Chapter Text
Theo frowned slightly, his gaze drifting out the window feeling, well, not bored exactly but rather constrained, like he was caught knee deep in a particularly nasty bit of quicksand. He did not much like groups or gangs in general, even the one that know-it-all hat placed him in in his first year. He only looked up when Draco addressed him directly.
“Hey Nott, are you listening?” he asked, looking quite annoyed as though he had been expounding upon a subject of great importance. As always, Pansy was sitting beside him, glaring at the one who dared to slight her-not-quite-boyfriend. Theo suppressed a sneer. As though Draco was interested in girls at the ripe age of thirteen. His own parents had been older when their parents pushed them together, Edmund Nott more than twice the age of his wife, a girl fresh out of Hogwarts like a virgin offering to a monster.
“No, I am not. What did Potter do this time?” he asked with more harshness in his voice than he meant, “Or was it Granger? I swear it's unhealthy to think about them as much as you do.”
“Just snog them or don't,” Blaise cracked, earning a glare from both the Malfoy heir and the girl beside him.
“Shut your mouth, Zabini. Not everyone has snogging on the brain,” Draco sneered. The darker boy merely shrugged.
“Liar,” he smirked and Theo stood up, grabbing his Ancient Runes course book and leaving the compartment. He did not want to deal with Blaise's mother raising him to be an incubus or Draco's obsession over a slight two years ago or Pansy's infatuation over a boy her parents told her every day over the summer holidays was destined to be hers. He did not want to deal with thoughts about his mother. Perhaps if he left the compartment he'd leave them behind.
It worked sometimes.
He passed by Crabbe and Goyle, ignoring the glares sent his way. They wouldn't dare touch him. He strode through the different compartments, certain that he would find an empty one in no time. When he found himself passing by a group of older year Gryffindors, he gripped his wand, but nothing came of it. Cold eyes merely watched him pass by, but it was enough to convince him that he didn't need a completely empty compartment. Not all Gryffindors let a Slytherin pass without challenge.
Thus, when he found a compartment containing only a dirty blonde haired witch with her eyes buried in a magazine, he decided it was good enough. Deciding that she would be easy enough to drive away, he took a seat directly in front of her and stared with a smirk plastered on his face.
She looked up curiously, too big eyes fixing themselves on him for a moment before returning to her magazine. Theodore suppressed the urge to frown. If he kept staring at her like that, he was sure she'd leave. Acting like a Slytherin up to no good never failed to scare people off before...
“It must hurt to force your face into that shape,” she told him airily. He blinked in surprise, watching her hum a little as she turned a page. He flushed in embarrassment at how stupid he must have looked.
“It must hurt not to blink,” he retorted weakly. She smiled appreciatively at him.
“I haven't noticed, but I will try to blink more. Thank you.”
“You're welcome,” he murmured, turning his attention to his book. He turned his attention to his book again. Her sitting there didn't bother him much anyway. At any rate, she seemed content to leave him to his reading while she did hers. Still, he could not help but eye her now and then, mostly when he turned a page. Now that he took a good look at her, she seemed dressed rather oddly and not like a Muggle-Born either. Muggles had their own rules about their clothes and he was pretty sure they did not wear purple and orange together and was that Butterbeer cork necklace around her neck? She smiled at him.
“It's for keeping Wrackspurts away. I can make you one if you want. You seem to have a nasty case of them. Really nasty ones make your thoughts dark and moody instead of unfocused.”
He glared at her.
“I am not moody or unfocused,” he told her, “And I've never heard of wrackspurts before so quit making rot up.”
“I am not making rot up,” she told him, sounding insulted for the first time since he saw her and he grinned in satisfaction.
“Oh, then can you prove they exist?” he challenged. She frowned thoughtfully.
“I had a pair of Spectrespecs, but I seem to have misplaced them. Perhaps the Nargles took them...”
Theo suppressed the urge to roll his eyes.
“Well, owl me if you get a new pair,” he told her sarcastically. She smiled at him.
“I will,” she promised. He studied her. Did she not read sarcasm or did she pretend not to. He closed his book and looked out the window. This girl was maddening. He frowned as he saw the sky darken with clouds. It was sunny just five minutes ago. Then with a shudder the train came to a halt and a shiver ran down his spine.
This. This wasn't right. He had never heard of the train suddenly stopping like this before. He looked over a the girl questioningly and for once, she seemed to be as lost as he was.
“What's happening?” he asked.
“I don't know, but it's cold,” she told him and he shivered again as much as from the chill as the fear in her voice. The windows were icing up and he felt... It was as though all the feeling was being sucked out of him. He felt sweat run down his arms and he couldn't bring himself to move his arms from around his chest. It became worse when the door shuddered open and they came in.
They were dark and hooded and he wanted to crawl in a hole and die. He tried to stand up, maybe to run or something, but he only felt to the floor. He saw a black cloak glide in front of his vision and he closed his eyes, but that didn't help.
Her body laid still in the snow. He tried to wake her up. He pushed and pulled at her and when he failed, he tried to pick her up, but she was too heavy and stiff. Her eyes were wide open and they stared at him.
He crawled away in horror. He didn't want to look at them. The accusation in them. His vision swam.
“Your fault,” his father growled at him from a distance.
He forced open his eyes with a gasp, the things having passed them already. The girl was murmuring to herself. He could barely make out the words as he tried to prop his head up against the wall. He struggled to remember her name, but he realized he never got it.
