Notes:
This chapter is a big turning point, since many of the actions taken have major repercussions—much like the Gryffindor Party and that scene in McGonagall's office. This chapter was already planned when I first began this story and has changed very little since.
Hermione had hoped Ginny would be around to help her dress for dinner with Theo, but Ginny never returned to their room after meeting Harry by the lake. Lavender was a poor substitute, lying on her bed in knickers and a chemise and sneering at Hermione's every move.
"You really should be studying, Lavender," Hermione said as she pulled dresses out of her wardrobe. She was sick of the staring. "At the rate you're going, you'll earn no NEWTs at all."
"I have better things to do with my time," Lavender said, languidly stretching. "We're not all frigid swots."
Hermione's fingers tightened on a hanger, but she said nothing, just held up the blue velvet dress she'd worn to Slughorn's dinner. Theo hadn't seen her in it yet. Lavender watched as Hermione shed her fluffy pink robe.
"See something you like?" Hermione asked, raising her eyebrows. "Don't you have some poor bloke to follow around? There must be someone at Hogwarts who likes the desperate, clingy type."
"You'd be surprised," Lavender said wickedly, running a finger from stomach to throat.
Hermione refused to ask; it was probably Cormac or some other rubbish heap of a person. She dressed quickly and fastened her parents' sapphire pendant. She even put on makeup—a little more than usual, she was stalling. She didn't fancy wrestling with her hair in front of Lavender.
In the end, she had no choice; it was either do her hair now or be late to dinner. And her hair, of course, sensed this on some level (she'd long suspected her mane was semi-sentient) and was at its most perverse, frizzing with abandon despite how much Sleakeasy potion she heaped on. Hermione struggled to twist or braid the curls, even with the help of her wand, and the more she worked the bigger her hair grew. Lavender's snide remarks certainly didn't help, and the wretched girl was now sitting straight on her bed, eyes sparkling, giggling uncontrollably.
Flushed and desperate, Hermione did the one thing she'd vowed she wouldn't do: She went to her trunk and pulled out the flat velvet box from Malfoy. Lavender stopped laughing, and her eyebrows climbed into her dark blonde hair at the sight of the clip and hairpins.
"Birthday gift?" Lavender asked.
"Yes," Hermione said. She dragged the diamond clip through her frizzy curls like it was a comb, and blinked in amazement as the clip left soft waves in its wake. She twisted up the thick waves and fastened them easily with the clip, then inserted the hairpins. Malfoy's clip and pins stood out clearly this time against her smoothed dark locks, but that couldn't be helped. Lavender watched sullenly as Hermione teased out a few curls with her wand.
"Have a good evening, Lavender," she said with a thin smile. "You do, I assume, have plans with your mystery man? Off to creep around in a corner somewhere?"
Lavender's dark expression vanished. "You're not the only one who can bag a Slytherin," she purred.
Hermione tried not to react as she tugged candlesticks and three books out of her small beaded bag. Was Lavender sneaking around with a Seventh Year, then? Because there weren't any Slytherin men in Eighth Year except Blaise, Theo, Goyle and ...
Malfoy. Hunched over her bag, a candlestick in hand, Hermione looked sharply at Lavender, who was flushing now with triumph, her eyes sparkling. "Yes, you know who I'm talking about," her roommate said. She licked her lips. "So hot. Likes it rough."
"Isn't he betrothed?" Hermione asked, trying to keep her voice light. Lavender looked even more smug.
"To the Ice Queen? So what?" She shrugged. "I know what he wants."
"I don't think he'd like you spreading this around," Hermione said, straightening. She looked fixedly at the woman on the bed. "But that's what you do best, isn't it, Lav? Spread it around?"
"I spread it for him, that's for sure," Lavender said. "You haven't lived until you've had that blond head between your—"
All the window glass panes behind Hermione suddenly shattered, letting in a harsh, freezing wind from the mountains. Lavender yelped and scrambled behind the bed. Hermione could see herself in the full-length mirror—her face flushed, eyes cold, glass shards on her hair and skin, raising the candlestick like a wand. The curls around her face whipped in the wind, but the rest of her hair didn't budge. She dropped the candlestick and picked up her wand, repairing the glass in an instant, all the shards and bits reassembling themselves. The howling of wind stopped, and the room was silent.
