InsaneJournal

Fic: Secrets, TN/HG, PG
Title: Secrets
Author: foreword
Disclaimer: Not mine, though I wouldn't mind vying for Theodore.
Rating: PG
A/N: Thank you, cloudsurfing, for the quick beta. :)

For Becka. <3




Every day, she crept in before breakfast, curling up in her spot, near the back. She had been enveloped in this routine for so long now that she might well have been invisible where she sat. Pince didn’t bother to look up now, when Hermione made her way in.

She’d stack her table high with ancient texts on various subjects, trying to find a reason, an answer, a solution. But always her eyes betrayed her, sneaking away from the page and skipping across the room to the other invisible person.

Every day, he was there. Always arriving before her, and always disappearing moments prior to her own departure. Some mornings, she lingered, hoping he would return. But that was foolish, and it only succeeded in making her late to her first lesson.

*

It took her two weeks to realise he was in NEWT potions with her. Following this stunning realisation, she spent the next few days examining her every class, searching for the thin, wiry boy with familiar dark, unruly hair.

He almost reminded her of Harry sometimes. They both exuded the same tortured, withdrawn darkness and it pained her to see it so reflected in a stranger. Harry’s pain was a private, hidden and tumultuous sort of suffering that would erupt suddenly, dangerously and without warning.

Ron had stopped telling her about Harry’s nightmares long ago. It pained her to admit that she didn’t want to know, anymore. At least, she didn’t want Ron to be the one to tell her.

So why, then, did this stranger intrigue her so?

*

Apparently he had noticed her watching him. She had assumed she would be as invisible or unworthy of notice to him as she was to the rest of the Slytherins, but she had made a mistake in assuming anything about Theodore Nott.

She watched as he crossed the library toward her now, sure that he would turn away at any minute, positive that he would turn down one of the many aisles of books and disappear. Instead, he stopped just in front of her table, pulling out a chair and taking a seat across from her without asking.

“Can I help you with something?”

Hermione gaped at him for a moment, unsure of how to proceed.

“I … Sorry?”

Nott smiled and folded his arms, resting them on the table and locking his hands together.

“Well, you haven’t been terribly subtle, Granger. Is there any reason you’ve taken to staring at me?”

Hermione’s cheeks felt hot and she knew she was blushing now. Her stomach twisted in mortification and nervousness as she tried to think of a clever way to reply.

None came.

“I …”

She frowned and decided to be as upfront as he was.

“You’re not like the rest of them.”

A strange expression flitted across his features before disappearing behind a raised eyebrow and a smirk.

“Aren’t I? Aren’t we all the same to you snooty, judgemental, Gryffindors?”

Hermione’s mouth opened again, this time in indignation.

“We’re judgemental? We’re snooty?” Her voice had risen to a volume entirely unsuitable for her present location. Pince looked up from her desk sharply, her beady eyes finding Hermione quickly as she pursed her lips in warning.

Nott was laughing silently now, covering his mouth with his hand and looking away from her, as if he were embarrassed. It almost made Hermione want to hit him.

Almost.

She lowered her voice again and leaned forward, pretending to be taking notes on the Charms book open in front of her.

“You aren’t like Malfoy and the others.”

Silence answered her, and after several minutes, she looked up to find him watching her, biting his lip in quiet contemplation.

“Doesn’t mean I’m like you, either.”

He left then, slipping out of his chair quietly and disappearing down one of the rows of books. Hermione stared after him, replaying his words in the back of her head and wondering why he hadn’t disagreed with her. Wondering how he was different.

*

She was ten minutes late to Ancient Runes, having lost track of time in her musings over Nott’s actions. He was there already, hidden in the shadows of the classroom, his parchment already rolling off of the desk, the hasty scrawling across it clearly visible from where she stood.

She took the empty seat behind him after enduring admonishments for her tardiness. By the end of the class, her notes were stark and her attention scattered. He still hadn’t so much as acknowledged her presence, and she wanted to know why.

As if he’d heard her thoughts, he turned around quickly, brushing dark hair out of his eyes as he regarded her, his eyes dropping briefly to her parchment. Hermione flushed, embarrassed at the sparseness of her notes.

“I’ll be in the library after dinner.”

And then he was gone, again. She found herself staring after him and shook her head, trying to bring her mind up to speed with her heart, which was currently pounding fervently in her chest at his … for lack of a better word, invitation.

*

The library was relatively empty that night - unsurprising for a Friday, perhaps. She’d watched him leave the Great Hall alone, and after a beat she’d excused herself to follow.

