Chapter Text
Hermione turned a corner in the library, navigating dusty shelves and crowded tables with the ease of long years of practice and familiarity. With the beginning of December came the realization that the holidays (and thus, term papers) were just around the corner, and students rushed to write, revise, and generally panic over their lack of preparedness. The library was always packed with foolhardy students who didn’t plan ahead, but Hermione remained unruffled. In years previously she may have contributed to the panic herself, despite what she could now recognize as complete overpreparedness, but her year on the run and practical experience fighting the Dark Arts had somewhat tempered her hysterical nature when it came to grades and assignments. Her steps slowed as she looked out on a sea of faces that all looked too young to deserve the horrors of the previous school year.
She shook her head forcibly to withdraw herself from the wave of melancholy that had overtaken her and continued to the out-of-the-way table that always went unnoticed, given its unfavorable location far from any windows or shelves of useful subjects. She was already pulling a blank roll of parchment and a quill from her bag when she looked up at the table she was approaching.
A head of dark hair was bent over the table, examining a book and taking notes with firm, sure strokes. Hermione’s hands fell to her side as she cataloged in seconds the bookbag hooked neatly over the back of the chair, the pile of additional reference material near the edge of the table, and the green and silver tie around the neck of the table usurper.
“It’s not cursed,” Theodore Nott remarked mildly, neither looking up nor ceasing his furious note taking. After a few moments went by in which Hermione’s mind remained frustratingly frozen, he bit back a sigh and set his quill down. “Bad joke. Never mind, I was finishing up anyway.”
But there was a furrow to his brow that hadn’t been there before, and his bright blue eyes were carefully blank. Hermione’s mouth was speaking without consulting her brain.
“No!”
The word echoed much louder than expected and she winced before repeating herself more quietly. In for a penny, in for a pound.
“No. It’s fine, there’s plenty of room. Don’t worry about it.”
She settled herself in the farthest seat and settled her bag on the floor, rummaging in it for the books she needed and opening one up, smoothing her parchment out next to it. She stared at the page without reading for a moment, soft whispers from nearby tables and the scratching of quills on parchment filling the uncomfortable silence. She didn’t know what she was waiting for, but when nothing else happened, Hermione finally dipped her quill into her ink and began her work.
Hours had passed, she wasn’t sure how many, when Theo suddenly pushed his chair back with a screech that shattered the relative silence of the library. Hermione flinched, an ink splotch spreading across the margin of her parchment.
“Sorry,” Theo muttered, rolling up his parchment and placing it carefully in his bag. He turned to go and then paused at the edge of the open space around the table.
“Have a good night, Granger,” he said formally, accompanied by the slightest incline of his head, and disappeared into the stacks.
Hermione blinked in confusion and stared at the space he’d just occupied before shaking her head at herself and returning to her work.
—--
That Saturday was a Hogsmeade weekend, but Hermione begged off from accompanying Ginny, Neville, and Luna to the village. Half the shops hadn’t been rebuilt or reopened after the war, and she wasn’t interested in facing the reminders of what they’d all been through so recently. Instead she waved them off with a smile pasted on her face and thanked Neville when he promised to bring something back from Honeyduke’s for her. Then she gathered up her book bag and returned to her usual haunt at the library.
She’d been there perhaps an hour when soft footsteps interrupted her concentration and she looked up to see Theo standing at the edge of the ring of light from the wall sconce above the table. He gave a brief little nod of acknowledgement and turned to go, but something tense had settled in the lines of his shoulders. Hermione cleared her throat.
“You can sit,” she said brusquely, and then softened her tone slightly as she realized how rude and abrupt that must have sounded. “If you’d like.”
Theo half turned back to her, one eyebrow quirked up and a half smile playing around his lips. “Cheers.”
He set his books out on the table and Hermione’s eye caught on the first text. “Numerologica Mysteria was quite useless. You’ll have better luck with one of the Pritchard texts, honestly.”
“Yes, well, Vector has me writing on Wenlock’s Theory of Propagation and Campanus’ apparent theft of her work.” He gave a half hearted shrug, as he took a seat across from her. “It’s been done to death, but then I’m not sure she’s updated her syllabus since the 1200s anyway.”
Hermione’s jaw dropped. “Professor Vector had us researching Troy’s Hypothesis and that wasn’t even published until 1956, and anyway it still hasn’t even been proven definitively!” she protested.
Theodore snorted and just rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “Relax, Granger, it was a joke.”
She frowned and blew a wisp of hair out of her face. “Ha ha,” she responded flatly.
Theo pushed his books and papers away and leaned back in his chair, hands clasped behind his head. He observed her silently for a few moments as she continued her Arithmancy essay and then asked suddenly, “Didn’t feel like going to Hogsmeade today?”
Her fingers tightened on her quill. “I could ask the same of you, Nott.”
