Chapter Eighteen

Hermione watched the thestrals play in their paddock after class and felt a little forlorn. Across the paddock, she caught a glimpse of Theo Nott feeding some of the thestral colts through the fence and she couldn't control her curiosity enough to keep herself from walking around their enclosure.

"What are you doing?" She asked instead of a greeting.

Nott looked up at her in surprise, "Granger, hey I didn't see you." He showed her his bucket of cubed meat that he had in his hands. "The smell of the thestrals must have distracted me. I'm feeding the little ones." Hermione looked at him in confusion, but decided not to ask.

"What kind of meat is that?" Hermione asked curiously.

"Better not to ask. I got it from Hagrid," Nott smiled. And Hermione chuckled in response, because knowing Hagrid it could be absolutely anything. "Did you want to help me feed the babies?" Nott asked, cautiously as though he was afraid of offending her.

She had been rather nasty to him hadn't she, Hermione realised. He hadn't done anything in particular to earn her bad temper except be born a Pureblood wizard and that was hardly his fault.

"I'd love to," she surprised herself by realising that was the truth. They took turns hand feeding the meat to the little thestrals. Their teeth were a bit disconcerting, but they seemed able to differentiate Hermione's hand from the food. She swallowed a giggle when one of the smaller ones licked the blood from her palm.

"Thanks for taking care of Pansy the other night, Granger," Nott offered as he tossed a bit of meat to one of the more nervous colts that lingered towards the back of the group. "I really appreciate it. She doesn't let people in, but she seems to have really taken a liking to you."

Hermione blushed as she fed some of the smaller babies so that she could turn her face away from him. "I've been enjoying Pansy's friendship as well," Hermione admitted. "Even though she's taken it upon herself to improve my hair and makeup."

"She does that, but watch out, she's the one that convinced Draco to use all that gel the first couple years of school, so she's not infallible." Nott laughed and Hermione had to admit that he was very handsome when he did. "Although she'd probably deny to her last breath that she was responsible for the gel now."

"She said something about curl defining potions, but I'll make sure to be cautious." Hermione watched Nott from under her eyelashes while scratching the muzzle of one of the thestrals. "I was surprised that you were still taking Care of Magical Creatures. Are you planning to do something that you'll need the NEWT?"

Nott shrugged. "I'm Lord Nott now. Everything in the estate is my responsibility. From the smallest magical creature to the biggest vault. It just made sense."

Hermione sighed. Of course, more Pureblood nonsense, she thought in annoyance. It bloody figured that Nott was a lord. He looked like one didn't he? He was taller and broader than most of the other eighth years, she could picture him on the cover of one her mum's old romances. Hermione tried to ignore the pain that thinking of her mum stabbed into her chest.

They both reached into the meat bucket at the same time and their hands touched when she accidentally grabbed his hand instead of a chunk of meat. Electricity flooded her body from the contact and her eyes met Theodore Nott's. He was holding his breath as he stared at her, his expression blank.

Hermione yanked her hand back, "I should go it's, um almost time for herbology. Thanks for letting me help." She turned and nearly ran towards the castle, leaving Nott watching her go.

*

She'd touched him.

Him.

Of course, she'd run away immediately afterwards, but he'd take what he could get. He tossed the last few pieces of meat to the waiting thestrals and then wandlessly scourgifying his hands, before hanging the bucket on the post for Hagrid. He wiped his hands unnecessarily on his trousers and turned to walk up towards the greenhouses. He tried to steel himself for watching Longbottom and Granger together in Herbology. He knew the other wizard was a good man, and if the rumour mill was anything to go by he would be proposing to that Hufflepuff soon, but Theo would be damned if he just let him take his mate from him.

*

Hermione spent most of Herbology and dinner thinking about that accidental touch. Neville had to give her a copy of his herbology notes, which was unlike her and had earned her a concerned look from the other Gryffindor. Her eyes kept flicking to Nott and Malfoy at their station. Nott was studiously not looking at her, but Malfoy's grey eyes wandered to her again and again.

Later that night, Hermione stared up at the ceiling, unable to sleep.

She wasn't sure why she was set against Nott in the first place.

It was uncomfortable to realise that she had no valid reason other than him being Pureblood and male. She vaguely wondered if she should hold his new lordship against him too.

However, he'd never teased or tormented her like Malfoy had done before the war, but even that had stopped after the Quidditch World Cup. Malfoy was so subdued these days. What had Luna said? His marriage contract had been revoked? Dissolved? That had to have been a blow to his astronomical ego. Though he had been very polite to her so far this year, dare she say she even was looking forward to their next potions session.

She thought back all the way to her encounter with Nott on the train and realised he was always just concerned for her. She must have been a sight, angrily cursing out Ginny that she couldn't even keep her balance on the moving train. Then Nott was just there, catching her as she fell, and instead of thanking him she continued to take her anger on the Weasley's out on him.

Gods, she had so much apologising to do to him, that is if she could manage an actual conversation without her anger flaring up, she thought guiltily. She should make it up to him somehow. But how? Perhaps she could try giving him a chance, they had Alchemy together in the morning. She could sit next to him. What's the worst that could happen?

*

Hermione slid into the seat next to Nott and Malfoy at the back of the room as their French professor began writing on the blackboard.

"Good morning," she chirped, as though it was perfectly normal for her to sit next to them.

"Morning, Granger," Nott said with a smile. "Might I ask why you have graced us with your presence this morning?"

"This is Alchemy, correct?" Hermione asked with a smile of her own.

"Yes." Hermione hadn't realised that Nott had a dimple in his left cheek, it was overly endearing. Maybe sitting this close had been a dangerous prospect.

"Well, I didn't recall there being assigned seats in this class," Hermione raised her chin defiantly. "Was I wrong?"

"Not at all," Nott grinned at her. "You're welcome to sit with us any time."

"You just let Nott speak for you, Malfoy?" Hermione asked the blonde who hadn't even looked up at her yet.

"Usually, it's for the best," Malfoy answered without looking over at her, carefully organising his quill, inkwell and parchment for the class that was about to start. "He's far less likely to put his foot in his mouth than I am."

Hermione snorted and began working on getting her own things ready for class.

*

She had to have been ridiculously hungover the week before because otherwise there was no excuse for realising that their professor was a leering creep. He was easily double her age and the way that he looked at her like he was undressing her with his eyes made her skin crawl. It wasn't just because he was French either because she'd met a number of Fleur's relatives at the wedding and none of them had behaved so predatorily towards younger witches. She bet that Madame Maxine had been thrilled to get rid of him for the year and was hoping he wouldn't return. He really had no business being a professor.

Nott had practically vibrated in indignation when Professor Almour had touched her shoulder. He looked more offended than she felt, she really had misjudged Nott. Even Malfoy wrinkled his nose in distaste at the professor's behaviour and looked as though he had been about to say something before shaking his head and returning to his notes.

She was going to have to talk to McGonagall about this if it kept up.

*

Theo wanted to rip the wizard's throat out. He wanted to Avada him where he stood and then piss on his corpse. Granger had been completely uncomfortable with the professor's behaviour and had edged her chair closer to him. Him! That had really been the only bright spot in the class.

How he was going to tolerate this class for the next year he did not know. He doubted he'd learn a thing, he was far too focused on keeping his little mate safe from the wizard in the front of the room. And she was close enough he could breathe in the vanilla scent of her, maybe someday soon he would look over at her and she'd be wearing jewellery from his vaults, maybe a nice set of black pearls or a strand of cherry amber to match her eyes.

Yes. That would be nice.