"Merlin!" Lavender popped up from behind the bed. "You're mental! You could have killed us!" Her voice quivered with fear.
Hermione summoned her beaded bag and red cloak and walked calmly toward the door. She turned to look at Lavender, who was still shaking.
"I wish you joy of him," she said coldly. Lavender's eyes filled with tears and she looked down at her bedcovers. Hermione swept out the door without another word.
***
She didn't remember walking down the stairs and through the common room. She didn't remember walking through the portrait hole; it seemed like she was just suddenly in the corridor beside the Fat Lady's portrait and before a smiling Theo.
Apparently, psychotic behavior agreed with her, because he seemed struck by her appearance, his eyes widening. "You, Hermione Granger, are a rare beauty," he said. "I am a lucky man tonight."
Hermione blinked at him, trying to focus, but the blood still pounded in her veins and she could feel her magic crawling up her fingertips. She managed a weak smile, however, and clutched her cloak and bag.
Theo frowned. "Are you all right? You look upset."
"Fight with my roommate," she said. "It's nothing."
"It doesn't look like nothing." He took her hand and led her away from the portrait. "Still alright for dinner?"
She nodded. "I just need to cool down."
"Well, that's easy in this drafty castle." Theo took her along the corridor, eyeing the tapestries until he saw one that fluttered. "Here we are." He pulled aside the tapestry, revealing a small balcony hemmed in by stone. Hermione entered and looked up to see a wide square of grey clouds.
"All this time I didn't know it was here," she breathed, distracted slightly. The cool outside air felt good on her cheeks and neck. She turned to smile at Theo, standing broad and solid with the tapestry dropping behind him. He looked quite dashing—and Slytherin—in a black suit with a green shirt and tie, a rich black cloak slung over one arm.
"You always know what to do," she told him. "How is that?"
"I almost never know what to do," Theo said. "I just know how to appear that I do."
"Yes, you're very good at it," she teased.
"For example," Theo continued in a low, rumbling tone, "I know what I want to do right now, but I'm not sure it's what I should do, because you seem upset, and I'm still not entirely sure you see me that way." He took a step toward her, his hand grazing her bare arm. "Can you advise me, O Brightest Witch of Her Age?"
"I love to give advice," she said. Her blood still thrummed slightly, with Lavender's words ringing in her ears, and Theo's green eyes looking nothing like Harry's. Thank Merlin.
"And what would be your advice?" he asked, bending closer.
"Kiss me," she whispered. Their lips met, and it was sweet and arousing. Theo deepened the kiss, his arms around her, his hands stroking the velvet of her dress, and then the bare skin of her upper back. His cologne, a dark, musky scent, surrounded her. She was flush against his body now, and her bag and their cloaks fell to the stone floor of the balcony, forgotten.
She had expected Theo to stop there, but he was Slytherin, after all, always more ready to ask forgiveness than permission, so she shouldn't have been surprised to find herself gently pressed against the stone wall. One large hand moved to her thigh and slid upwards, while the other tugged down a dress strap as Theo's lips trailed lightly to the soft curve between neck and shoulder. She needed to stop this, but every time she thought of pulling away, Lavender's sneering "I know what he wants" echoed in her head and Hermione found her hands inside Theo's suitcoat, running under his silk shirt.
When her fingers met warm, softly hairy skin, her mind cleared. She didn't want a quick shag in an alcove; she could ruin this if she wasn't careful. Theo's fingers were nearly up to her ... she stepped away, panting. Theo let his hands drop and they stared at each other, both a little stunned.
"Well," Theo said, with a slightly trembling smile. "I'm going to pay your roommate to fight with you before every date from now on."
They both laughed, perhaps a little more than the weak joke deserved, trying to manage the sudden awkwardness. "I'm not ... I don't usually ..." Hermione stuttered.
"I'm not complaining," Theo said, tucking his shirt in and straightening his coat and tie. He cleared his throat. "But perhaps we should go to dinner now."
