*
There's no letters on Christmas. Not while Theodore's father remains imprisoned in Azkaban.
He decides to put it out of his mind and roam the second-floor corridor, looking at a familiar brown bush of hair.
"Oi!, Oi, Granger!"
For a moment, Hermione's expression darkens while turning towards the yell.
She recognises him, Theodore supposes. She must.
It's followed by a politely mannered: "Theodore Nott... is there something you need?"
Clearing his throat, Theodore holds out a long, unknotted scarf.
Hermione's eyes flick to it.
"You left this..." he says, more awkwardly than Theodore means to, "...behind in the library, I mean."
A faint furrow of her brow.
"No, it doesn't belong to me," Hermione utters, loosening her clutch on the books in Hermione's arms. Likely for N.E.W.T. study.
Theodore quickly pulls back, avoiding eye contact.
"My fault, then... I noticed the colours were Gryffindor, yours, and I assumed..."
When silence thickens the tension, he considers fleeing. Right downstairs. Maybe skip the Christmas feast entirely. Most returning students head home during winter break. Theodore goes between couches and guest beds, usually at Malfoy Manor's, while not attending school.
Mum, dead... Father, a convicted Death Eater and left nothing to his son but a miserable memory of blood-hatred ruling out any good sense...
Finally, Theodore notices as Hermione's hand reaches out. For the scarf?
"Thank you," Hermione says, accepting the deep gold-and-ruby coloured scarf when Theodore's fingers lightly push it into her hold. "On behalf of whoever it may belong to... I'm sure they will appreciate it. I can take this to the Gryffindor Common Room and leave a note."
He scrunches his large, overly freckled nose. Theodore's manner dismissive.
"Leave me out of it..." comes a mutter.
Tutting softly, Hermione peers curiously over him. Of course it is preferable to her hatred.
"Are you coming to the Great Hall?"
"... Are you?"
She nods.
"My parents are gone," Hermione admits aloud, her eyes visibly glassing with unshed tears. Maybe she doesn't know it. Theodore's chest feels like it pounds in anticipation. "I would rather have some company this Christmas than spent it alone... if you wouldn't mind, Theodore."
Unsure of what to do, or say, Theodore watches in confusion as Hermione holds out the Gryffindor scarf, as Theodore did before.
He hesitantly touches the scarf-end.
Grips it.
Doesn't let go as Hermione starts to smilingly walk on, leading them.
*