Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

One

Theodore Nott felt tired. A dull ache behind his eyes was literally killing him. Slowly, he took in the nauseatingly familiar crowd around. It was one of those banal Ministry functions. He couldn't even compel himself to remember the occasion. Somewhere during the last fifteen years, and that was exactly how long he had been working in Magical Law Enforcement, he had developed a strong feeling of disgust toward these so-called soirees. Everything was always the same—the same hall, same faces, same cheap food and drinks, and the same envious whispers and fake smiles. There were far too many ex-husbands, ex-boyfriends and every other possible ex in one poorly decorated hall. So naturally, it would be too naive to hope for even the slightest hint of sincerity in their common, pretended joy.

An acute and sudden desire to throw up momentarily engulfed him, and Theo was forced to take an urgent and salvaging swig of his drink. Somehow, today felt like more than just his habitual disgust. He hated to be a part of this farce with every fibre of his being. He wasn't sure exactly what it was. The Ministry functions never before had elicited such a strong reaction from him. 

Maybe he was just exhausted and a bit more wound up than usual. His position as the chief of Criminal Investigations was not exactly helping in his quest for relaxation. It was true that he had began tiptoeing on the emotional edge long before. Actually, it had been so long that now it seemed as if he had always been like that—always as taut as the string of a bow, always ready to spring, always on the brink.

On the other hand, maybe it was Draco's divorce finalization, which his blond friend had announced to him just a few minutes ago. It might very well be. It was weird how instantly and irrevocably his friends' divorce had thrown him out of balance. They both were his friends, Astoria and Draco. Moreover, he loved Scorpius deeply. He was his godfather, after all, and over the years he had developed a true connection with the young lad. It was hard to watch how his godson had turned from the happy, smiley and properly spoiled Malfoy boy into the sad eyed, confused teenager who obviously wasn't ready to choose between his mother and father. "Shit," cursed Theo under his breath. "Bugger!"

He was a bloody detective. Every day he was surrounded by different degrees of awfulness, which went hand in hand with death and pain. It was his job. One should have toughened up by now. However, the everyday criminal routine didn't hit as close to home as Astoria's tears or Draco's growls.

Maybe it was simply that fucking middle-age crisis about which everybody around him had been buzzing for a few years now. Who knows, sighed Theo inwardly. He would be forty next month. Maybe now it was his turn to do something stupid and outrageous. Luckily, he was single, so at least there was no divorce looming over his head. The wizard frowned, thinking, trying to determine his feelings about his impending birthday. The number was round and nasty. Yes, he acknowledged that, but crisis? He didn't detect any signs of any freaking crisis in the depth of his soul. Nope, he decided that his approaching midpoint in life wasn't the reason for his more than slightly unpleasant mood today.

When that quick internal investigation turned out utterly fruitless, Theo glanced around trying to figure out what exactly had triggered the negativity to such an extent. He knew his mind well, and it had detected something awry. There must be a factor for his discomfort hidden somewhere around him. His trained, dark-blue eyes slid over the well-known faces with suspicion, looking for a clue.

First, he carefully examined his friends sitting near him. For a moment or so, he focused his gaze on Pansy and her new bimbo Zacharias. Watching them, he wasn't able to hold back a wry smirk. It seemed to him that Pansy still couldn't get over her obsession with blonds. As a friend, Theo had lost track of her blond-haired lovers long ago. Hmm, that had happened probably right after Draco. However, her newly acquired beau managed to annoy the hell out of him. His snobby demeanour and the idiotic manner of pronouncing everything through his nose, which was awfully insignificant for a man, made Theo cringe every time he saw or heard him. But Pansy looked happy, and it was enough of a reason for Theo to keep his opinion to himself. Sometimes he felt a genuine envy toward Pansy's easygoing attitude and determination to enjoy her life to the max. She was forty and unmarried. Her blokes were changing every other month or so, and frankly, she was not giving a damn about all that middle-age crap. Even now, here, at this gloomy party, she found a way to have fun. Lucky chit, thought Theo.