"Yes," she said, still catching her breath slightly. She pulled up her straps and tugged down her dress. She put a hand to her curls, but Theo hadn't touched her hair, so hopefully she didn't look like a total disheveled slag. She transfigured a bit of stone wall into a mirror to find her makeup still intact as well, requiring only a fresh swipe of lipstick. Theo now looked as impeccable as before, and Hermione couldn't help eyeing him as he handed over her bag and cloak. He was obviously quite adept at such discreet encounters.
Theo took the odd beginning to their date all in stride, keeping up a steady patter of light conversation on the walk to Hogsmeade. Hermione concentrated on not acting like a mental case. By the time they reached The Spangled Veil, she was a bit more relaxed.
The Spangled Veil was a new addition to Hogsmeade, a high-end restaurant replacing a woodcutter's shed destroyed during the war. Much of Hogsmeade had been rebuilt, often to serve a more well-heeled clientele, and Hermione had heard some complaints from locals about the "new, rich blood." She made a mental note to ask Madame Rosmerta and few others about that; it wouldn't do for locals to be priced out of their own village.
But tonight, she enjoyed the opulent surroundings: brocade-covered walls, waterfall chandeliers, lovely views of the Scottish mountains. A ripple ran through the tables as diners turned to see Hermione Granger enter on the arm of a man who obviously wasn't Ron Weasley. Theo was a striking figure in his own right, although not generally known, and Hermione noted witches' speculative glances as they passed.
The atmosphere was almost oppressively posh, and the thought of encountering Malfoy here with Astoria made Hermione stumble slightly, but no, Malfoy couldn't be taking his pureblood princess out to dinner tonight if he was shagging his brainless strumpet in some empty classroom. She stumbled again—good show, there, Hermione. Theo looked at her quizzically, but she made it to their table all right. Good thing she'd never claimed to be graceful.
She was happy to sit back and think about unruffled ponds in Norway as Theo selected a bottle of wine and bantered back and forth with the waiter. Once settled with their orders and their wine, Hermione asked Theo what brought him back to Hogwarts.
He eyed her over his glass of Domaine Rappelé à la Vie. "I was quite conflicted," he said finally. "I didn't plan to return."
"What changed your mind?"
Theo shrugged. "I was in Germany with my grandmother—she has this beautiful Bavarian castle, you'd like it—and I suddenly realized that I would always be an outsider in that country. Britain was my home and any meaningful future was here.
"And to make a future here, I needed to do well on my NEWTs." He winked at her. "So I portkeyed directly to Diagon Alley, didn't even stop at Nott Estate. I bought everything new: trunk, clothes, books, and paid a local to take me to Hogwarts in a wagon."
"That was the day of the Gryffindor party," Hermione said.
He nodded. "I just left my things in the Entrance Hall and went to McGonagall's office. She didn't seem surprised to see me, probably has her ways of knowing things. She sent me to the Slytherin dungeons to bunk with Blaise and Greg. Good thing those two had an extra bed, or they would have put me with Draco."
"Why is that?"
"Draco has his own dorm—no one would room with him."
"Mmmm," Hermione said, sipping her wine. Guess Malfoy doesn't need to sneak around in empty classrooms after all.
"Something wrong?" Theo asked. He touched her hand on the table.
"Oh no," she said. "Of course nobody wants to live with Malfoy."
"Yes, he'll have a hard time changing minds," Theo said, rather indifferently. "People won't forget."
Hermione nodded, looking down at his fingers lightly holding hers on the white tablecloth. His silver signet ring and emerald cufflink glinted in the light of the candles. Her hand and arm were bare, the word "MUDBLOOD" written clearly in red on her inner forearm.
"Nobody should forget what happened, Hermione," Theo said softly, turning her hand slightly to see the scars better. Hermione gently pulled her hand away and placed it on her lap.
"This is a lovely restaurant," she said. "Thank you for bringing me here."
Theo gave her a boyish grin. "My pleasure. You've earned it, slaying the Dragon Lady for my honor." Hermione couldn't help smiling back.
