Still Waters Run Deep

Ten

He couldn't remember how he got back home, but, the next morning, he woke up with a splitting headache, feeling ready to skin someone, preferably a particular messy-haired, dorky-looking Auror. No wonder that, when he staggered into his office and found Potter waiting for him, his knuckles collided with Potter's face even before he registered the thought.

About six weeks later

A familiar scent filled his nostrils, and he smiled. With a sleepy hum, he wrapped his arms around her, seeking more of her comforting warmth, and muttered, "What took you so long?" He tried to bury his nose in her hair, but she turned or shifted away, leaving him empty-handed and cold.

"Theo," he heard her calling: her voice, tinged with urgency, sounded slightly off-key.

"Shh," he said dozily, still trying to get closer to her.

"Theo, wake up," she said again, this time with more force.

"Shush, Granger, be quiet," he grumbled, already annoyed by her unwillingness to cooperate. Stubborn witch, he thought, still not inclined to open his eyes. The next moment, however, he felt something cold and sharp burrowing into his temple and heard a soft "I'm sorry." Cold panic prickled down his spine as a memory flashed in his slumberous mind and 'Obliviate' rang in his ears.

His eyelids flew open, and he sat up with his wand already hoisted and ready to strike.

"Easy, detective," he heard Draco's amused drawl. "It's just me." Whirling his head toward the voice, he found his friend perched on the armrest of the sofa. "I tried to wake you up, and you called me Granger," Draco said with wry amusement. "Not that I'm not flattered, of course."

"Shut up," groaned Theo, rubbing his throbbing temples and wishing that everything around him would stop spinning. "What are you doing here?" he said when the pain in his head receded and his vision returned to normal. Groggily looking around, he reckoned that he had managed to doze off on his settee with his nose buried in a pillow, which apparently still held Granger's scent and, perhaps, was responsible for the idiotic dream he had just had.

"What do you mean, 'what are you doing here'?" Draco said, pouting mockingly and feigning hurt feelings. "I haven't seen you in more than a month. I've missed you, darling."

Theo straightened and cursed as he noticed a small puddle of beer that had spilled from a bottle of Carlsberg caught between him and the pillow. After cleaning the mess and slamming the now-empty bottle onto a coffee table, he lit a cigarette and took a deep draw. "Cut the shite, Draco. I'm not in the mood," he said between puffs of smoke.

Draco stood up and moved to the armchair, his face suddenly serious. Focusing his concerned eyes on Theo's face, he said, "As you wish. What the hell happened between you and Granger? It seems that everyone knows something except me, and that's hardly fair, don't you think? So, here's the deal: I have a couple of hours before my date with Astoria, and I'm all ears."

Confused, Theo arched his brows. "Come again? You have a date with Astoria?" Draco shifted uneasily under his probing gaze, and if Theo hadn't known him for ages, he would have thought that his friend was blushing. He knew better, though – Malfoys didn't blush. Ever.

"Well, these past weeks …" Draco paused and drew a sigh. "Let's just say, I had an eye-opening epiphany. I didn't come to it entirely by myself, mind you. Scorpius helped me quite a lot." He sighed again. "He told me so many unpleasant things – frank, but unpleasant nonetheless. I never knew I had been such a full-of-shite self-centred jerk. I still am, I think, and probably will be for the rest of my life. At least, I'm listening to my son now. I have to try to change, mate – for Scorp, for Astoria, for our family."

Bewildered beyond all measure by this sudden confession, Theo only managed a noncommittal 'hmm'.

"It's not only that," Draco continued, his face pensive. "Remember that day when Granger almost died? The way Astoria blasted me with that spell? It was so fucking sexy. I never thought she'd got the balls. All these years, I've been wrong and blind –of the two of us, she's clearly the one who's got them. By the way, she refused to take my money, and warded her Floo against me."

"She did?" Theo muttered. This was getting more interesting by the second. If he was completely honest, he would never have expected something like that from Astoria. Now, listening to Draco, he had to confess to himself that he'd grossly underestimated her as well. Stereotypes, he thought. He had been certain that he'd managed to get rid of them years ago, but, apparently, old habits die hard.

"It's been a few weeks, though." Draco was still talking. "We've worked it out, although not without Scorpius' help, of course. We have our second date today, and I'm kind of nervous." He chuckled; his smile, however, didn't quite reach his eyes. "It helps with the guilt, you know. I feel so bloody guilty about Pansy and those other people, but especially Pansy. I should have paid more attention to my son, to his surroundings, his feelings. "

Theo nodded. "Yes, you probably should have."

"Yeah, I managed to screw up this whole parenting thing spectacularly. Blaise explained it to me rather well, the other day."

"He did, didn't he?" Theo smirked.

Draco absentmindedly rubbed his jaw. "Too well, I'd say. Apparently, you're not the only one who likes to throw punches left and right."

Finding that fact surprisingly amusing, Theo let his grin widen and said, "You can't really blame him – he does love Scorp like one of his own."

