Step 1
**13 days before the start of 7th year**
Step 1. Forced Proximity
Hermione sighed into her hands, her neck ached, and she was beginning to feel a tension headache forming behind her eyes. She had been staring at a sheet of parchment for hours and hadn’t written a single thing. She pressed her fingers against her eyeballs, willing the pain to subside.
She knew that this mission would be difficult, but after spending hours trying to decide how to even begin step one, she now realized difficult was a monumental understatement. Step one would be creating a seemingly organic run in with Theodore that would be significant enough to start some sort of repertoire between them that she could use as a steppingstone to plant the seed of friendship. Easy right? Wrong. Impossible was more like it. They were in different houses, ran with different social circles, were practically on opposite ends of the war, and they had nothing in common. She just knew that if she approached him in anyway, he would sense something was wrong.
Hermione dropped her forehead onto the desk with a thud. Why had she convinced herself that she could do this? She groaned against the cool wood and internally cursed Harry and Ron with entrusting her with such an impossible task.
Suddenly she lifted her head, mentally grasping on to the thread of an idea before it could drift away. Maybe she had been too quick to assume they had nothing in common.
Hermione and Theodore had always been neck and neck for top marks in their studies. They were both intelligent and ambitious. The idea came to her so violently that she jumped out of her seat, successfully sending her chair careening backwards and toppling over on the floor.
Head boy and head girl, why hadn’t Hermione thought of it sooner! It was very plausible Theodore would be chosen as head boy.
An icy dread washed over her body with a sinking realization. McGonagall had sent her an owl weeks ago offering her the position, and she had turned it down because she assumed she would be with Harry and Ron hunting horcrux’s. No no no.
Hermione grabbed a handful of floo powder and threw it into the fire, yelling McGonagall’s name when the flames turned green. She sat there for several moments holding her breath, and nearly burst into tears of joy when McGonagall’s severe face appeared out of the embers.
“Good heavens Ms. Granger, do you realize what time it is?”
Hermione didn’t even bother to look at the clock, she knew it must be late, but this took precedence.
“Would I be correct in assuming that Theodore Nott was chosen as head boy this year?’ Hermione blurted.
McGonagall furrowed her brows with a look of confusion. “I don’t see why this isn’t a topic that couldn’t wait until the morning-“.
“Please” Hermione interrupted, and McGonagall must have sensed the pleading in her voice, because her face softened and was replaced with a look of concern.
“You know I can’t divulge that information until the first day of the term dear…” she said softly.
Hermione sighed and tried to rein in her frustration, she was going to have to make McGonagall understand the severity of the situation if she was going to bend any of the rules for Hermione.
“Harry and Ron are gone, I can’t tell you where they went or how long they will be gone for, but I can tell you that if they are looking for something, and if they can find it, it could have the power to turn the tide of the war in our favor. Before they left, they gave me a mission; a mission that if I fail, people could lose their lives. I’m sorry, I know that’s cryptic and slightly dramatic, but I need you to understand the gravity of what I’m asking” Hermione breathed, praying to Merlin that McGonagall would break the rules, even just this once.
The stern woman regarded her with a quizzical gaze for several moments before sighing deeply. “Yes, Theodore Nott has been chosen as this year’s head boy, and he accepted the position promptly thereafter, as id hoped you would. Now I have been forced to offer the position of head girl to another seventh-year witch. Are you having second thoughts?”.
“No – yes… I’m sorry, its complicated, I can’t give you many details, but it’s imperative that Theodore and I are head boy and head girl. You know I would never ask something like this unless it was critical” Hermione pushed.
Their eyes connected, and Hermione could tell McGonagall was trying to read her. Hermione had always been shite at controlling her emotions, and she knew that her anxiety was written all over her face. Hermione tried to smile but she couldn’t stop the tremble of her bottom lip, so much was hanging on this moment and the pressure was threatening to crack her resolve. The older woman’s eyes flashed as she seemed to find something in Hermione’s gaze that gave her the answer she was looking for.
McGonagall cleared her throat, “I will make it happen” she announced. Hermione audibly let go of the breath she had been holding, and her shoulders sagged in relief.
“Thank you-“ Hermione began, but was cut off by McGonagall’s rising her hand to pause.
“Ms. Granger… you are truly the brightest witch of your age, and I wholeheartedly believe that you can accomplish whatever you put your mind to, but, If you are doing what I believe you to be doing, I can’t ethically walk away from this conversation without leaving you with some parting advice; if something were to happen to you, I would never be able to forgive myself.”