Next to Pansy sat Draco, who looked, if not entirely sloshed already, then at least well on the way. Draco's face was sombre, detached. Their eyes met for a moment, and his friend for many years made an attempt to smirk. A weak shadow of the famous Malfoy smirk ghosted over Draco's lips and vanished, not quite making it. The sudden intensifying of a clamour in Theo's ears and pressure in his temples was a cue for him to turn his face away from Draco and his pained eyes. His glance slid briefly over Marcus, Blaise, Astoria, Daphne, and other fellow Slytherins. It seemed odd and somewhat pathetic that even after twenty-two years, they still grouped themselves primarily by houses. Old habits die hard, chuckled Theo to himself.

There was one objective reason for them to stick together though. Slytherins typically were presented at the Ministry functions as the patrons. They didn't work at the Ministry. They provided the monetary support, so to speak. After the war, it had been a necessity for those who had managed to avoid Azkaban—they had needed to gain a respectable standing once again. Thus, they had paid their dues, and they still were paying them now. Wizards like Theo were a rare exception from the general Slytherin crowd.

The people who actually worked in the Ministry were mostly on the other side of the hall. Slowly he gazed over at them. There sat Theo's colleagues. Sure enough, all four detectives that worked under him were there, along with Potter and his Aurors and, of course, the rest of the department. Unsurprisingly, even after nearly sixteen years of working in proximity, Potter had never become Harry for him. They still kept calling each other by their last names. Old habits, indeed, smirked the wizard.

It had been an insane glitch of fate that he, Theodore Nott, fifteen years ago had been invited to work for the Ministry, and for Magical Law Enforcement, no less. Fate's intervention had had a face of course—the face of the Granger girl. Had she been Weasley by then? Heck, that hadn't mattered to him—he never had cared much for the bint – too pushy, way too loud for his liking, and horrible, horrible hair. She was the one who had found his small private investigator practice when she had decided that apparently Potter had a need for a real detective—one who had been properly trained and actually had studied the art of deduction. 

It had been that infamous case of the water poisoning in Hogwarts. Miraculously, none of the children had been hurt. However, five Hogwarts elves had died from it, and that fact, had explained Granger's involvement to Theo. The investigation had been stuck dead. The Aurors hadn't been able to find any clues for weeks. The parents' uproar had been unimaginable. The school had been brought to the brink of closing, and Potter had been at his wit's end for days. So naturally, Granger, always the saviour, had found Theo and asked him for help. 

Now, almost sixteen years later, Theo still could not explain to himself why he had agreed to take the job. But he had taken it, and together with Potter they had solved the case. After that, Potter had offered Theo the chance to work with him in the Ministry, and he had once again agreed.

Theo nodded to Potter when their eyes met. Then he sent a quick salute to his team of four detectives, who always sat together with the Aurors, and continued his perusal of the hall. Near Potter, there was the Weasley clan, of course. He didn't pay too much attention to all the red-heads and moved his gaze further. However, at the end of a long line of bright red, his peripheral vision caught something unusual—a face, a woman's face, to be precise.Is it a new face among the Weasleys?

He knew for a fact that all the Weasley men were settled down, and he didn't hear any divorce news from that particular side. Being a detective, Theo did pay close attention to rumours. After all, the lion's share of all offences and crimes was conducted on a domestic field.

Intrigued, the ache behind the eyes and his nausea forgotten, the wizard focused his blue eyes on a face he couldn't recognise immediately. The woman had a pale but soft complexion and dark eyes. She wore a pixie haircut and her curves were clad in a little black dress with bare shoulders. Alas, idiotic tasteless bouquets and dishes on the table concealed all other details from him. The mystery witch was jammed between Ronald and Percy Weasley, and with her extremely short hair and pale face, to Theo she looked like a complete, but extremely intriguing and alluring, alien. Watching this stranger carefully, Theo couldn't shake the peculiar feeling that he indeed knew her. Yet he couldn't quite put a name to the face.

