Chapter 9
November rains were raging in the Scottish countryside, thunders rumbling like angry giants in the sky. The booming reverberated against the walls, echoing in the shadows of the library. Ginny jumped in her sit, her freshly sharpened quill tearing the parchment.
“For fuck’s sake,” she mumbled, reaching for her wand to repair the jagged gash. Neville smiled beside her, turning a page in his Herbology book.
“Bit nervous, eh?” he teased, his eyes glued on the detailed drawing of a weird water plant.
“You’d be as well, if you had to play a match in this weather,” she retorted, testing the repaired parchment with her finger.
“Maybe it’ll stop for tomorrow,” Hermione mused, but wasn’t really convinced herself. The sky had been gushing heavy drops and fiery thunders for almost a week now and it didn’t look like letting up.
Ginny made a disgruntled sound and scratched the paper gently. The tip of the quill went right through it and she growled. On the opposite side of the table, Theo sighed and flicked his wand, still focused on his reading. The tear stitched up evenly.
“Breathe, Weasley,” he said, “I’ll teach you a waterproofing spell you can cast on your team’s heads, so you can see better in the rain.”
Ginny’s jaw dropped, her eyes rounds as saucers. “Really?”
“Mmh mmh,” he mumbled, underlying an important piece of information in his book. Hermione glanced his way with an adoring smile.
Ginny grinned. “I owe you, Nott!”
Theo waved a hand in the air. “Your team is a disaster, they’ll end up in the hospital wing if you don’t take precautions.”
Ginny deflated, her shoulders sagging. “Yeah, well, the hospital wing would still be a victory, to be honest.”
Hermione was about to comfort her, when they heard steps approaching. A very small, very mousy first-year stopped at their table, a stack of envelopes in her miniature hands.
“Can we help you?” Neville asked gently.
The girl nodded, a concentrated look puckering her face. “I have messages for you from Professor Slughorn. Here,” she said, extracting four envelopes and juggling the rest in one hand. Neville took them and she quickly walked away, disappearing around the corner without a backward glance.
Neville looked down at the missives, reading the names written in emerald green ink and a flourish calligraphy.
“There’s one each,” he said, handing them over the table. Theo looked up from his book, a brow arched, and took his. Hermione cracked the seal and unfolded the parchment. Ginny groaned, while scanning the content.
“I thought he was done with this shit,” the redhead said, folding the message in half with an exasperated grimace.
Hermione frowned, taking in the details. “Back to his collection, it seems. I have a feeling this year will be quite the Christmas party, with all the war heroes he’ll have to invite.”
Neville scoffed. “Killing a giant snake is what it takes to get one of this, uh?”
Theo stared them. “I confess it doesn’t happen a lot, but I have to admit I am confused here.”
Ginny rolled her eyes at his not-really-concealed lack of humbleness. “Slughorn likes to collect bonds with famous or brilliant people. He throws dinners and parties, invites them and brings them together to create successful connections.”
“Which usually benefits him as well, often in the form of favors, gifts and free stuff,” Hermione added, setting aside her invitation.
“Hermione and I were in the collection, two years ago. Zabini was, as well,” Ginny told him. Theo remembered his fellow Slytherin mentioning it, now that he thought about it.
“And I was chosen as staff to serve Dragon Balls at the Christmas party,” Neville said, bitterly.
“So, you upgraded, Longbottom,” Theo smirked, then turned to Hermione. “Okay then, you’re all war heroes. Why am I receiving an invite?”
Ginny laughed. “Fishing for compliments, Nott?”
“You’re smart, Theo. Slughorn always praises your abilities in class. Besides, he probably knows what you did last year in America, if McGonagall shared it with the other teachers,” Hermione said.
Neville cocked his head. “What did you do?”
Theo glanced to Hermione’s friends, interest peaking on their faces. She hadn’t told them his secrets, even if Ginny was probably her best female friend and Neville was very close to her heart. He looked back at her, words tangled in his throat. He still found it difficult to admit his role in the war, especially to accept it had been as valuable as theirs.
Hermione smiled at him and reached for his hand under the table. She gently stroked his fingers, warmth traveling up his arm and to his chest.
“He helped his aunt extract Muggle-borns from here and hide them in America,” she said to her friends, pride dripping from every word. Ginny’s lips parted and her eyes found his, surprise mixed with something else.
Neville frowned. “Who is your aunt?”