“Ah, well, that’s different. Baby Death Eaters got Hogsmeade privileges revoked this year,” he said, surprisingly casual. Hermione’s writing stuttered to a stop.
“But– But you… I thought you weren’t– Erm…”
“Marked?” He raised one sculpted brow. “No. But it doesn’t matter. Sins of the father and all that. Nobody wants us getting into things we shouldn’t be, and it’s easier to keep us under control when we’re all stuck in this godsforsaken castle.”
“Right, er, sorry.”
He shrugged again and turned back to his books. They spent the rest of the afternoon in silence, and Hermione found herself surprisingly grateful to have a studious companion for once. In previous years, she was constantly being interrupted by Harry or Ron asking for her to look over an essay or practically write one from scratch. As she put her quill down and shook out her cramped fingers, she allowed herself a moment of pride in completing the last of her essays that were due before the winter break. She checked that all her essays were dry and put them away in her book bag before hooking it over her shoulder, taking full advantage of the Undetectable Expansion and Featherlight charms that she had perfected on the beaded bag that had served her so well the previous year.
“See you around, Nott,” she offered with a small smile before taking her leave, missing his raised eyebrows at her friendly farewell.
—--
Hermione found herself studying with Theodore Nott more and more over the next few weeks. He never asked stupid questions–they’d actually had some interesting debates about the accuracy of Athanasios of Crete’s account of studying under the sorceress Medea–and she was even given a reprieve from other students, who often took one look at Nott and disappeared back into the stacks (on one memorable occasion, a tiny third-year had actually squeaked in fear at the sight of him). Granted, there had been whispers about fraternizing with the enemy, but those were mostly overruled by somewhat louder voices promoting more positive interhouse relations. Ernie MacMillan had marched up to her in the hallway Thursday last to pompously commend her on using her fame and reputation to rehabilitate the wayward souls led astray by the allure of the Dark Arts, but she had stared blankly at him until he cleared his throat uncomfortably and nodded briskly at her before continuing on his way.
The Wednesday before the end of term, however, there was a break in their routine. They were sitting at their usual table when another student ignored their productive silence to drop two massive tomes onto the table and exclaim huffily, “Theo, look over my Ancient Runes homework, none of this is making sense.”
Hermione looked up with wide eyes to see Pansy Parkinson spreading her books and notes out across the opposite side of the table, face screwed up in a scowl. She seemed to be ignoring the Gryffindor entirely, pestering Theo until he sighed and pushed away his book on magical creature legislation of the 1400s to pick up Pansy’s assignment, scanning it quickly before dropping it back on the table and pointing to a line near the top of the page.
“You’ve got Ehwaz there instead of Eihwaz. It threw off your whole translation.”
Without thinking, Hermione spoke up.
“Actually, Elhaz is more useful there since Professor Babbling specifically mentioned personal property in her lecture the day she assigned that homework.”
Complete silence answered her, and Hermione looked up, chewing her lip with regret. Both Slytherins stared back at her, silence stretching on uncomfortably, until Pansy sniffed and stood with a decisive nod of her head.
“At least someone around here knows what’s going on!” she pronounced, poking Theodore viciously in the side. “Give over, you useless lump, let me talk to the smart one.”
His lips tugging into a one sided smile, Theodore bowed mockingly to his housemate and obligingly swapped seats so Pansy could brandish her homework in front of Hermione’s face. Once they fixed up the mistaken rune, Pansy’s work was surprisingly decent, and she joined their study session scribbling at a parchment like it had personally wronged her until it was time for dinner.
“Granger,” she acknowledged airily before flouncing off beside Theo, who turned back briefly and gave Hermione a long-suffering grin and spread his arms as if to say ‘what can we do?’
Hermione shook her head at the empty table, not quite sure how she had ended up here, but made her way to the Great Hall just in time for the lavish spread to appear up and down the house tables thanks to the elves’ magic. Magical snow drifted down from the ceiling, disappearing a few feet above the heads of the gathered students, and exceedingly large trees trimmed in each house’s colors took the place of the usual decorations. Hermione stared wistfully at a red and gold draped tree, remembering watching her parents argue about which decorations went where and drinking hot cocoa late at night as they watched Christmas lights twinkle in the dark.
“.....for Christmas, right, Hermione? Hermione?”
A hand entered her field of vision and waved in front of her face, bringing her sharply back to the present. She smiled ruefully at Ginny.
“I’m so sorry, Gin, I was a million miles away. What were you saying?”
“It’s all right. You’re coming home with us for Christmas, right? Harry and Ron both have off of Auror training for the week and they’re both staying at the Burrow, and I figured with your parents…. Well….”
Hermione’s lips thinned, but she bobbed her head quickly.
“Yeah, of course,” she replied, striving for a casual tone. “Wouldn’t miss it.”
She chased a few peas around her plate with a fork before setting it down abruptly.