“Girl! They're gone!” he told her, unable to quite raise his voice louder than a hoarse shout. She looked up at him and nodded.
“Dementors...” she said lowly and damn it this wasn't right. With a burst of anger, her forced himself upon his feet and he staggered towards her and grabbed her, trying to help her up and back to her seat. He felt himself stagger, but surprisingly, she was able to right him back and they collapsed next to each other.
“Bastards,” he murmured lowly. She bit her lip thoughtfully.
“Who?”
“Hm?” he asked. She looked at him curiously.
“The Dementors or the people who sent them?”
He glanced at her. Yes, there was a blue and bronze tie among the clashing colors that was her outfit. So she wasn't a first year. In fact, she was a Ravenclaw. Fitting.
“Both,” he muttered. Again anger burned in the pit of his stomach. What right did they have to send creatures like that at them? Was Fudge that much of a dunderhead or was there cruelty beneath the bumbling smile on the front of the Prophet?
“I'm sorry about your mum,” she told him. He looked at her suddenly and she must have seen the shock on his face because she continued, “You were whispering to yourself. It's okay. My daddy and I lost my mum when I was little.”
He looked away.
“I'm sorry.” he told her, hating the words that came out of his mouth. It was the standard consolation. The one people said in order to feel good about themselves and not dwell on something as inconvenient as a woman's death.
“I still have dad,” she told him cheerfully and he laughed hollowly.
“Lucky you.”
She seemed to pick up something in his words, but she didn't say anything. Not for a while. They just sat there in silence and Theo was grateful for it. The train continued its journey, but the world seemed greyer. It must have been the clouds still blocking out the sun and was that mist? There was never mist at this time of day off the edge of summer.
He didn't say much when they pulled into Hogsmeade. He tried to stand up, but he found himself leaning back against the chair. He felt someone pull on his hand. He flushed in embarrassment as she helped him to her feet. How was it that she was recovering faster than she was.
“Thanks,” he muttered lowly. When they joined the thronging mass of students heading out into the station, he pulled his hand away. He didn't need anyone thinking they were, well, like that. He flushed. He didn't even know this girl's name. He turned to her questioningly.
“Who are you?” he asked, grateful that the crowd was far more subdued than it normally was. She looked thoughtful.
“Well, that is something people spend their whole lives figuring out,” she told him and he suppressed a groan.
“Merlin, I mean your name! I'm Theodore Nott and you are?” he asked impatiently. She smiled airily and he was certain that she was aggravating him on purpose.
“Luna Lovegood. Pleased to meet you,” she told him. He grunted and she smiled at him again as though she was a party to some secret joke.
“I'm happy you're feeling better,” she told him. He looked at her questioningly. Was she having him on? No, she looked like she genuinely meant it. He looked ahead at the carriages and his lips curled in distaste. Merlin, he hated Threstals. He hated their undead-looking bodies and the way they seemed ready to tear into human flesh at a moment's notice. For her part, Luna stepped forward to pet one and he was surprised to see it almost seem to enjoy it.
“You're mental.” He declared. She looked at him in disappointment.
“You didn't look like someone who would be afraid of something different.”
“I'm not afraid,” he argued and she seemed to send him a look saying “prove it”. He paused for a moment. She was asking him to touch one of those things? Merlin, no. She was challenging him and she had already did it herself without so much as a moment's hesitation.
Well, Dumbledore isn't stupid. He wouldn't use animals that were dangerous to take students to school... Right? He asked himself. He cursed his almost Gryffindorish decision as he stepped forward.
He huffed and made his way over to the front of the carriage, heedless of the stares sent his way. It was one thing for this girl to be interacting with something that wasn't there, but Theo had cultivated a persona of almost anonymous normality, but at this moment, he couldn't bring himself to care.
“See, nothing to it,” he told her triumphantly when he patted one's head before shuddering as he pulled away and it licked his fingers. He stomped away and stepped into the carriage and ignored the pleased expression on Luna's face on the way to the castle. She was a little bit like Blaise that way and if she wasn't a girl, he'd probably have threatened to jinx her.
Again, they resumed the journey in silence and once again he was grateful. When they reached the entrance hall, he heard the telltale signs of Draco boasting and the rest of his housemates laughing and murmuring appreciatively.
“Oh, Potter was screaming for his mommy, that's what I heard. The Dementors practically had him wetting himself. Then he fainted!”
He stiffened. Did he faint? He didn't think so. It was just... intense. He looked at Luna and with some relief, he noticed that she didn't approve. Good that meant she...
“Hey Nott! There you are,” Draco greeted, noticing him for the first time, drawing Slytherin gazes at him and the person he hadn't managed to push away and with a start, Theo realized that he hadn't really been bothered by her presence for a while, enough so that he had walked with her like....
“Oh, what are you doing with Looney Lovegood?” Pansy questioned snidely, her gaze lingering on the girl and Theo flushed, “Since when are you friends with her?”
“I will be friends with whoever I bloody well please, Parkinson! As you can see, I've spent enough time with you that Lovegood is pleasant in comparison.” He snapped at her harshly, earning a smirk from Blaise. Merlin, he would be hell to put up with later. He glanced at Luna.
Why was she looking at him like that? He huffed.
“I will see you around,” he grunted, dragging himself into the Great Hall. He didn't feel like social posturing more than he had to.