As minutes passed, Theo grew more and more agitated every second. The question, 'Who is she?' bolted through his mind. Brown hair, probably brown eyes, pale skin, a slightly pert nose... Theo closed his eyes, analyzing the clues. Aghh, he knew who she was, the answer was there, swimming on the surface of his consciousness. He just needed one little push, and he would catch it.

"Is that Granger? What has she done with herself? She is almost unrecognisable. Theo, look, I cannot believe it's Granger." Draco's drunken drawl abruptly ended Theo's guessing agony.

Yes, damn, of course, it is Granger! Theo's eyes flew open, and he saw that apparently, while he had been trying to identify the witch, she had stood up, and now seemed to be briskly walking toward their table. Her curve-hugging little black dress was finally fully visible, and quite oddly, Theo's throat instantly dried out and his heartbeat noticeably increased its tempo at the view. He watched intently how she manoeuvred between the tables, easily navigating her way towards him.

Absurd thoughts jostled through his mind. Why is she going this way? The loo is on the other side of the hall. Did she notice that I stared at her?

When Granger was almost near him, the wizard began to feverishly seek the right greeting in his tired and aching mind. However, the witch didn't stop. She simply walked by, gave Theo a fleeting smile and a slight nod, and then exited the hall through the back door.

Shit, growled the wizard with chagrin as the bitter taste of disappointment came to his mouth. Inexplicably, he had an irrepressible urge to follow her, and instantly sprang up almost tipping his chair in the process. The last thing he had heard before he went after her, was Draco’s slur again, “Where are you going Theo? You are not leaving yet, are you?" 

Theo turned to face his friend and muttered, "No, Draco, no. I just need a breath of fresh air. I'll be back in a sec, mate. Don't worry, I am not leaving you here alone." With that, he patted Draco's slumped shoulder and went after the mysteriously and almost unrecognisably changed Granger.

When he made it outside, he found the witch leaning on the column and smoking a cigarette languidly. When Granger heard the sound of a heavy door slam shut, she turned to face him. The witch didn't say anything and didn't do anything. She just stood there, leisurely puffing a long, slim cigarette and watching him with her calm, chocolate-brown eyes.

For a while, Theo simply stared at her, not inclined to talk just yet either. She honestly looked different. Her face had changed, her eyes, her figure, her cleavage—everything. The last time Theo had seen her this close, not across the hall at the Ministry function, had been seven or eight years ago. He hadn't had his own room then, and she had been visiting Potter regularly. She had always seemed too plain to him then, too boring, or too unsophisticated perhaps. She had lacked that unique charm, that intoxicating air of mystery around her. Moreover, her humongous head of hair had annoyed him immensely.

Now, with her hair out of the way, he finally saw Hermione Granger. Slowly savouring every detail, he drank in her stubborn jawline; her full, wilful lips; well-defined cheekbones, and her high forehead. Her eyes, however, were not as sparkly as he remembered. The witch's sharp wit still shined through, of course, but now her gaze was laced with a hint of tiredness, maybe even slight annoyance. Was it boredom and sarcasm? Theo actually wasn't sure how to read it.

Her haircut was extremely short, and to Theo it looked bloody brilliant on her. There was no sign of Granger's customary wild curls, and now her neck and all her soft curves were exposed to his eyes. And she was quite curvy, all right. The dryness in his throat returned with renewed strength, and his heartbeat changed to a staccato pace.

It was bizarre how a mere haircut could change the whole demeanour and make a person utterly unrecognisable, how instantly it added a mystery where it had not been before. It was unbelievable, completely bonkers.

I didn't recognise Granger—sheer lunacy, chuckled Theo, who was quite amused with himself.

"Please, Theo, do tell a joke. I would love to share the excitement," the witch's voice simultaneously stopped Theo's musings and killed the laughter right in his throat. 
He didn't answer, still gazing at her intently. Then, he flashed her a crooked smirk. "Do you have another cigarette, Granger?" he said, stepping closer to the column on which she was leaning. 

"Last one, sorry," she murmured, watching him with interest. "Here, we can share this one, if you don't mind." Something bordering on a challenge sparkled in her eyes.