“I’m off,” she muttered. “Homework to finish.”
Ginny opened her mouth to respond, but Hermione was already up and off, making it halfway to the library before realizing she wasn’t going to be getting any more work done that evening. Her eyes filled with tears that she refused to let fall, and she turned abruptly to make her way to the eighth year dormitory.
“Oof!”
She collided with someone tall and careened back, only saved from falling flat on her back by a firm grip around her upper arm.
“Steady on, Granger. Where’s the fire?” a low, familiar voice teased. Hermione burst into tears.
Theo’s jaw dropped in shock and he dropped her arm as if he’d been burned.
“Bloody hell, I didn’t mean it. What on earth happened to you?”
“I– M-My…” She hiccupped and buried her face in her hands. The next thing she knew, a pair of tentative hands were tugging her gently forward.
“Come on Granger, let’s get you out of the hallway.”
She allowed herself to be towed along, not looking up until the brisk night air slapped her in the face and she discovered herself to be on a balcony above one of the smaller courtyards.
“Where are we?” she sniffled.
Theodore shrugged at her side.
“No one really cares about this place. I come out here when I need to think.”
Two book bags thudded onto the stone, followed by a groan as he slid himself slowly down the wall to sit casually on the ground, and she realized he had picked up her discarded bag as well.
She shifted her weight from one foot to the other until he looked up at her from the ground with that crooked half smile and patted the cold stone next to him.
“Plenty of room for two,” he quipped.
She tried to wipe her nose surreptitiously on the sleeve of her robe before sinking down to sit cross legged next to him. She braced herself for questions, but Theo just turned away from her and rummaged in his pockets before snapping his fingers, cupping them close to his face to protect the small orange flame he had conjured in his palms. He let out a long sigh and she wrinkled her nose as the smell of burning tobacco wafted towards her in the still air.
“Those things will kill you, you know.”
Theo gave a dark chuckle and took another pull from the cigarette, the cherry red glow intensifying and illuminating the sharp angles of his face in the fading light.
“Can’t possibly kill me faster than anything else.”
She leaned her head back against the wall of the castle, letting the cold leach into her skull and dull the throbbing ache that had started during her flight to the library. She stared up at the stars, mentally tracing familiar constellations and sighing heavily when she came to Canis Major and its brightest star, Sirius. Yet another reminder of everything they had lost.
“You ever wonder what the point of it all is?” Theo broke the silence abruptly. “Or do we just eat, fuck, reproduce, and die?”
Hermione sat up straight and looked at him incredulously.
“Have you ever comforted anyone before or does this sort of thing actually work on your friends?”
He laughed, warm breath billowing into clouds in front of his face.
“Come on, Granger, big brain like that–you can’t tell me you haven’t thought about it before. What’s your theory?”
She huffed and pulled her robes tighter around herself. There was silence for a moment and then she spoke slowly.
“I don’t know what I think anymore. I used to think it was about good versus evil, but the world isn’t divided like that. Maybe it never was. I did horrible things last year, things that good people wouldn’t do. Snape was a Death Eater, but he saved a lot of people’s lives with the information he gave Dumbledore.”
She paused and slumped back against the wall dejectedly.
“Maybe there is no point.”
Theo gave her a piercing look and flicked his cigarette butt across the balcony, following it up with a wave of his wand to vanish it into nothingness.
“I don’t think you believe that, Granger. I think you’re just afraid to admit that it doesn’t have to be as grand as saving the world.”
Hermione scoffed and looked up, words dying out at the serious gaze he was leveling at her. There was something uncomfortable in the way he looked at her, like he was seeing all the things she’d kept hidden from the world.
“You’re allowed to just live your life,” he said softly. “Take it one day at a time.”
Before she could respond, a shiver wracked her body and levity returned to his expression.
“Come on, Granger.” He stood up, unfolding himself with a groan and reaching a hand back down to help her up. “Let’s get you inside before you freeze.”
He gestured her back inside with a feather light touch at the small of her back and latched the door to the balcony behind them. In silent accord, they both turned and started walking towards the nearest staircase. Before parting to return to their own common rooms, Theo passed her bag back and touched her elbow gently.
“Take care of yourself, Granger. You look like death.”
Hermione’s lips twitched in spite of herself and she rolled her eyes.
“Yes, because most girls look like angelic visions after bawling their eyes out for the last hour.” Her sarcastic tone softened. “Thanks, Nott. I…. I appreciate the company.”
Theo ran a hand through his dark curls and gave a nonchalant shrug.
“Any time.”
She smiled gratefully and turned to head up the stairs to the Gryffindor common room.
“And, Granger!” She turned back, a look of exasperated good humor on her face. “You can call me Theo.”
A blush started somewhere in the region of her collarbones and crept inexorably up her face.
“Erm, right. Well… Thanks. Theo.”
A pleased smirk crossed his face.
“Good night, Granger.”