I know it's been a lot longer than a week since the last update (not that anyone cares, but still). Turns out uni is a lot more busier than I remembered. Enjoy the chapter, I suppose.
Chapter 5: Flowers Fair
"Did you, or did you not write that song?"
Theodore pushed his Defence Against the Dark Arts textbook away and arched a brow at the girl.
"So what if I did?" he asked. "It's just a bit of fun."
Theodore had played no part in writing that dreadful chant, honestly, it was an insult she thought he would write such a thing. If he had been given control over the lyrics, he would've gone for an alternate rhyming scheme. It'd certainly be catchier.
And while he couldn't take credit for the whole chant – it was insulting Lavender thought as much, honestly, at least he'd have made it rhyme properly – he could only take responsibility for one line. Even that was only down to Draco pushing Montague to expand the chant from 'Weasley was born in a bin.'
That didn't even make sense, after all, Potter grew up in a bin as well, but there were no chants about him. If only Montague had been captain when Potter joined the Gryffindor Quidditch team. He'd be a shadow of the boy he was now if that were the case.
The key to Quidditch was getting into your opponent's mind and under their skin. Throw them off their game, and make them think about anything but the sport.
At least that's what Daphne always said.
Lavender's pink lips curled into a scowl, her eyes hardening like stone.
"A bit of fun and games?" she asked, her jaw set firmly. "You've ruined his confidence."
Theodore shrugged. "I didn't write the whole song."
"Which bit did you come up with then? Something boring, I bet." She tore some parchment off the role, the edges wonky. "'He always lets the quaffle in'?"
Theodore met Lavender's cold gaze with great amusement. "No actually," he said slowly, pulling out a small badge from his pocket. He slid it over to the girl. " 'Weasley is our King' actually."
Lavender all but shoved the crown-shaped badge back towards him. The pin caught on a crack in the desk, stopping halfway.
"You don't have to give it back, you know," he said, shooting her a smile, "We've got tons of spares."
"It's really not that funny."
"It is a bit though," he said. "Weasley looked like a right arse out there."
"It was mean," she said, her eyebrows pinching together. "You lot looked like absolute mugs when you lost."
The loss didn't bother him, it had become a habit at this point. Not that he particularly cared. Even Draco wasn't all that bothered by the loss, in fact, he was positively gleeful after Potter and the Weasley twins had been thrown off the quidditch team.
"Least we've still got a full team," he said dryly.
"Malfoy should've been banned from Quidditch as well," she said, wrinkling her nose. "That hag Umbridge got Fred banned as well. He didn't even do anything."
"For someone who doesn't believe Potter about You-Know-Who, you seem rather eager to jump to his defence," he said.
"Don't try changing the topic."
Theodore scoffed lightly. "I'd have thought Gryffindor loyalty extended beyond the quidditch field."
To matters which actually mattered, like a potential wizarding war. And not some useless quidditch games. Honestly, could six matches spread across the school year even count as a league?
"Why do you even care?" said Lavender quietly. "You Slytherins are hellbent on proving him to be a lunatic."
The 'Weasley is our King' badge toppled over, lying flat on the table, the unfastened, gold pin sticking into the air.
"I couldn't care less about Potter," he said, shrugging.
"Of course," said Lavender, with a slight shake of her head. "Is there anything you actually care about?"
Theodore rolled his eyes and plucked the badge off the desk. "I'm curious," he said. "How do you know Potter's wrong?"
"I don't?" she said. She grabbed her quill and began scrawling something on her parchment.
He squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to block out the piercing scratching of the quill on paper. She really needed a better quill, probably one that wasn't about three years old and didn't screech every time the nib made contact with anything resembling a writing surface. He'd have to add it to the list of potential Christmas presents.
"My parents think it's a load of codswallop," she continued. "I know Harry wouldn't lie, but maybe the maze was designed to trick him."
"A student died in that maze," he said pointedly.
"But we always knew it was risky," she replied. "That's why an age limit was set-"
She broke off abruptly, and the scratching stopped.
"You know something," she said quietly, "don't you?"
He knew more than just something. The whole Slytherin common room knew more than the others, bar Potter.
He knew their manor had been used for urgent meetings, ones he was strictly forbidden to attend. He knew the same thing happened at the Malfoys, the Flints, the Lestranges.