“Lara Shafiq,” he said, talking around the knot in his throat. Her aunt smiling, with her dark, deep eyes sparkling in the sun, flashed in his mind without warning and his heart squeezed in his chest. She had saved his life and he missed her like his mother. Some days even more.
Ginny gasped. “I saw her fight, here in the castle! She was a wonder!” she whispered, her gaze alight. Then, the corners of her mouth pulled down.
“I’m sorry for your loss, Theo,” she added, her cheeks drained of color. Theo nodded, remembering the redhead had lost close people as well. One of her twin brothers, if he was correct. She knew what it was like to lose, to not have time to say goodbye.
He searched her eyes. “I’m sorry for your brother, Ginny.”
She seemed taken aback by the fact he had known, or maybe by his words or the use of her given name, Theo didn’t know. But her shock gave way to a steal gleam that resembled respect. Neville spoke then, his voice sure and solemn.
“Thank you for helping, Theo. People live and are safe because of your actions.”
Theo swallowed, staring into Neville’s eyes. There was a suffering there that he hadn’t spotted before. A deep gash in his soul that was usually hidden behind a jovial demeanor and friendly openness. Theo realized that Neville, like himself, wore a mask, even if a different one in crafting. But they were both stashing away a pain that couldn’t be told.
Hermione sniffed quietly beside him and he glanced her way. She was wiping a stray tear from her cheek but was smiling at them. He tightened his grip on her fingers and lifted a corner of his mouth.
“Tell me more about that stunt you pulled on Noseless Prick’s pet, Longbottom. Sounds like a great story.”
*******
“I have absolutely nothing to wear to that stupid party,” Ginny groaned, pulling clothes from her trunk and sending them flying across the room. Hermione was sitting on her bed, examining a pleated skirt that didn’t look bad, while Luna was cross-legged on the floor, her wand tucked behind her ear, folding what looked like a long sleeved woolen dress, that Ginny had already discarded.
“Me neither, if it makes you feel better,” Hermione said, lifting another piece of clothing from off the bed.
Ginny threw her hands up. “Actually it makes me feel worse, because I cannot borrow anything from you! Harry is coming as well, I wanted to be cute for him…” she added, closing the trunk with a snap and sitting on it.
“Maybe we can go shopping in Hogsmeade. I bet we can find something,” Luna suggested, her dreamy eyes shining.
Hermione pursed her lips. “The next Hogsmeade visit is the day before the party, it’s too late. If we don’t find anything, we won’t have any other option.”
Ginny sighed. “Isn’t there any legendary wardrobe hidden in some stupid dungeon here, that gives you whatever dress you desire?”
Hermione sat up straighter. “I have an idea!”
Ginny whipped around, her mouth hanging open. “The wardrobe is real?”
“No, it isn’t, but I think we can have something better. Follow me!” Hermione said, jumping down the bed and heading for the door.
“We should ask Hannah if she wants to come as well. Neville invited her,” Luna mused, getting up and brushing her skirt. Ginny grinned, not so surprised. Neville and Hannah Abbott, uh? They made sense, Hermione thought.
“Ah-a! So it’s her mangling the poor bastard’s neck!”
Hermione laughed, remembering the hickey on Neville’s neck weeks before. He had gotten better at hiding them with Theo’s spell, but at the beginning it hadn’t lasted long and the shadow of the bruise had peeked through the glamour, much to Ginny’s satisfaction. She had taunted him so much, Neville had avoided her for days.
“Let’s get Hannah, then. Girls’ night!” she smiled.
******
“Hermione, you are a fucking genius,” Ginny whispered, looking around the Room of Requirement, eyes as big as moons. The room had transformed into a clothes boutique for the occasion, racks upon racks of dresses covering the walls. A giant wardrobe full of shoes and accessories gleamed in the back of the room. The floor was carpeted, soft and plushy under their feet. In the center, there were stuffed armchairs and small coffee tables covered in tiny pastries for them to snack on, while trying on clothes. On the far corner of the room, beside the accessories wardrobe, there were wooden screens they could use to change behind and try on outfits.
“I’ve never seen so many dresses all together,” Hannah whispered, her cheeks rosy with excitement. Luna twirled around and giggled, her arms held out wide, a content smile on her dreamy face.
“You think we can keep them? Won’t they disappear outside the Room?” Ginny wondered, palming a black gown with an embroidered corset, the silver thread drawing galaxies from the plunging neckline to the stomach and waistband.