McGonagall’s face bore a grim expression, and Hermione swallowed nervously. “If you are planning what I think you are, please allow me to teach you occlumency”.
Hermione blinked in surprise, had McGonagall read in between the lines that easily? She supposed that it wouldn’t exactly take a genius to put two and two together. She shifted nervously, trying not to let her expression confirm McGonagall’s suspicions.
“While your main objective may be to learn about Theodore Nott, his allegiances, and perhaps even gain insider information from the opposing side, you forget that he can do the same from you. Theodore Nott comes from one of the oldest wizarding families in the sacred twenty-eight, he will have most likely been taught ligilimency and occlumency from a very young age. As I’m sure you well know, he is also the youngest member of a family that is notorious for embracing the dark arts; generations of little-known dark magic taught to a young man with the intelligence to wield it in ways that you can’t even imagine. Learning occlumency is the least you can do to protect yourself if you are sure you want to go forward with this” McGonagall continued.
Hermione could feel the anxiety creeping in through her pores. She knew that she would be putting herself in a precarious situation, but she hadn’t taken the time to consider that she could be putting the entire order at risk. McGonagall was right, she would need to learn occlumency, and soon.
“How soon can we start?” Hermione breathed, panic gripping her. There was only 13 days before the start of term, and while Hermione knew she had far above average intelligence, occlumency was notoriously difficult. Suddenly it felt like every second counted, and she didn’t want to waste even a moment more.
“I will floo to the burrow in the morning”.
Hermione opened her mouth to protest but McGonagall had lifted her palm for a second time in a silencing motion and Hermione knew the conversation was over. They said their goodnights and Hermione sat back down over her blank piece of parchment illuminated by a single burning candle, and suddenly the parchment seemed much more ominous. The shadows of the dimly lit flame danced across the soft white papyrus, and Hermione realized the importance of just this simple parchment. If she messed this up, it wouldn’t just be herself that she was putting as risk. Pushing her anxiety aside, she finally dipped her quill into ink and began to write.
**First Day of Term / Head Boy & Head Girl Suite**
Hermione shifted nervously in front of the inconspicuous wooden door that led to the head boy and girl dormitories. She was scared, but also excited; making head girl had once been her dream, but that was before the war, when her biggest worries were her grades. She sighed with longing for simpler times, wishing that she could fully enjoy the moment without her anxiety threatening to push her into a full-blown panic attack. But Hermione knew that at the end of the day, her feelings had no place here. She had a job to do, and people’s lives were on the line. So instead of wallowing, she twisted the doorknob and let herself in, bracing for her first interaction with Theodore Nott.
Hermione was flooded with a mixture of relief and anxiety when she looked around the room, Theodore was nowhere to be seen. The room looked like a midsize studio. On the far wall was a beautiful fireplace with ornate stone carvings that reached all the way to the vaulted ceilings. Several comfy looking velvet couches and armchairs were placed around the fireplace, sitting atop an elegant fur rug. Bookcase after bookcase lined the walls, much to Hermione’s delight. A large sturdy looking table was pushed against one of the walls, doubling as a dining table and or study table. To her right was a kitchenette, equipped with what appeared to be all the basics. Finally her eyes settled on two closed doors on the other end of the kitchenette, one was Gryffindor red, the other, Slytherin Green; their dorms she presumed, most likely charmed to reflect their house colors.
Hermione scanned the room to see if any of Theodore’s stuff had been moved in but could see no sign of him, perhaps he would be unpacking his stuff later? With a sigh Hermione made her way to the red door and let herself in. She was immediately greeted by a less than thrilled Crookshanks, clearly unhappy with the change of scenery. He let loose a meow in protest that was more like a gargled scream than a meow, and Hermione had to stifle a laugh. The dorm looked much like her old dorm in Gryffindor tower, minus several other sleeping girls. Gryffindor red covered almost every inch of the room. Hermione frowned, she would have to change that, she had never been a fan of the vibrant red color that embodied her house. With a wave of her wand, the red was transformed into earthy greens and browns, some gray, and with pops of yellow as a final touch. The end product reminded her of a sunflower field on a rainy day, which suited her just fine.
