Chapter 8
“Are you sure you want to do this, Granger?”
Hermione tightened her grip around his fingers and gave him an innocent smile.
“Do what?”
Theo arched a brow. “Go in there with a Slytherin at your arm? They’ll stare. And judge.”
“And we care because…?”
“I don’t give a flying fuck about anyone’s opinion other than yours, but I don’t want you to be under the spotlight again,” he said, concern laced in his words, his fingers caressing hers.
Hermione felt warmth slither in her chest. “They will stare, yes, but it won’t last long, you’ll see. And as for the judging,” she added with a smirk, tugging him through the doors of the Great Hall, “I’ll make sure to give them something juicy.”
Theo looked confused, but followed her along. They strode through the tables, hand in hand, Hermione radiant in her careless happiness. She didn’t seem to notice the furtive glances people sent their way, whispering and gossiping under their breaths. A few Slytherin girls took in their intertwined fingers with horrified grimaces and a couple of Gryffindor looked dumbfounded. Hermione had spotted Neville and Ginny sitting at the far end of the Gryffindor table and was heading in their direction, when she stopped in her tracks and whipped around to face him. Her warm eyes locked with his, a playful smile on her maddeningly beautiful lips.
Without leaving his hand, she pushed on her tip toes and reached for his mouth, kissing him slowly and pressing her body into his frame. On instinct, his free arm snaked around her waist and pulled her closer, his lips responding to her delicious request.
The Great Hall held its breath, audibly surprised. Theo leaned a bit more into the kiss and smiled into her lips. Something juicy, uh? He slid his tongue gently in and his hand travelled a bit lower on her back. Someone whistling and a couple of giggles broke the silence, the heaviness washing away. The usual rustle of breakfast came back all at once and Hermione pulled away.
“I told you it wouldn’t last long,” she mumbled, her lashes fluttering. “A war puts everything into a new perspective,” she added with a melancholy twist in her eyes.
Theo raised a hand to cup her cheek and pecked her lips again.
“I’m a big fan of this perspective,” he whispered.
Hermione smiled, her gaze lost in his blue irises, wondering if she could finally lower the walls around her heart and stop living in fear, now that she had Theo by her side.
“Hey, lovebirds!” Ginny yelled, breaking her train of thoughts. “Do you want some pancakes? ‘Cause they’re almost over. Neville’s belly’s an endless pit this morning!”
“I didn’t eat that many!” Neville countered, his cheeks ruby red.
“Isn’t that your third helping?” Dean asked, a teasing smile pulling at his mouth.
Hermione shook her head and Theo chuckled. They shared a look and he gently tugged her towards her friends. “Come on, I do want some pancakes.”
She let him guide her to the table, only managing a nod, too busy fighting her tears of joy.
********
Theo looked up from his Muggle novel and let his eyes wander around the cozy room one more time, mesmerized by it. Hermione had taken him to the Room of Requirement after the library had closed that night, and had conjured the perfect hideaway for them to read together in tranquility. The fire was cracking merrily in the gigantic hearth before the plushy sofa they were huddled on. All around them, the walls were covered in bookshelves, loaded with books and manuscripts and treaties of all types. A small coffee table beside the sofa held two auto-refilling cups of smoldering hot tea and a tray covered in crumbs of cookies long eaten.
He tipped his head a little in her lap, studying her intent face in the yellow light of the fire, flames painting shadows and sparks on her soft features. Hermione twirled one of his dark locks around a finger, her eyes traveling on the page of an ancient tome floating before her. He sighed, his scalp tickling from the gentle tugging, the skin of her hand grazing his cheekbone now and then. He could do that forever. He could stay like that forever, with her, in that room away from the entire universe. Just books, endless tea and the heat of the fire, he would survive purely on her scent and her warmth, drinking her in with his eyes, for eternity.
Her lips tugged up. “You find it boring, don’t you?”
Theo couldn’t look away from her lips. “Mmh?”
Hermione abandoned her book and found his eyes. “Cloud Atlas. Do you find it boring? You’re not reading.”
“I think it’s amazing, actually, but it seems my eyes can’t stay away from you for too long,” he said, reaching up to trail a finger down her cheek. Hermione blushed and caught his hand, guiding it fully on the side of her face, leaning in his touch and closing her eyes.
“I’ve always loved watching you read. Your face…one can read the book through your face, it’s marvelous,” he confessed, caressing her jaw and neck.
Hermione moaned, her eyes still closed. “And how many books have you read through me?”
