not just the bloodtraitors and the muggleborns. He was always quick to cut down one of his own as well. He's not even sacred twenty-eight, as if that bullshit matters anymore..." Draco mused sullenly.
"Blaise has never truly believed all the blood purity fuckery Draco; he just toed the party line and spewed the least offensive rhetoric so as to not draw attention. His preferred step-father was muggleborn, and was the only one half decent to him."
"How do you know that?" Asked Draco incredulously. Theo knew Draco'd been under the impression Blaise was every bit as prejudiced as the lot of them, though simply preferred to play the role of disdainful aristocrat. Draco had been wrong, on both his and Blaise's accounts.
"I'm observant, quiet. People are apt to drop their guard around those they feel pose no threat, and take no notice of. Don't tell me there's no skeletons or shadows in your closet Draco... we all have masks and armours of thickened flesh to protect what we hold dear and true."
Draco had given Theo a penetrating look before returning to his brooding silence.
The cloud of gloom and inflated bitterness had rested above his friend for the remainder of the day, seeming to shift only when Draco began to needle Theo into revealing what had set him off before Transfiguration as they lounged in their new common room.
Then she'd entered, and Theo's focus had shifted from deflecting Draco's comments to watching Hermione.
"Let it be," Theo finally snapped, authority threading through the curt clipped tones. The effect was instantaneous. Draco sat back abruptly and arranged himself into the epitome of an aloof aristocrat, though his slate eyes were regarding Theo like a hawk.
Theo surveyed the two Gryffindors as they chatted, or rather, Granger chatted and the last of the school Weasley's listened. Although, listened may have been stretching it, as she appeared to interject as much as she was silent and at one point, had glanced baldly over. When she realized she'd run into the net of his gaze, she'd given a jolt of surprise, then an amused wave coupled with a canary-eating grin. Granger herself looked to be memorizing the patten of the fabric upon which she sat, cheeks tinged a muted rose.
'Enough of this,' he thought tiredly, and rose with a weary elegance from his chair. Placing a bookmark between the timeworn pages of his book, he set it on the table beside the ornate piece of furniture he vacated and proceeded toward where Granger and Weasley resided. He knew his abrupt and silent departure would be generating waves amongst his kin, however, he really didn't give a toss.
'Let them percolate,' he thought as he reached the vignette of furnishings that housed the two Gryffindors.
"Evening ladies," he said, and nerves had his already husky timber pitched lower, like a campfire had caressed his vocal cords and been extinguished with scotch. He would have felt gauche and circumspect, had he not witnessed the minute shiver that seemed to run along Grangers spine as he spoke. Seeing her reaction to him bolstered his confidence once more, and he turned toward the littlest Weasley.
"Theodore Nott," he said, by way of acquaintance.
"I know who you are." Said Weasley.
"Ginny…" Sighed Granger, earning her an eye roll.
"Oh fine! Ginny Weasley," the redhead announced, curiosity spilling from her cerulean eyes as her frigid tone whipped through him. "Though I'm sure you already knew that."
She held out her hand and instead of shaking it with his own, he grasped her fingertips and quickly bestowed a kiss upon the back of her hand.
"Pleasure," he said courteously, his lips twitching as she snatched her hand back with exasperation, her frosty composure cracking slightly. The old ways, for all their drawbacks, were in his opinion, definitely more gentile and refined in greetings than the modern fashions of address.
And much more pleasurable.
"Well then." Weasley said, with slightly more warmth, "Can't say you're lacking in manners."
He saw Granger raise an eyebrow and he felt his stomach give a small little flip as he reached for her own hand.
"Enchanté," he murmured, repeating his previous gesture, allowing his lips to linger a second longer, press a tad firmer to her skin than he had her friend's. He was heartened when a blush stained her cheeks though he could tell she was slightly vexed with him despite her outward calm.
Her fidgeting fingers and the tense line of her neck betrayed her.
"Granger, a word?" He asked politely, conscious of the fact he hadn't yet released the hand he held. He was also conscious of the fact she hadn't pulled her own out of his light grasp.
Granger opened her mouth to speak, when Weasley announced, "I'm going to go find Luna. See you back at ours Hermione."
Standing, she gave Granger a look that held an entire conversation in a glance, then flounced off toward the entrance.
Now alone, Granger's temper appeared to have simmered to the surface. The departure of her friend seemed to snap her to awareness and she removed her hand from his with a smoothness that would have made Narcissa Malfoy proud.
"May I?" Theo asked, gesturing to the newly vacated chair.
"It's empty," she said archly, shrugging her shoulder in nonchalance as he arranged himself upon the upholstered cushion.
"I'm sorry," Theo blurted out, leaning forward, elbows on knees and hands clasped in earnest.
"Sorry for what?" Granger asked, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow. "Sorry for yet again biting my head off, or sorry you apparently can't make up your mind how to act around me?"
Theo made to respond, but she interrupted him.
Leaning forward herself, she reached across and laid a hand upon his. He felt himself twitch at the contact, but didn't retreat.
"Nott —"
"Theo," he said, "please, call me Theo."
"Alright, Theo." She said. Hearing his name pass between her lips sent shivers down his spine, "My two best mates are male, so I understand all too well how you lot operate. I understand and can respect you not wanting to discuss certain… topics, but I just wanted you to know you weren't alone in what you experienced last night. That's all. I'm looking forward to working together —"
"And getting to know each other," Theo said, turning his hand over so her palm rested lightly within his.
"Quite." She said, a small smile dancing upon her lips.
"All I ask is that you try and temper that blade you call a tongue, as it is quick to sever a conversation and skewer those who dare walk off the path of your internally-approved topics. Part of getting to know someone is to let them see the parts that get the least amount of sun."
Theo regarded the witch in front of him, whose earnest eyes appraised him with something akin to… hope, and warmth.
"I don't…" he started, but his voice broke.
"You do." She whispered, and squeezed his hand. He wondered if she knew legillimency, for she seemed to understand what he couldn't bring himself to verbalize.
"I'll work on it," he said finally.
Not try.
He would do it, would work at opening himself up. At least to her, if only to bask in the warmth her presence, her apparent acceptance, provided.
"So, Theo," Granger said, removing her hand and leaning back in her chair. "We've much to discuss."
He regarded her somewhat warily. Sure she'd continue to chip away at his veneer like Daphne tried, he was surprised when she instead said, "When do you want to go through our combined ideas and pick a topic?"
Thankful they had moved off of feelings and onto something more comfortable, more neutral, Theo flashed a genuine smile, his cheeks protesting the rare use of their muscles. "Why Granger, I thought you'd never ask."
"Hermione," she said. "You can call me Hermione. All my friends do…"
"I'd be honored," Theo said simply, "Hermione."
A/N: thank you to everyone who's followed, favorited or reviewed. You seriously make my day!