sugar & spice

chapter two

It was poetic, truly, that the bathroom she found herself in was the very same she'd holed up in during first year. There were no trolls this time around-small favors-but the shame, for all the impetus was different, felt very much the same.

No one had come out of the war unscathed. Everyone had PTSD, some worse than others. It wasn't her intention to bury her head in the sand and pretend she wasn't emotionally and mentally battered, but she didn't exactly relish the fact that her nerves and emotions were so shot that one terse confrontation with Malfoy-who hadn't even said anything except that bit about his chin-sent her to tears.

Troll or no troll and embarrassment aside, she couldn't remain hidden in the ladies' forever. She'd left her bag and belongings behind in the library which meant heading back to retrieve them, and face Malfoy and Nott once more. Hopefully they'd be willing to sweep her outburst under the rug, like Nott had yesterday when she'd been a little too quick on the draw with her wand.

Blotting her eyes with a tissue she then vanished, she left the lavatory and ran smack dab into the human equivalent of a brick wall. A little oomph slipped from between her lips as she staggered back a step. Two arms rapidly reached out to keep her from falling on her bum.

The scent of clove assaulted her senses.

Theo.

Righting herself, Hermione took a step back, placing enough distance between their bodies that his arms dropped back to his sides. She met his eyes, eyes that unlike hers weren't red-rimmed and glassy but instead dark and sharp. "Thank you. I was just on my way back to the library."

For the first time, a fraught silence passed between them. He reached up, scratching the back of his neck before sighing. "I came to apologize."

She crossed her arms. "For what?"

"I guess I deserved that." He laughed briefly before sobering and staring directly into her eyes in a way that left her feeling uncomfortably vulnerable. "I'm sorry for goading you, which was what I was doing in case you weren't sure. I was needling you until you-"

"Burst?"

He lifted one shoulder in a lazy shrug that somehow didn't make him look like a slouch, but like he had more worthwhile things to do than pour his whole self into such a simple gesture. All he needed was a Muggle leather jacket and a cigarette and he'd give James Dean a run for his money, a total wizardly rebel without a cause. Or maybe it was just plain aristocratic nonchalance. "I really did mean it, the part about you airing your grievances. I thought it better to get it out of the way now in a predictable, controlled setting than wait for it to happen under less desirable circumstances."

She chewed on that, worrying her lip. "You're acting as if it were inevitable, the airing of my grievances."

He graced her with another arch of his brow. "What's that saying, the truth will out?"

Not that she was particularly fond of his methods, but her grievances as he called them, had been simmering for so long that maybe her outburst was long overdue. Since third year, probably, when she'd actually punched Malfoy. "So what, you decided to face it head on? That's practically Gryffindor of you, Nott."

"And I suppose I should take that as a compliment from you? Doesn't bravery get your lot, I don't know, hot?"

Her eyes widened, making him laugh.

"Don't get your knickers in a twist, Granger. Besides, it was rather self-serving of me, lest you worry your pretty little head about my true colors."

It was her turn to lift a brow in question. "What, listening to me berate you and your-your boyfriend was self-serving? I didn't realize you Slytherins got off on that sort of thing."