Theodore's father often encouraged him to attend gatherings prior to the summer that had just passed. The best way to learn about the outside world was by experiencing it.
Except when he'd asked his father about these meetings, he'd been told not to speak of any of it. Not to his father, not to any of his housemates. It was the first time he'd seen his father feel anything remotely akin to fear.
The sacred and honourable House of Nott couldn't escape this time. Their loyalties, established by his father when he was at school, meant there was nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide.
Nott Sr. couldn't just buy himself out of trouble this time. Not like he did at the end of the first wizarding war, as Theodore was so often told.
His father would be used like a puppet, and it wouldn't be long before it was Theodore's turn.
After all, wasn't that how the purebloods used those beneath them?
Theodore felt himself nod, his spine digging into the hard, wooden back of the chair.
"I think," he said, swallowing, "It'd be best if you started listening to what Potter says. He may be a lunatic, but this time, he's right."
"Shit," murmured Lavender.
Theodore was going to be late. Like, as in the thestrals were going to leave, and he'd have to run all the way to Hogsmeade sort of late.
"Will you stop moving about," hissed Lavender. "It'll just take longer."
She tugged at his tie in a bid to straighten it, her fingers brushing against his neck. He felt his heart quicken, and he could've sworn it was because he was worried about missing the carriages to Hogsmeade.
"It doesn't have to be perfect," he said in a hurried whisper, "it just has to make do."
"You asked me to help you," she said. "So will you just stay still."
Theodore reached up to move Lavender's hand away, but she simply swatted his hand.
"You're not going to be late," she said. "The last carriage leaves at, like, eleven."
Well, he hadn't ever waited around for that long to find out. And he didn't intend to either.
"I needed help with choosing my clothes, not tying a tie," he said.
He wasn't that inept. Of course, he knew how to knot his tie.
"Shut up Theo," Lavender said quietly, her fingers working away at the tie, rotating the loop.
"Hurry up then."
Her hands moved down to his robes, a last-minute attempt to rid the wrinkles. She knew what she was doing, after all, her hands seemed to be moving around on auto-pilot, her eyes boring into his.
Up close he could see her eyes weren't really brown, but rather a cloudy chestnut. Flecks of green and gold in a sea of brown - not quite intruders, but welcome visitors coming and going as they pleased.
Lavender's hands trailed back up, stopping to rest at his shoulders. Her fingers felt hot against the fabric of his deep grey robes, slowly moving upward until they burned against his neck.
"Are you done?"
The words came out like sludge, thick and heavy.
She shook her head a couple of times, patting the collar of his shirt before she took a large stride backwards.
"Er, yeah," she muttered, staring intently at the door.
"Thanks," he said, shooting her a smile. "I'll get you summat from Honeydukes, yeah?"
Her lips formed a tight smile. "Have fun on your..." her eyes flitted towards him for a split second, "... date."
There was an edge to her words, one he couldn't exactly pinpoint. They weren't exactly vicious, or anything, nor was there any malice. But there was something.
But she wasn't looking at him anymore, her eyes hidden away. It was probably mild disbelief, or something or other. He must've seen it wrong.
"Thanks," he said. "I'd best get going. Daph's probably thinking I've ditched her."
The door had already creaked open before he could finish his sentence, with Lavender half out of the cupboard already.
"Yeah."
He barely caught her reply as she stalked off, her hair willowing behind her.
Someone was in a hurry all of a sudden.
Was it possible to quit the school part way through Fifth Year?
It was a genuine question, one he'd been mulling over at least twice a day for the past month and a half.
O. were going to be the death of him, and honestly, he'd rather get Ts because he didn't turn up to the exams than an A after actually doing them. Anything lower than that, well, he would drink a gallon's worth of the Draught of the Living Death. It was a shame they didn't cover that until sixth year, though. He'd have liked to have made it himself.
"The absolute nerve of that rotten cow," said Daphne, scrunching up yet another piece of parchment. "She's reading our letters now."
"I thought it was only happening to the other houses," said Draco, looking up from the sofa.
Blaise took a bite from his chocolate frog. "Nah. We're the only house that knows, though."
"You don't think she actually cares though?" asked Theodore.