"Whatever Astoria said to you, I'm sure she deserved what she got," he went on.
She sniffed. "I didn't hex her because of what she said. She tried to crucio me."
"She what?"
Hermione took a ragged breath. She hadn't told anyone that. "Please don't tell people." She bit her lip. "Don't tell Malfoy."
"Damn it." His voice rose and other diners were glancing their way. "This is all wrong. We Slytherins need to reenter the entire wizarding world, not just pureblood society, and Astoria attacks a war heroine?" Theo shook his head in disgust. Then a thought occurred to him, and his eyes widened. "Crucio? That's an Unforgivable. She could be arrested for even—"
"Hush now," Hermione said. "I'm fine. I can handle Greengrass." She gave him a hard look. "I'm telling you this in confidence."
"Why can't Draco know?"
"He just can't. Can we please not talk about him?" Hermione shifted uncomfortably.
"Most certainly." Theo leaned back in his chair, still frowning a little. What a strange evening this was turning out to be—would future dates include such wild mood swings?
"Tell me about your grandmother," Hermione said, buttering a small chunk of bread.
"Lady Gretchen?" Theo brightened and launched into a vivid description. His maternal grandmother was more than 100 years old, a great society beauty in her day, and ruled her castle like a queen. She'd sent five specially trained battlewizards to fetch Theo when his father openly joined the Death Eaters, determined that her grandson wouldn't take the Mark. The wizards had literally kidnapped Theo in the dead of night, right out of Nott Estate, and dragged him kicking to Germany.
"I mean, I was grateful, don't get me wrong." Theo sighed. "But it would have been nice to have a choice."
"She did the right thing," Hermione said. "I sent my parents to Australia. They didn't have a choice either." She touched the sapphire at her throat.
"That's a lovely necklace. I was admiring it ... earlier." Theo leaned forward, his eyes taking on a heated look from under heavy dark lashes.
"Birthday gift from my parents."
"Of course. Your birthstone. Mine is ruby." He sat back again as the waiter presented their steaks.
"Ruby? That's not very Slytherin," she teased. "So you know birthstones as well as flowers, then?" she asked, thinking back to the DADA lesson. Only Neville had beaten Theo at reciting that day.
"I know all the birthstones and meanings of flowers and gifts and proper ribbons for messages ..." He grimaced. "My governess." He eyed her hair as she turned away to retrieve a dropped napkin. "That's a lovely hair set. Another birthday gift?"
"Yes," she said simply. Damn that Lavender.
"A rather significant gift," Theo said, his face taking on a cool, appraising look. No trace of a smile.
"No, it's really not," she said, cutting her steak with unnecessary vigor. She was never wearing the diamond set again. She didn't care how good it made her hair look.
They spoke of light topics again after that, giggling over Bluebell's antics in DADA. Dessert was served while Theo was away from the table, which was fine with Hermione. She appreciated the breathing spell, a chance to nibble her cheesecake without having to school her expressions.
Alas, it couldn't last. "Hermione!" called a voice, a deeper version of Ron's. She looked up to see Bill and Fleur Weasley, hand in hand. Fleur glowed in blue silk, drawing every eye in the room. Hermione rose immediately to hug them both.
"'Ou look so beautiful, my dear!" Fleur cried. "Such a lovely dress, and your 'air!" She gasped. "Zose diamonds!" Her blue eyes widened. "Zey are Goblin-make!"
"Wha-what?" Hermione stuttered, reaching up to touch a pin nervously. What had possessed her to wear Malfoy's present tonight? She should have wrapped a scarf around her head!
"Definitely historic, reset in the last century," Bill added, regarding her hair with a professional eye. A treasure hunter for Gringott's, Ron's brother knew jewelry.
"'Ermione!" Fleur breathed.
"Who are you here with?" Bill asked suddenly, the werewolf scars harsh on his face.
"Hello, I'm Theodore Nott," said a voice from behind Hermione.
Bill and Fleur looked startled by the last name, but they rallied instantly. "Good to meet you," Bill said, smiling, shaking Theo's hand. "Bill Weasley, and this is my wife, Fleur."