“I took a book from the Room weeks ago and it’s still in my dorm. So, my theory is that, since the Room draws its magic from Hogwarts itself, the objects coming from it won’t disappear, as long as they stay within the perimeter of the castle’s grounds,” Hermione explained, rifling through a rack of colorful cocktail dresses, her fingers brushing tulle and satin, sequins and laces.
Ginny’s eyes widened for a second, then a big grin split her face. “I’m going to choose the most outrageously expensive-looking dress that’s in here!”
Hermione laughed, loud and rich, echoed by Hannah and Luna. Sometimes life could be just giddy. And oh, how good in felt deep down in her soul!
*****
“Harry’s going to have a heart attack when he sees you in that dress,” Hermione chuckled, nodding to the long gown Ginny was clutching to her chest while they climbed the stairs to Gryffindor Tower hours later. They had tried on so many dresses their arms and legs hurt as if they’d been running a marathon, but the smiles on their faces spoke volumes.
Ginny smirked. “He’s going to stammer and blush like a first-year, uh?”
Hermione covered her mouth with a hand, muffling a snort of laughter, echoing a bit too loud in the empty corridor.
“Don’t you laugh like that, Missy. You’ll have your own problems. Theo is going to drag you away from the party and tear that emerald green number from your body before his second glass of champagne,” Ginny declared, waving a pair of heels in her direction.
“So dramatic!” she snorted.
Ginny arched a brow. “Bet?”
Hermione chuckled, shaking her head, and turned the corner. There, pacing before the The Fat Lady, was Neville, his eyes cast on the floor. He whipped his head when he heard them giggle and rushed towards them.
“Hermione! I’ve been looking for you all over the castle!” he told her, brows drawn together in worry. He had a scratch on the cheek and a bruise on his forehead that was already fading.
Hermione halted, her blood running cold. “Neville, what happened? Where’s Theo?”
Before going to the Room of Requirements, she’d met him in the Great Hall, told him about the girls’ night. He’d stroked her cheek and wished her to have fun, while he helped Neville with his Charms problems in the library. She looked around the empty corridor, almost expecting Theo to appear out of thin air, and when he didn’t, she felt dread coil into her stomach.
“What happened?” she asked again, her free hand reaching for Neville’s forearm, gripping him like a vice. She felt Ginny next to her, her warmth steading her spinning head.
“He’s okay, really. But he’s in the hospital wing,” Neville said, slowly covering her white knuckles with his big hand.
Hermione shuddered, a pained sound escaping her throat. Ginny took the dress from her arm and squeezed her shoulder.
“Go, I’ll take care of this,” she said, her brown eyes strong and comforting.
Without hesitation, Hermione turned around and ran down the corridor, taking the stairs two at a time, the portraits’ rebukes a blur of colors and muffled sounds around her. Neville was right behind, she could hear his foots slapping on the stone floors, but all she could focus on was Theo, in the hospital wing. Hurt. Suddenly, memories of the war, of the wreckage and destruction of the final battle, of the mangled bodies and bloodied wounds she’d witnessed, came careening down on her and her lungs constricted. Tears of fear prickled at her eyelashes but she refused to spill them. Theo would be fine, the war was over. Whatever had happened, he would be fine.
When they finally reached the oak doors of the infirmary, Hermione pushed them with all her might and stormed inside, her chest heaving.
Theo was sitting on a bed, his robe and vest discarded. His tie was missing as well, the top button of his shirt left open. There were small, red staines on the tips of his collar. Blood. His head hung forward, dark locks falling messily onto his eyes, focused on his hand in his lap. His shirt sleeves were bunched up and she could make out cuts and bruises on his knuckles.
“Theo,” Hermione whispered and he looked up. She gasped, taking in his split lip and swollen cheekbone. She run to him, falling hard on her knees, between his legs. She reached up to his face, trembling fingers grazing his wounded skin.
“What happened to your face?” she asked, concern lacing her voice.
Theo smirked. He smirked, his dimple making a mocking appearance.
“You should see the other one’s,” he teased, smoothing her frowning lips with his thumb.
Neville snorted in the background. “There isn’t much left to look at.”
Hermione’s eyes widened, head whipping towards Neville. “For fuck’s sake, will you two explain what happened?”
“I couldn’t have said it better, Miss Granger.”
Minerva McGonagall strode into the infirmary, her head held high, a sterne gaze piercing them from behind her tiny glasses balanced on her straight nose. Her lips were a thin, firm line, and she didn’t look pleased. At all.