He was sitting in her seat, the chair pushed back on two legs as he regarded the ceiling with some apparent interest. Hermione glanced up, but found nothing other than the usual boring stone. She cleared her throat as she reached him, and his eyes flickered instantly to her. With a soft 'thud', the chair was on four legs again as he handed her a parchment roll she hadn’t realised he was holding.

“What’s this?” she asked, taking it tentatively.

“Notes from class.”

His tone was bored, his expression unreadable. He glanced at the ceiling again. Hermione had fully intended, flushed and mortified, on giving the notes back immediately and explaining that her notes were perfectly adequate, thank you very much, but she couldn’t resist following his gaze again.

“What are you looking at?”

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, laughing quietly again, as if they’d shared a private joke.

“Sit down.”

She did, then, still staring up at blank stone. She was just starting to wonder if he was actually mad when she saw it. A flicker of what looked like writing had just appeared on the stone, before disappearing into the grey granite again. She gasped.

“What-?”

Nott smiled and tore his gaze away from the ceiling, standing up and gathering his things as Hermione remained glued to her chair, staring up expectantly.

“Hogwarts, a History.”

She blinked slowly, trying to ignore the feeling of cold that had just swept over her skin. Then he was behind her, above her, and suddenly his mouth was at her ear.

“It’s a secret.”

Hermione closed her eyes, the feeling on her skin now having nothing to do with what she’d just discovered. She knew he had gone before she opened her eyes.

*

If Ron and Harry had noticed the increased amount of time she was spending in the library, they hadn’t said anything. She had declined two of Slughorn’s invitations to return, spending hours at a time trying to read what was being inscribed above her.

Her fascination with her favourite book was, however, rivalled by her fascination with a certain Slytherin. He’d returned to using his table since that night, and had continued as if he’d never spoken to her. She had started to wonder what was intended to be kept secret. Several nights passed before she decided to find out.

*

He finished the sentence he’d been writing before he looked up, an annoyed expression on the face visible behind his messy dark hair. Hermione, lips pursed and hands on her hips, realised how much she resembled Mrs. Weasley. She flushed and let her hands drop, her arms swinging awkwardly by her sides. Nott’s lips twisted into an amused smirk.

“What exactly is a secret, Nott?”

He raised his eyebrows in surprise, letting his quill drop as he leaned back in his chair. He glanced up meaningfully before looking at her.

“Forget so quickly?”

She sighed and pulled out a chair, sitting and crossing her legs in a very business-like manner, determined to not be intimidated.

“I thought you might be referring to something else, actually.”

His eyes twinkled briefly, but his expression remained otherwise impassive.

“Oh? Such as?”

She sighed again and tucked a rather insistent bit of hair behind her ear, resisting the urge to drum her fingers on the table. After a moment’s pause, she pulled a rolled up parchment from her bag and set it on the table in response.

Nott’s eyes locked on the roll, and there was an awkward pause before he looked back up at her.

“You’d like me to keep your academic failures a secret, then?”

Hermione’s mouth opened in shock, but before she could hiss out an angry response, she noticed the twitch of a smile in his expression again.

She paused, and then –

“What are you so afraid of?”

This, apparently, was not at all what he was expecting. The surprise on his face was sudden and undisguised, and it was a moment before he replied.

“I’m not afraid.”

“What, then?”

He watched her, his expression noticeably darker now as he brushed his hair from where it had fallen into his eyes again.

“I enjoy my solitude.”

Hermione nearly snorted, folding her arms over her chest and sitting back, staring at him as if he’d said something offensive.

“Not everyone is like Draco Malfoy, you know. You could have real friends, who aren’t hateful and obnoxious.”

Nott watched her for a beat, and for a moment, Hermione wondered if she’d pushed too far.

“I know.”

She swallowed, letting her hands fall to her lap as she waited for him to continue, but he was silent again, his eyes fixed on her and his expression unreadable. She cleared her throat finally, breaking the silence with a hesitant, almost hopeful voice.

“I don’t suppose that’s what you meant, then? That you’d care for my - friendship - in secret?”

Nott continued staring at her, and she had the sudden, panicked thought that he wouldn’t answer her – that he’d laugh. But then he spoke, his voice quiet and his eyes dropping to the parchment.

“If that’s what you’d like, Granger.”

No, she thought frantically, no, that’s not what I’d like!

“It doesn’t have to be a secret.”

He glanced back up at her, smiling slightly. She wondered if he was always as privately amused as she seemed to make him.

“Secrets are fun.”

She must have blushed at this, because his expression changed slightly and he leaned over the table toward her, his hair sweeping into his eyes again.

“Lots of fun.”



Happy Belated Birthday. :))