He'd been tempted to tell Lavender about the letters, switching to and fro every time he thought about it.
Yes, she deserved to know. She was his friend.
No, she shouldn't know. What if she told someone?
Yes, a subtle warning wouldn't cause any harm. She'd know it was a secret.
No, what if word spread? Umbridge would start pointing fingers at the Slytherins.
It went back and forth, back and forth. And then back again. And then forth again. A bit like the game muggles played. Tennis, was it?
"Who knows?" shrugged Blaise, "That woman is off her rocker."
"At least she's nice to us lot," said Draco, shifting slightly so he faced them.
Daphne cut some more parchment of her roll. A perfect rectangle.
"Barely," she said. "She keeps pestering me about joining the bloody inquisitorial squad. I don't know how you do it, listening to her bark at you all evening."
Now that could solve all of his problems. Though he wasn't part of the inquisitorial squad at the moment, if he joined he wouldn't be under suspicion should any Gryffindors happen to find out about the letters.
It would mean spending far too long in that toad's presence and in that disgustingly pink room. The stench of that sickly sweet perfume might kill him.
"Eh," shrugged Draco, "The idea of catching Potter and his band of merry men is enough for me."
Daphne rolled her eyes at the blond, swinging her legs onto Theodore's lap.
"Of course it is," she muttered, arching her back against the armrest.
"Sounds a bit shit though, innit," said Blaise, "Potter isn't going to be found because of bloody Dumbledore and McGonagall."
"How encouraging, Blaise," said Draco, "Truly."
Theodore leaned over to write more about the importance of Fanged Geraniums.
"Why are you still writing Theo," groaned Daphne, nudging his knee with her leg. "You've done at least a foot more than Sprout asked for."
And then she hooked her leg around his waist and pulled him sideways. His quill slipped on to the table, rolling until it the hit the edge of the parchment. Theodore on the other hand, found himself tumbling on top of Daphne.
Her hands reached out to steady him, gripping his shoulders. His arms were outstretched on either side of her, his hands sinking into the heavily cushioned seat.
If moving his hand didn't end up with him collapsing on top of her, he really would've moved that annoying strand of soft hair away from Daphne's face.
One of her hands moved up to his face, her fingers brushing his cheek absentmindedly.
"You two really need to find yourselves a broom closet and sort yourselves out."
Daphne's hand slipped from his face, and Theodore's arms gave way and he found himself falling on the girl. She yelped as he landed on her slender frame.
For one horrible moment, he thought he'd crushed her.
"Can you just go and die, or something," came Daphne's mangled voice from beneath him.
"Sorry," he muttered, gently getting off the girl.
"Not you," she said, "that blithering idiot Zabini."
Blaise smiled sweetly at the two of them, his chin resting in his hands.
"Nah," he said. "I'm going to wait until you guys decide to snog each other senseless. Goodness knows you two have been on tons of dates, and you haven't even kissed."
"And how do you know we haven't done anything?" asked Daphne, brushing herself off.
"Intuition, binoculars, that sort of stuff."
"You've been spying on us," spluttered Theodore. "That's well out of pocket."
"We're just a bit worried about you," said Blaise.
"I'm literally your friend as well," said Daphne, her brows drawn together.
"Exactly. We just wanted to make sure you guys were treating each other right."
"Should I bother mentioning the extendable ears?" asked Draco dryly.
"Is there any Zonko's product you lot didn't use on us?" said Daphne.
"It was a new batch, wasn't sure if the old man was ripping us off," said Draco.
"So you spied on us?"
"Well, we had to make sure the stuff worked. Umbridge needs some stuff for the next meeting," he shrugged.
"I think I might hate you guys," said Theodore, rolling up his homework.
"Don't be dramatic Theodore," said Blaise. "It makes you sound like one of Potter's pathetic Gryffindors."
The words worried him slightly. They were harmless, a dig at Gryffindor, but yet... No. They made jokes like this all the time, it was normal.
Except he couldn't quite shake the uneasiness for the rest of the evening.
They had three days left until the OWLs. officially started. Theory of Charms would take place on Monday morning, and it'd be two weeks of non-stop exams after that.
He could've sworn the last time he checked, they had at least a month to go before the exams started. If time flew in moments of joy, it crossed universes and dimensions in exam season.