"Oh, shut it, and wipe that smirk from your face, would you? I really don't understand where you two picked up this plebeian habit." With this, Draco's uncharacteristic thoughtfulness gave way to his usual cocky manner. "Speaking of which," he said, "I heard you tried to kill Potter?"

"Maim would be a more accurate description." Scratching his unshaved cheek, Theo took a deep draw of his cigarette and puffed another cloud of smoke. "Potter deserved that punch. He said so himself."

"Care to explain what this is all about?" Once again, Draco's expression was one of genuine concern.

After a momentary consideration, Theo stood up, said, "Come," and strode to the kitchen, beckoning Draco to follow him. Once there, he focused, pressed his wand to his temple, pulled out a smoky, white string, which contained a clipped version of Granger's memories, and carefully placed it in the Pensieve. "Here. That will explain some of it," he said, and gestured to Draco, inviting him to take a look. Draco blinked, threw a wary glance at him, and dived into the memories.

Theo was on his third cigarette when Draco reappeared on the threshold of his living room, sat down near him, and, with a weary sigh, muttered, "Fuck."

"Indeed," Theo said.

"I think I'm going to need one of those." Draco pointed to the cigarette clutched between Theo's fingers. Theo wordlessly summoned one for him, and for a while they smoked in complete silence.

"Did Potter have a hand in that?" Draco said eventually. "Other than what I saw."

"He was the one who set the Weasleys on her," Theo said, and his jaw tightened. Even now, weeks later, he couldn't think about it without getting furious.

Draco cursed under his breath, pinched the bridge of his nose, and said, "I can't say that I blame you for punching him, then. To be honest, I'm surprised that you didn't cause any permanent damage."

"I tried. Stephen hauled me from him."

"Good … I guess, 'cause I really don't fancy the idea of visiting you in Azkaban." Draco's attempt at a joke didn't quite work. "There's just one thing I don't understand: where the hell was I? How is it possible that I didn't notice a bloody thing?"

"You were on your honeymoon with Astoria. If I recall correctly, Lucius sent you away and banned you from coming back until Astoria got pregnant. It took you a while." Theo couldn't help snorting, and earned a shove to the ribs from his friend.

"What about Blaise, Pansy, why didn't they know?"

"I've no bloody clue." Theo's temples began to throb once again. "I don't remember anything, anything at all. Just those crumbs that she chose to show me. Perhaps we weren't ready to advertise our … whatever it was."

"Right," said Draco, and they fell silent, both deeply engrossed in their ponderings.

"You know," Draco suddenly said, "if you had shown me that two months ago, I wouldn't have given it a second thought. I would have said: forget about it and move on."

Frowning, Theo turned to him. "And now?"

"Now, I say: Granger is a b-" Draco faltered under Theo's warning glare and rephrased, "She's been a naughty girl, there is no doubt about it. Then again, what did you expect from that lot? When cornered, they act, consequences be damned; we all know their credo. Yet you're crackers about her. Think about it, mate. It took her, what, one smile, and you were ready to do anything for her. I saw your face when she was choking on that tea. You would have killed for her. She's the one – it's as simple as that. She always was, I reckon." He puffed a last cloud of smoke and put out the cigarette. "I hate these things," he said, grimacing and muttering cleaning charm on his fingers. "So, where was I? Ah! Now, she's free and obviously all yours. She wants you, and you want her. So what if this happened fifteen years later? Why waste the opportunity? I say: let bygones be bygones and take what is yours."

"I don't know. I'm still so bloody angry with her, it hurts," Theo said. A hard clump of bitterness lodged itself in his throat.

"I understand that, mate. Seriously, I do. I just don't think this anger worth clinging to." The clock on the wall chimed five times. Draco sprang up, said, "All right, I have to go," and walked to the Floo. "Damn, I almost forgot," he exclaimed when halfway there. Returning to the middle of the room, he dropped a little parchment on the coffee table. "Astoria asked me to give you that." He turned on his heel, threw a last "Think about it" over his shoulder, and disappeared in green flames, leaving Theo alone with his thoughts.

The room was quiet, except for the ticking of the clock on the wall. Puffing one cloud of smoke after another, Theo tried to rationalise his thoughts. He hadn't seen Hermione since the evening he'd thrown her out, nor had he seen Potter after their little scrimmage. He knew from the Prophet that the Granger-Weasley divorce had been finalised last week. That news brought Rose and Hugo to his mind, as he wondered how they were faring. Having grown up without a mother, he always felt compassion for kids caught up in any sort of family crisis, though he was sure that Hermione and the Weasley clan had done everything possible to cushion the blow.

Other than that, however, he had tried his best to avoid thinking about Hermione over these past weeks. His mind, though, didn't agree with his decision and kept bringing thoughts about her to the surface when he couldn't control them. He dreamed about her almost every night, and that fact annoyed the shite out of him. To wake up to an empty bed was even more frustrating.

