Chapter Text
If anyone had told Thorin Durin, fifth year Slytherin and newly appointed captain of the Quidditch team, that he would be developing feelings for Bilbo Baggins, fifth year Hufflepuff prefect, he would have laughed right in their face. It all started in Herbology class, of all places. At the start of term, Professor Sprout had decided to pair up the class for the year, making sure to put students together who were in different houses, "to discourage house segregation", she claimed. What a load of bollocks, Thorin had thought sulkily, upset that he couldn't at least suffer through this with his best mate, Dwalin, who he knew didn’t care much for the subject either. He was determined to just plough through this class, get the Herbology O.W.L. over with, and then never have to delve into this terribly dull subject ever again.
As soon as his name was called, Thorin took his seat, glancing over at the guy next to him. He was very much taken aback by the stunningly dark, chocolate brown eyes that met his own and continued to stare as a hand was held out to him.
"Hi! I'm Bilbo, Bilbo Baggins," the boy in question introduced himself politely, a Hufflepuff by the looks of it.
"Thorin," he gruffed back, shaking his hand briefly before letting go and proceeding to slouch in his seat as the lesson began. It was obvious he was uninterested in whatever Professor Sprout had to say, who was beginning the class by going over the different types of plants they would be studying this year in preparation for the O.W.L.s. Bilbo was the exact opposite, practically bouncing in his seat with excitement, so much so that Thorin couldn’t help but notice, cocking an eyebrow in his direction. The Hufflepuff’s enthusiasm practically doubled as their plants were placed in front of them, quickly rifling through his textbook to get to the correct page.
“This is my favorite class, you know,” Bilbo said conversationally, retrieving a quill and parchment from his backpack. “My dad’s a gardener, and I used to help him out all the time, especially in our yard back home. I still remember the first time I ever brought home a magical plant to him; he freaked out and wouldn’t stop studying it for the entire summer break! Though I don’t really blame him, I mean, before that, the most exciting thing we ever studied together was a venus fly trap.”
“Your dad’s a muggle?” Thorin asked, picking up on it right away. He wasn’t usually one for small talk, and typically ignored it entirely, but there was something about this boy that intrigued him. Maybe the kid was just too annoying to brush off.
Bilbo’s cheeks pinked a bit at the question; he didn’t mean to reveal his background so quickly, as he had found some of his peers still weren’t keen on the idea of muggleborns, which was ridiculous in this day and age. But it seemed prejudice would always be there to rear its ugly head, no matter what, and it was nothing new. He had been dealing with it for almost five years now.
“Yes, yes he is. My mum’s a muggle, too, and I’ll have you know that just because I didn’t grow up in this world with magical parents, that doesn’t make me less of a wizard! I am just as qualified to wield a wand as you are,” Bilbo huffed, his entire face now beet red as he focused his gaze on the class assignment. Thorin had been taken by complete surprise at the sudden outburst that had been thrown at him, not feeling he had said anything in particular to elicit it.
“I was just asking; I didn’t mean to imply anything against your abilities,” Thorin stated matter-of-factly, finally making an effort to open his book, though he really had no intention of even touching the plant.
“Yes, well, I’ve found it’s easier to start off on the defense rather than be openly exposed for ridicule,” Bilbo answered, avoiding Thorin’s gaze pointedly. It was obvious that others had commented on the Hufflepuff’s background in the past, hence why he had adopted the attitude he currently sat with.
Thorin didn’t interact with many muggleborns, as his entire family and even his friends were all pureblooded, so he was just naturally surrounded by such. Sad to say, his family, particularly his father’s side, encouraged the idea that magical folk were superior; the only person not to instill this into his head was his mother, who had informed him, despite his father’s ideals, that magical background really had nothing to do with ability. Upon entering school and being exposed to others who did not grow up the same way as he had, Thorin had discovered this to be true. However, he found it safer not to discuss his findings, especially to his father and grandfather.
That was the end of their small talk, and the two stayed quiet for the remainder of the class, Bilbo studying the plant intently while Thorin sat back and stared at it, occasionally flipping through his text to appear busy. Once class let out, they went their separate ways, and Thorin’s lingering thoughts about the hot-headed Hufflepuff began dissipating as he met up with Dwalin to head to Potions.