The library was strangely subdued, it had been this way for the past week or so, with students preferring to recite their notes loudly in the common room. Apart from him, it seemed. And a reluctant Lavender.
"I am absolutely sick and tired of bloody charms," said Lavender, from across the table. They'd chosen one on the far end of the library, out of Madam Pince's range.
"Same," muttered Theodore, as he scribbled down all the charms that could be used to move an object.
"Your hand looks like it's about to fall off at any second now," said Lavender.
It felt that way as well. But, it was good practice for the exams. Draco had said they had to write pages upon pages upon pages in the theory exams. At least this way he'd get used to writing through the pain.
He wouldn't be unprepared like certain students who seemed dead set on practising the practical side of things.
Theodore glanced up at Lavender. "It's good practice for the exams," he said, rolling his wrist in repeated circular motions. "I'll take a Pain Relieving potion straight after each exam."
"You know they're not good for you on a regular basis," said Lavender. She brushed her hair out of her face. "You get more prone to aches and pains. And you can get addicted to the stuff."
"Why do you even know this?"
"Mum told me," she said. "Said some patients got hooked to the stuff and they had to create interventions for them. You should use Wiggenwelds instead."
Well, he knew that. But it was rather difficult to get hold of and was impossible to make since they didn't exactly have access to the aconite plants in the greenhouses. And the dried aconite leaves in the potions office were strictly off-limits to students, because of their scarceness.
Hogwarts had to harvest their own supply, since no shop seemed to sell any, and most of their supply went straight to Madam Pomfrey. What was left was used by the Sixth Years who were covering the potion. The closest the fifth years had ever gotten to it was a piece of homework Snape had set a few weeks before Easter when they had to write an essay on the properties of the Wiggenweld potion.
"I'm not going to get addicted to a Pain Relieving potion," he replied. "It's just for the exams."
Lavender shrugged, "Suit yourself. But exercising your hand is better in the long run."
"I'm sure it is," he said.
He probably would've exercised it, but he didn't exactly have the time. None of them did in fact.
"And you do know you it isn't supposed to be used to de-stress," she said, tapping her book. "There's other potions for that. And there's other things you can do to take your mind off things."
Theodore didn't remember telling her about that. Whether she actually knew that, or it was a shot in the dark, he wasn't sure.
It hadn't seemed like a bad idea at the time, it was an easy fix to several problems. His hand wouldn't hurt, he wouldn't be a nervous wreck in the exams, and his mind wouldn't go blank in those precious two hours.
It was a hell of a lot better than Baruffio's Brain Elixir and powdered dragon claw. A mix of sawdust and crushed asphodel cleverly marketed as tools for instant success in exams.
"Like what?" he asked.
"I dunno," she said, her eyes narrowing, "why don't you snog Greengrass in the middle of the common room, or something? It'll take your mind off exams."
"What?" he choked out.
"It worked for me," she said.
"Snogging Daphne in the common room?" he asked, arching a brow whilst fighting a smirk.
She wrinkled her nose. "No, you idiot. Snogging Dean in a broom cupboard."
The quill slipped from Theodore's hand, and onto his lap. A droplet of black ink spilt onto his white shirt, seeping through the creased fabric. He clenched his fist and took a deep breath, an attempt to ease the twisting feeling in his stomach.
She was allowed to kiss whoever she wanted. Why on earth did it bother him so much?
They were only friends, after all. Not even best friends, at that. Lavender had Patil, whereas he had Blaise.
"You and Thomas?" The words came out with more malice than he'd intended.
"Yeah," she said quietly.
"In a broom cupboard?"
"Common room would be too easy, nowhere near as thrilling as sneaking about. You on the other hand wouldn't be that well suited to a broom cupboard. You'd be too relaxed there."
God, he wanted to throw something. Maybe notes, or his bloody textbook? No, his inkpot would be better. It'd smash against the wall, and shards of glass would fly everywhere in a sea of black ink.
He felt his fingers tighten the inkpot's lid. It'd be a shame if all the ink spilt before it even hit the wall. Dark liquid smeared his hand, which he rubbed against the table, tainting it with a faint smudge.
"What is wrong with you?" he asked through gritted teeth. "Thomas, really?"