Hermione could only be grateful that they introduced themselves since she was suddenly incapable of speech. Her mind whirled. Malfoy had given her historic, goblin-made jewelry? No wonder Theo was suspicious!
And now looking at Bill and Fleur's smiling faces, she almost groaned. They obviously believed the diamonds were from Theo, and she couldn't very well correct them. Anything was better than the truth.
"Would you like to join us?" Theo asked, urbane as always.
"Oh no, zank you, you are nearly finit, I see," Fleur said. "We 'ave just arrived."
"Good to meet you, though," Bill said. He kissed Hermione's cheek in an oddly careful way and Fleur kissed both her cheeks before leaving with a final brilliant smile.
"Bill—he's the eldest Weasley boy, yes?" Theo asked as they sat down.
"Yes, he and Fleur were married last year." Hermione was taken suddenly back to the wedding again, but now her waltz with Malfoy was overlaid over the memory. Blinking, she realized that Theo was holding her left hand again.
"You're back," he said quietly.
"I'm sorry." Hermione bit her lip, feeling guilty.
"Don't be sorry. Ever," Theo said, his jaw tight. "I heard what happened when the Ministry fell. The rest of us should be sorry. Getting to know you makes me think ..." he trailed off.
"Think what?" Hermione asked, ever curious.
"Maybe I should have stayed. And fought my father."
"Would you have?" she asked.
"Honestly?" His eyes were a bit sad. "No, I wouldn't have. I'm a Slytherin. Self-preservation."
"People change," Hermione said. "If there's one thing I've learned so far this school term, it's that people change."
He gave her a weak smile. "I'm very glad I came back to Hogwarts." He squeezed Hermione's hand, then leaned over the table and gave her a light kiss on the lips.
"I meant what I said at lunch last weekend," Theo continued, pouring them more wine. He sat back in his chair, glass in hand. "About setting my own future. Thanks to my father and uncles, the Nott name is synonymous with Death Eater, but that will change. Ab ipso ferro," he said, and his signet ring glowed for an instant.
"Ab ipso ferro?" Hermione repeated.
"'From the Same Iron,'" Theo said. "A bit of luck there. When trying to redeem one's name, it helps when the family motto makes no sense at all."
Theo winked and Hermione couldn't help but smile back. It certainly beat "Purity Will Always Conquer."
They were a little quiet, walking back hand in hand, and Hermione felt like sighing. No matter how much they tried to make this a fun date, darker things kept creeping in.
"I'd like to try again," Theo said finally. "Another dinner."
"This was lovely," she said. "Just a little ... intense."
Theo turned to face her, standing in the dark path with nobody around and a huge moon above. "I refuse to give up," he said. "There are two incredibly frivolous people inside us just crying to get out."
She laughed, and he put a cool hand to her cheek, bending to kiss her again. She responded, their kisses full of wine and softness. He pulled her closer, and his lips brushed her eyelids, then her ear.
"Hermione," Theo whispered, lips moving higher into her hair, his hand at her waist, drawing her closer. "Mmmm ... Hermione, come with me ... ah!" He hissed and pulled away.
"Theo?" Hermione's eyes popped open. Theo's other hand was pressed against his forehead. He removed his fingers, revealing a thin streak of blood, black in the bright moonlight.
Hermione drew her wand and healed the wound instantly. "I'm so sorry—I don't know what happened." Although she now had a strong suspicion; she had definitely felt a hairpin move that time. Malfoy ...
Theo frowned and wiped his forehead with a handkerchief. "Nothing to apologize for," he said, tucking the square of cloth into his pocket. He moved closer again. 'Such a dangerous girl," he purred. "I'll just be more careful."
Hermione stepped back. "We don't need to rush anything," she said. "I was a little ... heated earlier."
Theo nodded and took her hand with a smile. "Of course." They walked on, and Hermione concentrated on managing her breathing.
"Every roommate has her price, you know," Theo said conversationally as they neared the castle. "I intend to find out hers."
Notes:
NEXT UP: Hermione has drinks with Pansy Parkinson.