After a brief deliberation, Hermione decided to unpack her things the muggle way. With all the stress of the war and her mission, stressing about something insignificant like where to put her belongings would be a reprieve. She flipped open her trunk and heard a soft clink and the bottom, and after digging through the mess of clothes and books, she pulled up the source of the noise; a bottle of elf made wine that Fred and George had given her for her 17th birthday. Tears welled up in her eyes as she remembered that day not so long ago. Her heart had felt so full, she had been surrounded by all her closest friends, and now, only months later, she was all alone. Her two best friends were on the run, Fred and George had dropped out and were now active members of the order, and her parents were in Australia and had no memory of ever having a daughter. Hermione suddenly felt very small; very small and very isolated. Hermione would allow herself to cry, if only for a moment, and then she was going to get back up, pull up her big girl panties, and unpack. She pressed her face into her hands and let herself sob; once, twice, three times, then she wiped her face with her sleeve and nodded to herself; she could do this. Standing up, Hermione turned away from her trunk, but then with a second thought, turned back around and reached for the bottle of wine. If she was going to be miserable, she might as well be tipsy.
Looking around the room, she realized she was going to have to venture out into the kitchen to find any sort of glassware. Bringing the bottle with her, she charged through the dividing door into the kitchen, only to come to a screeching halt. Standing in the middle of the living room with his own trunk, was the very tall, very foreboding Theodore Nott, looking just as surprised to see her as she was him. Their eyes locked for a moment, both of them taking in the reality that this would be the new norm with their living arrangement. After a second, his eyes dropped to the bottle of wine in her hand. She followed his gaze until they were both awkwardly staring at the bottle of wine.
Hermione had always been a nervous talker, she felt the need to fill awkward silences with chatter, she couldn’t help herself. “Um, hi, I was just about to pour myself a glass, would you like one?” she stuttered out at him.
He returned his gaze to her face and cocked a brow, remaining silent, which only urged her to cough up more word vomit.
“I, uh, don’t usually drink, but…” she couldn’t think of what to say next. She couldn’t mentioned that she was stressed, since what she was stressed about directly involved him.
“But?” he finally chimed in. Good lord he had a deep voice. The voice of a man, not like the other 17-year-old boys running around the school.
“But...” she stalled before inspiration finally struck her, “but it seemed fitting, a celebration of sorts, its not every day you make head girl”.
He gave her a dubious look and she began to internally panic, she needed to distract him. “So, would you like to join me? For a drink I mean? You must be thrilled about making head boy”.
“Thrilled” he deadpanned, but he was eying the bottle in her hands.
“Its elf made wine” she felt the need to add. His stare was so intense, she felt like he could see right through her bullshit. He crossed the room and took the bottle of wine from her hand, flipping it so he could read the label. She had never been this close to Theodore Nott in her life, he was at least a full head taller than her, and he smelled like smoke and expensive muggle cologne. His proximity made her dizzy, what was wrong with her?
He snorted and passed the wine back to her, and with a wave of his wand, his own trunk popped open and a very expensive looking bottle of Ogden’s Old firewhiskey flew into his outstretched hand. Hermione internally scoffed, of course a bottle of wine bought on the Weasleys budget wouldn’t be good enough for someone of his status.
She made her way into the kitchen and grabbed two goblets, bringing one back out into the living area and passed one to Theodore, which he immediately transfigured into a whiskey tumbler. She poured some wine into her glass, probably a little too much, but she needed some liquid courage. She could see him pouring some whiskey into his tumbler from her peripheral. Well at least this was progress.
They both sat on chairs on opposite ends of the rug by the fire, Hermione crossed her legs nervously, but Theodore seemed to make himself right and home and sprawled over his own chair, taking a deep pull from his glass. Hermione anxiously took a sip from her own, pleased to discover that the taste was light and fruity. The room was so quiet she could hear the clock ticking from across the room.
She cleared her throat, determined to get through this incredibly awkward encounter. What could she talk to him about that he would be responsive too? She was once again flummoxed by the sheer impossibility of her mission, they just didn’t have much in common.
“So… Theodore, wha-“
“Theo” he interrupted.
“Excuse me?” she asked.
“Theo, call me Theo” he stated abruptly. She gave him a perplexed look, to which he added “only my mother called me Theodore” with an edge.
She nodded slowly in understanding, “okay then… Theo”. She sadly realized he referred to his mother in the past tense, so the rumors must be true, at least some of them anyway. Having recently lost her own parents in a way, she found her heart aching for him. A sad and unexpected common ground, nobody’s son, nobody’s daughter; a shared truth that she could never share with him. She erased her parents’ memories for their own protection, the war was getting too dangerous, and telling a potential death eater about them was out of the question, so instead she stayed silent.
But the silence was loud, and when she looked up to meet his gaze, she realized that he was misreading the silence. He looked… angry. He thought she was feeling sorry for him. Well, she was, wasn’t she? Just not for the reasons he was assuming. He was probably tired of people feeling sorry for him, which Hermione could understand, but she was only feeling sorry for him because she understood the agony of losing a parent. This was not a good start, Hermione needed to change the subject, and fast. But before she could speak up, Theo beat her to the punch.