And he wasn't even sure why it bothered him so much, why the idea of Lavender up close with someone who was so...
Urgh. It didn't make sense.
"There's nothing wrong with Dean," she said defensively. "It's not like it meant anything. It was a quick way to release some pent-up nerves."
"I don't care about who you make out with or whatever," he said.
Though why he said that, well, remained to be seen. The words just sort of slipped out.
"Okay then," she said, biting her lip.
"I don't know what you think you achieved by doing that, but I want no part of it," he said.
"Cool."
"But Thomas?" he asked, yet again.
"What's your problem with him?"
He didn't have a problem with the mudblood, at least he didn't think he did. But he and Lavender weren't... right together.
That must be it. He was just worried about her, that was it.
"I think you're insane," was all he said.
Lavender's mouth broke out into a grin.
"It's an honour."
"Four stunners," muttered Lavender from beside him. "Four. What if she's..."
Her words trailed off, and she buried her face in his shoulder. Strands of frizzy, golden hair tickled his neck. He felt warm, thick tears spill onto his collar.
He found himself wrapping his arms around the girl, rubbing circles on her back. She grasped at the front of his robes, clutching the cloth tightly.
"She's going to be fine," he said quietly into her hair. "She's a professor. They'll have her fixed up in no time."
"She's in St. Mungo's," Lavender said, her voice shaking. "Mum says it isn't looking good. They need a miracle. That old hag's ruined everything," she whispered. "First Trelawney, and now Hagrid and McGonagall. Will she go after the students next?"
The way things were going, Theodore wouldn't be surprised if the Headmistress did exactly that. In fact, her decrees gave her enough leeway to already do that sort of stuff, according to Goyle. Apparently, Mr Goyle had been ordered to sign them off by one of the minister's aides.
"She won't," said Theodore. He kept his voice steady in an attempt to hide the lie from the Gryffindor. "It's all going to be fine. Dumbledore'll be back soon."
Never did he think that Dumbledore would be the best option for the school. Until now that is.
The bumbling wizard and his incessant need to preach about forgiveness and new beginnings were infinitely better than the current headmistress. Even he wasn't that stubborn.
"Promise me, Theo." The words were a faint murmur, brushed against his neck, a feather-light paint stroke, almost lost amongst the silence around them. "Promise me, that it'll be fine."
I promise.
She untangled herself from him, her red-rimmed eyes roaming his face. He always thought it had been a myth, that people could look beautiful after crying.
"Thank you," she breathed.
A strand of her hair obscured the side of her face. He clenched his fist, his nails digging into his palms.
"For what?"
"For not joining her Inquisitorial Squad."
Lavender took his hand in one of hers, and her other hand trailing up his arm. Further and further up until her fingers gently took hold of his chin.
"I like to think I'm slightly better than that." He tried for a lighthearted tone, instead the words came out more of a question.
"You are." Her voice was strangled as she spoke. "You're so much better than that."
She was so close to him. He could count her individual lashes. He could see there was more green than gold in her ever-brown eyes. He could hear her shallow breaths.
"Erm, thanks."
The words, though harmless, had an instantaneous effect.
Lavender let go of him, brushing wildly at her hair, her head downturned.
'Erm, thanks,?'
He was such an idiot. Who on earth said that in a situation like this?
He was half-tempted to hex himself there and then, in the middle of the store room. Break a few shelves, and drown in hordes of silver-plated goblets, and cutlery enamelled with gold.
"Yeah, no problem," said Lavender quietly, shaking her head slightly.
She muttered something beneath her breath, far too quiet for him to make out.
"I'll see you later."
And then she stumbled out of the room, and Theodore would be lying if he said he wasn't tempted to call her back. To grab her arm and stop her from leaving.
To convince her to stay there with him.
But he didn't do any of that. He simply watched her leave, his eyes following her figure until she was out of sight. But certainly not out of mind. She'd taken a spot in there, a permanent residency.
And there was nothing he could do about it.
The editing on this is a bit whack (probably will be for the remaining two chapters as well), since I haven't written in ages, and I seemed to have lost the skill in a matter of weeks. So apologies for that.
But there's only two chapters left, and hopefully I'll polish them quickly (they were supposed to be almost 100% about a month ago. Oops.)
Thanks for reading.