Theo arched a single eyebrow at her and with a touch of a smile said, "I don't mind, Granger. You?"

"Obviously I don't, Theo. I do mind you calling me Granger, though. It's childish, really." And she extended her bare arm, passing him the cigarette she had been smoking. Theo took it and put it in his mouth, feeling his heart pulsing its staccato beat not quite in his chest but much lower.

They smoked her last cigarette in silence, looking at each other. Theo found the act disturbingly arousing. By the time they finished, he felt almost undone.

The witch turned to put out the cigarette and Theo's breath hitched at the picture of her backside clad in black silk. Oh, Merlin's beard, when did Granger become that curvy? Starkly defined by her fitted dress, the steep slope between her narrow waist and her luscious hips made him want to groan. He could imagine now what it would do to him, just to be able to trace that steep line first with his fingertips, then palms, then tongue.

Argh, don't be ridiculous, it's Granger, he scolded himself, watching her.

The situation was surreal in its absurdity. He, Theodore Nott was suddenly overcome with desire for Hermione Weasley. He wanted her, maybe even urgently needed her. That idea, insistently pulsating in his brain, caused a noticeable throbbing in his trousers. Theo shook his head in bewilderment and stuffed his hands into his trousers pockets, hoping to obtain at least some sort of control over himself.

"I like your haircut," he said

"Thanks, Theo."

She didn't face him. She simply stood there, on the stairs, silently looking into the darkness. Crisp, night air began to nibble at her skin, and she shivered, hugging herself in a futile attempt to keep herself warm. Theo couldn't tear his eyes from her. Her skin shimmered softly in the yellow light of gas lamps. At the nape of her neck, he noticed a few loose locks. Lonely and cut short, they still curled proudly and wildly, as reminders of the true nature of their owner, of their lioness.

And, oh bugger, he was certain the little curls were calling him. Unwilling to restrain himself, Theo stepped toward the witch and pressed his lips to those provocative, shamelessly enticing locks. The wizard purposefully left his hands trapped in his pockets. He was not about to allow himself to grope Granger, aghh, Hermione, here, on the stinky back stairs.

Understanding the utter senselessness of his behaviour, he still stubbornly kissed and nibbled at Hermione's neck, awaiting her rebuke any minute and maybe even a painful blow to the face. The witch's volatile temperament was well known in the Wizarding world.

However, after the few first seconds, neither had come. The witch's breath became shallow, and Theo, suddenly hungry and greedy for more, let his hands free, turned the witch to face him, and kissed her lips. She didn't answer, but she didn't stop him either. Somewhat encouraged, Theo circled her waist and pressed her to him, demonstrating loud and clear the extent of his need for her.

That did it. Hermione finally sprang to life. To Theo's surprise, she didn't push him, hex him, or hit him. Unexpectedly, she did quite the opposite. Her fingers roughly pulled his hair to her, and this time her lips pressed urgently to his. The kiss quickly escalated from a passionate exploration to a desperate need. The wizard's fingers already began to inch towards the silk covered breasts. Theo's mouth ventured lower on the witch's neck, and Hermione let a soft moan float free into the night.

Alas, in the next instant, the couple was rendered motionless by loud bangs and shouts coming from the hall. Theo came to his senses first, and wand in hand, sprinted inside. Some wizards and witches ran by him in panic. When he burst into the room, there was complete chaos in there. Broken chairs and pieces of porcelain china were scattered on the floor. A thick crowd gathered in the centre of the room, and Theo could clearly hear Potter's voice shouting orders.

When he finally made it through the crowd, he saw four bodies lying unmoving on the parquet. Draco sat near, right on the floor as well. Potter's green eyes were dark, his hair wild. The sickening feeling and dull ache behind Theo's eyes came back. There on the floor was the reason for his earlier agitation. He knew it. He had felt from the beginning that something was off, and he probably could have prevented this from happening. However, he had stupidly chosen to fondle a married woman in the back alley instead.

"Fuck," cursed Theo. With that, he took his customary notebook from his chest pocket, tightly clenched his jaw, and walked toward the victims and mad-looking Potter.