“You can keep your pity Granger” he snapped.
“No, it’s not like that-“she tried to interrupt.
“I would have expected the golden girl of Gryffindor to be above such petty gossip” he spat.
“I am!” she defended.
“Clearly not” he shot back.
“I can’t help but overhear some of it when every girl in school is whispering about you day in and day out” she threw back at him, “anyone with ears has been subjected to the twitter of the Nott lot”.
He barked out a genuine laugh, “they do not, and I’m sorry, the what?”.
She rolled her eyes, “oh please, don’t pretend like you don’t know your gorgeous and that every girl at this school would throw themselves at you. You have a solid fan base, and I have heard so much unsolicited, drab, mostly nonsensical gossip about you from so many women that I’ve coined them the Nott lot”. Good lord someone stop her. Looking down at her glass, she realized with a slight panic that she had already finished it. She summoned the bottle to her and refilled it, taking a long sip.
“Every girl?” he questioned, cocking his eyebrow suggestively.
Hermione immediately began choking on the rather large mouthful of wine she was attempting to swallow. What a cheeky bastard.
“You know what I mean Nott” she said after finally clearing her windpipe.
“It’s Nott now is it?” He laughed, flashing his dimples.
“Alright Theo” she emphasized, “were roommates now, for better or worse, so why don’t we use this opportunity to clear the air about petty rumors”.
“How so?” he asked, taking another long pull from his own glass.
“We state a rumor that we have heard about the other, and you can either confirm or deny truthfully, but if you refuse to answer, you have to take a drink” she proposed. The liquor was starting to heat up her skin, and she was feeling bold. This was the perfect opportunity to get him to open and up and talk to her, a groundwork that she could use to build the faux friendship.
She could see him thinking over her proposal, surely weighing the pros and cons just as she had. “Alright Granger, you’re on” he sighed with resignation.
Hermione looked up at the ceiling, trying to fish out one of the endless rumors about him that she had overheard over the years that would be a good one to start off the game with. She decided to start easy.
“Is it true that Millicent Bulstrode tried to cop a feel during the Yule Ball, and that you had to hex her to get her off of you?” she asked with a giggle, the wine was making her so light.
Theo snorted into his glass, “Painfully true. Did you really almost get pulverized by a troll in a girl’s bathroom in first year?”.
Hermione laughed out loud, “yes, it’s one of my favorite memories” she said affectionately, it was what had solidified her friendship with Harry and Ron all those years ago. Her smile dropped when she remembered that she was all alone, and instead she took another pull from her glass.
His gaze caught her smile when it dropped, even hidden behind her goblet, and the air tensed palpably. “Why aren’t they in school this year?” he questioned, unsettled her with that piercing gaze. Was he using legillimency on her? Would she even know? She slammed up her mental walls the best she could either way, she knew McGonagall wouldn’t have taught her Occlumency unless she truly believed the threat of legillimency was real. Hermione needed to deflect, now.
“That’s not how the game works Theo” she tried to tease. He was still staring at her intensely, and for too long. The air felt charged, and she didn’t dare breathe. But then he broke into a smile, “fair enough, moving on” he laughed.
Hermione was effectively unsettled, his shift in demeanor was so dramatic, and she was almost positive he had attempted legillimency on her, and hopefully failed. She had only trained with McGonagall for 12 days, and even though she felt like she had mastered the basics, McGonagall had warned her not to underestimate Theo, who had most likely undergone training since boyhood. One thing she did know though, was that he was definitely prying, as was she.
She cleared her throat, attempting to get them back on track. “Is it true you grew up in a castle?”.
“Only during the summers” he teased, and Hermione’s eyes threatened to pop out of her skull.
“Is it true that Madam Pince gave you unlimited access to the restricted section in the library?” he pressed.
Hermione smirked and took a sip from her drink; that rumor was true, but she would never throw the librarian under the bus. Theo smirked, and mimicking her movements took a sip out of his own glass, and Hermione giggled and felt her stomach flutter. What was wrong with her? One cute boy pays her the slightest bit of attention and she’s acting like one of the bloody 4th years that follow him around tittering every time he looks in their general direction.
“Is it true you slept with Pansy Parkinson in 5th year?”
Theo groaned and closed his eyes as if in pain, “don’t remind me”.
Hermione’s mouth dropped open, and she couldn’t help the manic laugh that escaped her mouth. Pansy Parkinson was crazy, she needed to know more. “Details” she demanded from the boy sitting across from her.
