Chapter 9
Hermione smiled to herself as she made her way back to her dormitory, the signup sheet clutched in her right hand. Despite Harry’s nerves and the initially rather intrusive questions from some of the Hufflepuffs regarding Cedric’s death, the meeting had been an overall success.
27 people had showed up, and all of them had signed up, their spirits rather eager by the end at the mention of the possibility of learning how to produce their own Patronuses.
Harry in particular was in an exceptionally good mood, probably due to a certain pretty Asian Ravenclaw witch in attendance.
Entering her room, she sighed cheerfully as she plopped onto her bed, making sure to fold up the parchment carefully and return it to her beaded bag as she did so.
They still had to find a suitable place to congregate before their first proper session next Saturday, but there was plenty of time to do that, and she wanted to take the evening off to focus on the growing pile of homework that she’d uncharacteristically pushed off, having been rather distracted by the excitement of the past week.
She surveyed the books on her bed before deciding to work on Umbridge’s ridiculous assignment first. The homework was a 5-foot-long essay on the importance of health and safety countermeasures regarding the use of magic in the workplace, the instructions listing almost 6 dreadfully boring textbooks that she had yet to check out from the library.
Sighing dejectedly, she allowed herself to enjoy a few more minutes lounging on her bed, before picking herself up to head to the library. The boys were at Quidditch practise, so this would have to be a solo endeavour, not that she minded terribly. The homework was going to be torturously long to complete as it was, and she could do without Ron’s incessant questions and Harry’s disgruntled moaning about the uselessness of the task at hand. It wasn’t that she disagreed with him, but she was still Hermione Granger, and stupid assignment or not, that was no reason for her to skimp out on the quality of work that was to be marked by a Professor.
…
Finding a quiet corner in the back of the library, she immediately began to busy herself with the first heavy textbook on the codes of conduct for Ministry health and safety legislation.
She was halfway through the torturous book, yawning to herself as she dutifully scribbled down her notes, when the scraping of the chair opposite her made her look up in surprise.
“Granger” the unfamiliar voice greeted her. The tall, lean figure of the handsome dark-haired wizard loomed over her briefly as he moved in to take a seat, and Hermione’s eyes immediately narrowed, taking in the unwelcome guest.
They had never spoken, but Hermione recognised the Slytherin wizard from their many classes shared together over the years. Theodore Nott was a good student, often coming close to besting her in quite a number of their classes, and he wasn’t a member of the bullish cronies that followed Malfoy everywhere like a devoted fan club, but he was still a Slytherin, and her instinct was to treat him with distrust. It was also an open secret that Nott Sr had been one of Voldemort’s followers, although somehow, probably with his vast wealth and pureblood connections, he had gotten away with barely a slap on the wrist from the Ministry following the First Wizarding War.
“Nott.” She responded stiffly, “I didn’t realise the library was at full capacity.”
The wizard smirked at her, reclining back on his chair as he glanced her over with a bemused chuckle. “Brains, beauty and a charming personality to boot. Tell me Granger, why haven’t we had the pleasure of getting acquainted earlier?”
Hermione snorted derisively in response. “Probably because your kind make it a business not to dare sully yourselves talking to anyone outside your precious pureblood circle.”
Nott placed a hand over his chest in mock offensive, flashing his teeth as he grinned. “My kind, Granger? Do you mean the devastatingly handsome and incredibly wealthy?”
Hermione huffed, rolling her eyes.
Great, another egocentric narcissist.
Nott was handsome, she’d acquiesce that much. His looks were much less polished than the other Slytherin purebloods, his dark hair falling over his forehead in a mass of careless curls, and his uniform less fitted, his tie hanging loose from the collar of his slightly oversized shirt that peaked through the bottom of his jumper, untucked. But he still carried himself with the same aristocratic haughtiness as Malfoy, his signet ring still gleamed in the light, showing off the signature sheen of high-quality goblin silver, and his green eyes still glinted with the same sly Slytherin mischief. His unkempt style was merely a performance, a look purposefully tailored to appear more harmless, less intentional, than his reality.
“I’m busy, Nott. Go bother some other witch with your abundant ego,” she muttered, turning back to her books.
“My ego’s not the only thing that’s abundant.” Nott winked at her, making her scowl in annoyance.
“I swear to Morgana’s left-“
Before she could finish her well-practised curse, compliments to Fred Weasley, Nott cut her off, waving a dismissive hand.
“As much as I’d love to engage in further verbal foreplay with you, Granger, I’m actually here to talk more serious business, but I can wait, I usually get my work done before the weekend.” He smirked, “Please, continue reading.”
He sat calmly, inspecting his perfectly manicured nails, seemingly completely unbothered by Hermione’s growing irritation.
Finally, after a few minutes of trying and failing to concentrate on Civil Code 4.5 of the Ministry’s guidance on ‘leaving at least 4 feet between you and the next person before you draw your wand in the office’, Hermione gave up, and sighing loudly, she slammed her book shut, earning her a few angry hisses and shushes from around her.
“What?” she snarled, glaring up at Nott.
“Oh perfect, done already?” he teased, flashing her another grin. “You must teach me how to read so quickly sometime. Umbridge’s reading assignments have me falling asleep just thinking about it.”
“Get to your point or I’m leaving, Nott” she gritted out through her teeth.
“Fine, fine.” He sighed dramatically, leaning forward. “I just wanted to give you a heads up really.”
Hermione quirked a brow, still scowling at him.
“About what?”
“About Altaire.” He said, in a matter-of-fact tone.
“What about her?” she asked, curiosity suddenly gripping her.
“Stay away from her, Granger.” He said simply. His tone was still teasingly light, but his words had a bite to them, his eyes narrowing slightly as he stared into hers.
“How is it any of your business who I talk to?” she retorted, crossing her arms over her chest.
“It is when it involves her.” His voice was dangerously calm, and Hermione gulped involuntarily.
“What’s she to you?” she bit out, matching his stare.
“Everything.” He responded, leaning back into his chair as he did.
Hermione blinked in surprise. For a second, Theodore Nott’s face was void of his confident demeanour, and his face almost betrayed vulnerability, before he quickly recovered himself, flashing her another cold smirk.
“She’s my best friend’s little sister. I grew up with her and she’s as good as family. Mess with her again and I’ll make sure it’s the last thing you do.” He whispered, his barely audible amongst the sound of turning pages and footsteps littering the library. His voice felt like quiet poison, seeping over her skin.
“I’m not messing with her, and I can talk to whoever I please Nott. Threaten me again, and I’ll make sure it’s the last thing you do.” She hissed back, trying to convey equal venom in her own voice as she glared back at him.
Nott smiled at her, his lips curling up slowly in a reptilian manner. “No need to get testy, Granger. I’m not threatening you. I’m just giving you a friendly warning. Stick to your own friends. Altaire is not yours to get to know.”
Hermione almost shuddered at his possessive tone. Nott was dangerous. She’d never given much thought to him before. He was quiet in class, mostly keeping to himself. But now, she could feel the silent darkness of his magic exuding from the wizard. His stillness felt more threatening than when Malfoy had grabbed her by the staircase a few nights ago, and it unsettled her. He was trouble.
“Altaire is a big girl. If she doesn’t want to know me, she can decide that for herself,” she concluded, staring defiantly back at him. Before he could respond, she drew her wand, swiftly gathering her belongings into her rucksack and rose from her seat. “We’re done here.” She cast one more withering glare at the bemused wizard, before storming away from him.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you Granger.”
Nott’s lilting voice followed her as she all but ran from the library.
Only when she returned to Gryffindor tower did Hermione notice that her hands hand not stopped shaking.