She halted at the foot of Theo’s bed and stared him. “Madam Pomfrey sent for me. I’d appreciate an explanation for your behavior, Mr Nott and Mr Longbottom.”
Neville flinched a little but took a step forward, straightening his spine. “We were attacked outside the library, Headmistress. Three Slytherin fifth-year, Voldemort’s sympathizers I’d say.”
“Define attacked, Longbottom,” McGonagall pushed.
Theo remained silent, his blue eyes, darker in the candlelight of the hospital wing, fixed on the Headmistress. Hermione noticed his hands closing into fists in his lap and she reached for him.
“We were turning the corner, when one of them used the Cruciatus. Theo was quick to deflect it. We dueled in self defense, Headmistress,” Neville explained, his eyes briefly flitting to Theo, pride plain in his gaze. Hermione saw the camaraderie hanging in the air between them and felt a jolt of relief in her chest. Theo had been alone for too much time, never really close to his Slytherin friends. He had told her he’d always felt invisible, misunderstood, the weird one. Seeing how her friends liked him and accepted him for who he really was, made her heart tremble.
“From what Madam Pomfrey told me, one of the attackers has been beaten to a pulp. Is that what you call self-defense?” McGonagall asked, her expression unreadable.
“Neville’s not responsible for that, Headmistress. I am,” Theo said, his voice calm, despite his body was buzzing with restrained energy.
“And what, in Merlin’s name, elicited that brute behavior, Mr Nott?”
A muscle jumped in Theo’s jaw, teeth gritting tight. “He insulted Hermione. Heavily.”
Hermione’s lips parted in surprise. “What?”
McGonagall lips became even thinner. “What did he say?”
“I am not going to repeat it. She doesn’t need to hear it,” Theo deadpanned, eyes like chips of ice.
“It’s okay, Theo, I’ve heard it all, it doesn’t matter,” she assured, squeezing his fists gently. But he shook his head and opened his hands, turning his palms up to take hers in his.
“You have enough nightmares already, princess. If I can spare you more, I will,” he whispered, meeting her watery gaze. There was so much care and love in his irises she forgot how to breathe.
“It’s true, Headmistress,” Neville interjected. “I’ve never heard so much venom before, and I lived with the Carrows for a year.”
McGonagall exhaled from her nose, the lines around her mouth softening slightly. “All right, I trust your words. Still, violence is not tolerated here, Mr Nott. I hope you understand it.”
Theo looked back at her, holding his head up with cold determination.
“I do, and I’ll face my punishment, Headmistress. But I hope you understand that if they get near my girlfriend next time, I won’t shy away from a repeat,” he said, muscles pulsing under his skin. Hermione could feel the heat coming in waves from his tense body. She had never seen him fight, but all the pent up rage she could sense cursing in his veins gave her a pretty good idea of what he would look like. And it didn’t scare her one bit. It thrilled her instead, somehow.
McGonagall’s jaw set. “There won’t be a next time, Mr Nott, I can assure you. As for your detention,” she said, her eyes trailing towards Hermione for a split second, still kneeling before him, fingers intertwined with his. “The books in my office need a thorough inventory and a neat reshelving. You’ll take care of that, every night after dinner, until you’re done.”
Hermione sighed in relief, her body loosening. Theo nodded, keeping his lips from twitching up, while Neville plainly grinned beside them.
“Thank you, Headmistress,” Theo said.
The sterne woman gave him a nod. “Mr Longbottom can help you for the first week, isn’t it right?”
Neville groaned silently. “Of course, Headmistress.”
“Very well. I’ll see you tonight in front of the gryphon statue at nine,” she said briskly, then looked at Hermione, a spark in her eagle eyes, and she swore she saw a corner of her favorite teacher’s mouth lift up, before she turned.
“Now, go back to your dorms, I have to take care of those three idiots,” she said, taking out her wand and walking down the line of beds. When she disappeared behind a curtain, Neville sighed in relief.
“That was a narrow one. It could have been so much worse…” he was saying, but Theo and Hermione were lightyears away, eyes locked, speaking a silent language made of oceans and fires.
“Girlfriend, uh?” she whispered, Nevilles babbling echoing in the background. Theo smiled shyly, enveloping her hands in his bruised ones.
“Too fast?”
Hermione chuckled. “I was wondering when you were going to ask.”
Theo arched a brow. “It wasn’t a question, though. Do you want me to ask properly?”
She shook her head and pushed her face up, reaching his lips carefully. “No need, you know the answer.”