“I’m not nearly drunk enough for that” he retorted, taking another sip. “But now that you’ve brought up sex, I have to ask about the real elephant of a rumor in the room. Which one are you sleeping with?”.
Hermione scoffed, “excuse me? Which one of who?”.
“Oh please, you have to know the entire school has taken bets on which golden boy has planted his flag on swot extraordinaire Hermione Granger”.
Hermione was at a loss for words. “I’m sorry, planted their flag?-“
Theo rolled his eyes, obviously slightly impatient with her. “Fucking, Granger, which one are you fucking? Or is it both? Wouldn’t that be unexpected” he mused.
Hermione saw red. “Neither!” she all but screeched. “Can’t a woman have a platonic friendship with a man?”.
“Not usually, at least not in my experience” he quipped with a smirk.
Hermione threw back the rest of her drink. “You, Theodore Nott, are a trouble maker” she accused, pointing at him with a slightly unsteady finger and she poured herself another glass of wine.
He put up his hands in surrender, “guilty as charged, we’ll chalk it up to being a Slytherin and all that nonsense.”.
She made a disbelieving sound, the nerve, but he wasn’t finished yet.
“So if it wasn’t Potter or Weasley that deflowered the Gryffindor princess, does that mean the rumor of you and Victor Krum is true?”.
Hermione furrowed her brows; she wasn’t sure how to answer that. Her and Victor had dated, but they had never slept together. “Yes, but no?” she answered, her voice cracking nervously.
Theo chuckled, taking another pull from his drink. “So what your saying is, you’re a virgin” he stated with a playful look, tipping his glass towards her.
Hermione tried to deny it, but all that came out was a strangled cry.
Theo nodded, “that’s all I needed as confirmation Granger, I wouldn’t pursue a career in politics if I were you”.
Hermione defiantly took a drink, if he wanted to cross boundaries, then she would show him that he wasn’t the only one to be underestimated.
“Is it true you know dark magic?” she challenged.
The humor dropped from his face, and he seemed to think about how to answer, but instead of answering he took a long pull from his glass and gave her a dark look. That took Hermione back, she was expecting him to lie, but by pleading the fifth, he might as well have just said yes. What was he playing at? Was he giving her a small truth that was obvious anyway in the hopes that she would open up to him in return? Hermione took a sip from her drink, she needed to be careful, she got the feeling she was playing a game with someone who knew the rules much better than she did. Suddenly her skin felt too hot, and the reality of just who she would be sharing a living space with came crashing down on her. Son of the most notorious death eater in history, who just openly shared with her that he also knows dark magic.
In a thinly veiled attempt to fend off the panic, Hermione stood up and made her way to the kitchen, muttering something about it being her bedtime and needing to wash out her goblet. With despair she realized her hands were shaking too much to wash out the goblet, she groaned with frustration and whirled around, ready to give up and call it a night. But before she could make her way to her room, her chest hit something hard, pinning the glass in between her and the unknown object. She looked up, annoyance written all over her face, only to realize the object she had walked straight into was Theo, now standing in the kitchen holding his own glass. He was close enough that she could smell more than smoke and muggle cologne, she could also pick up hints of cherry and cedar. Whatever it was, it was intoxicating, and she was pretty sure she was on the verge of passing out. His breath was ghosting across her face, and all her logic was failing her, she should be pushing him away, or at least leaving, but instead she felt glued to the spot.
He reached up with his free hand and wrapped it around her smaller one that was still holding her goblet in a vice like grip. “Allow me?” he asked, and she found herself allowing him to pull the goblet from her grasp.
“Are you dangerous?” she blurted out before she even realized what she was asking him. She immediately regretted asking it, something about the liquor and his proximity was making her thoughts go completely blank.
Theo met her eyes with his own, which she noticed had flecks of gold in them. He regarded her for a moment before a ghost of a smile reached his lips, pulling one corner up in a mischievous smirk that made her blood run cold, before he put his glass to his lips and took a deep pull. “Go to bed Granger” he said in an amused tone, before stepping around her and turning the faucet on the kitchen sink.
And Hermione did just that, like a zombie she made her way from the kitchen to her bedroom, making sure to lock her door behind her, completely in a daze. She crawled straight into bed, not even bothering to change her clothes, and stared into the darkness trying to process what she had learned tonight.
Was Theodore Nott a death eater? Maybe.
Did he know dark magic? Yes, but that was a give in.
Was he dangerous? Most likely.
Was Hermione intrigued? Unfortunately.
What the hell had she gotten herself into?