Theo’s hand stilled, his heart galloping in his chest. Had she figured it out?
Hermione cracked one eye open and peered at him, timidly studying his parted lips and slightly panicked gaze. After all, she was the smartest person he’d ever met and he hadn’t been very subtle, accosting her and trying to get close to her since the start of the year. He had practically been hitting on her through books and school assignments. He would have thought it lame and extremely nerdy if she hadn’t been Hermione Granger.
“Probably six school years worth of them,” he mumbled, drawing a circle on her jaw. Her eyes widened just a fraction, before she pushed her fingers in his hair.
“Really? Did you…like me back in First year, already?” she asked.
She sounded skeptical, as if no one in their right mind could have liked her eleven-year-old self. He remembered her being swotty and uptight in classes, of course, but he also remembered her big doe eyes full of wonder when they’d entered the Great Hall for the first time, and her concerned look when the Sorting Hat wouldn’t choose a House for her straightaway. And most of all, he remembered her lonely in the library, daunted sighs escaping her lips when she thought no one was around.
Theo had wanted to approach her and talk to her, more than anything. He had wanted to sooth her sadness, to tell her it was okay if no one seemed to understand her, because it’s difficult to comprehend something special. He had wanted to tell her that he understood. But things had been difficult at the time, with his father alive and raging, with Slytherin friends brainwashed by their families into thinking that muggle-borns were unworthy of magic, let alone their respect. And as time passed, things had got heavier and more difficult, and the distance had seemed uncrossable. Theo had observed her grow into a woman, he had secretly stolen glimpses of her smiles, scraps of something that could have been.
He simply gave her his one-sided grin. “That first day on Platform 93/4, I was already on the train, watching others hug their parents goodbye. I missed my mum so much, and I was beginning to forget how it felt like to by hugged like that. Then I spotted you, hugging your parents with a big smile. But your hands were shaking. And when you turned to the train, you took the biggest breath I’ve ever seen, pushing your chest out so dramatically,” he said, his eyes twinkling with the memory.
“How do you even remember that?” she asked, awed.
Theo shrugged. “Maybe you’ll find it creepy, but…I remember everything about you, Granger. Something I’ll forever regret is not having enough balls to become your friend right away.”
She was silent for a while, stroking his cheek. Something in his words had struck a cord in her soul he didn’t understand yet, but a faint sadness darkened her gaze.
“It’s not creepy. It’s sweet and precious,” she whispered, but he could see the glimmer of unshed tears in the dim light.
“Hey,” he said, sitting up and cupping her face. Her lips were trembling.
“I’m sorry I didn’t see you, Theo,” she stammered, a tear rolling down her cheek and onto his thumb.
“You see me now, Hermione. I couldn’t ask for more,” he assured, resting his forehead on hers. She sobbed and he enveloped her in his arms. Hermione buried her head in his chest, crying quietly. Somehow, in the grieving curve of her shoulders, in the silent falling of her tears, he saw his mourning, his resigned guilt for not saving his mother.
“What happened to your parents?” he gently asked, when her body stopped shaking against his. Slowly, Hermione turned in his arms, resting her cheek on his collar, her nose grazing his throat.
“Before going Horcrux hunting with Harry and Ron, I had to protect them. They were easy targets, I couldn’t rely on the Order to hide them. So, I…” her voice cracked. Hermione sobbed again, then swallowed a fresh wave of tears.
“I obliviated them, wiped myself from their minds and made them believe they were someone else. They moved to Australia, they’re still there,” she stammered out, dragging a hand on her eyes to dry them, with little success.
Theo didn’t know what to say to that. She had sacrificed everything for a world that hadn’t even accepted her entirely. What could he say to that?
“Have you tried to…” he started, but she shook her head.
“I talked to every doctor in St. Mungo, and in Europe as well, and they all say it’s too dangerous to try and reverse that big of an obliviation. Their minds could…collapse.” The last word was barely a whisper. Theo pulled her closer and kissed the top of her head.
“There,” she said, her voice less shaky now. “Something else we have in common, uh? Alone against the world.”
Theo inhaled deeply. Her parents were alive, but she was mourning them just like he still mourned his mother. He put a finger under her chin and gently pushed her up to meet his eyes. Shadows twirled in her chocolate pools, grief an ominous presence that tamed her wild spark. He wanted to do anything to stoke her fire and keep her flames growing higher and higher. And he would, at all costs. He promised himself he would.
“We’re not alone, now.”