He hated it, the whole damned situation – he bloody loathed it. Before all this had struck, he had been all right. Maybe he hadn't been the happiest wizard on earth, but he had been perfectly content with his life. Not any more. Now that he'd seen glimpses of how it might have been, his solitary life had suddenly become a burden. The possibilities that his sneaky conscience kept showing him drove him berserk. Draco was right, if only about one thing – he fucking wanted her. Despite his anger and distrust, he still wanted to have her for his own. But how? How was he to learn to trust her again?

"Let bygones be bygones - easier said than done," he harrumphed, and vanished the cigarette. His gaze fell on Astoria's parchment, and he grabbed it from the table. Expecting some sort of thank-you note, he opened the parchment and was dumbfounded to find Hermione Granger's new residence address. For a fleeting moment, he seriously considered destroying that damned piece of paper, just because he was still livid. That urge didn't last long, though, and finally, after a short contemplation, he stashed it in his pocket. Muttering, "Damn you, Granger", he stood up, grabbed his jacket, and left his flat.

Ten minutes later, still brooding, he walked into the detectives' quarters, where he stumbled upon Anthony, sitting at his desk and reading the Sunday Prophet, a cup of steaming hot coffee near him. Caught by surprise, Theo exclaimed, "What are you doing here, Tosh? It's Sunday, and I don't remember your being released to work."

Anthony raised his head, looked at him, and smiled sheepishly. "Oh, come on, boss. I'm so freaking tired of sitting at home with Sonya trying to baby me to death. Honestly, I think I've gained a stone. I swear, if I'll eat one more … no, if I even smell something resembling chicken soup, gefilte fish, latkes or any other kind of tzimmes, I'll go crazier than that blasted elf – what was his name? – Perkins."

Theo snorted. 'That bad, eh?"

Anthony rolled his eyes and muttered, "You haven't the slightest idea. Don't get me wrong, though, I love Sonya more than life. She is my … everything." He smiled. "I just haven't drunk coffee for ages." And he took a swig from his cup.

"Well, I'm glad you managed to escape, then." Feeling a pang of unexpected and inexplicable envy, Theo gestured toward the Prophet. "Is there anything noteworthy?"

Anthony wrinkled his nose and said, "Nah, nothing, just the same domestic rubbish as always." He sighed and began to read in a bored monotone. "All right, we have one drunken debauch at the Leaky. One unfaithful husband who had his balls shrunk to a size of a raisin. Xenophilius Lovegood had another minor Wrackspurt infestation, which landed him in St. Mungo's." He sighed. "A flower shop in Diagon Alley has been vandalised again. Apparently, two former friends had a shop decades ago. Then they had some kind of disagreement, split, and opened their own shops. The sad part is that they've kept wrecking each other's lives by their unending rivalry ever since. Reportedly, this time at least forty-five exotic orchids, sixty begonias, and fifty African violets were destroyed." He snorted and shook his head. "So stupid. Why people chose to cling to the past is beyond me. Why not let bygones be bygones?"

"What did you say?" Theo said.

"Umm …" Anthony threw a puzzled glance at him and repeated, "Forty-five orchids, sixty begonias, and fifty African violets."

"No, no, after that," said Theo impatiently.

Mystified even more, Anthony said, "Why not let bygones be bygones?"

Theo raked his fingers through his hair and muttered, "Why not, indeed."

Antony frowned. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, Tosh, nothing," Theo said, staring at the wall and pondering an idea that had just formed in his head. "I think I need to be somewhere just about now. See you on Monday, and kiss Sonya from me."

Invigorated by a sudden clarity, Theo hastened from the room, and Anthony's "Whatever it is, boss – good luck!" reached him when he was already at the door.

He didn't need to look at the address again. He had memorised it without registering the fact. He knew the street, and decided to walk. The cold November wind attacked him fiercely, but he didn't feel it. On the contrary, he felt warm and surprisingly, perhaps idiotically, optimistic, and, most of all, finally at peace with himself. "Let bygones be bygones" rang in his mind. Of course! It was so simple and so bloody brilliant.

In about forty-five minutes, he stood on the steps of a neat-looking brick house. The front door was slightly ajar, and he let himself in, hoping that Hermione was home, and preferably alone. It was warm and cosy inside. Soft jazz was streaming from the wireless that stood on the dining table, and Theo could hear Hermione singing along in one of the rooms. Moving toward the voice, he soon reached a brightly-lit veranda, and easily located her perched on a windowsill, though he wasn't sure exactly what she was trying to do.

Her back was turned to him, and he took a moment to appreciate her soft form, which was clad in blue knitted trousers and a simple white tee. Her hair was longer now, and her wild curls formed a ridiculous halo around her head that glowed in the reddish glimmer of the sunset. Somehow, the sight of her made him smile. She looked … lovely.

Shaking his head at the sappy sentiments that had popped into his mind, he said, "Do you need help with those shutters?"

Startled by the sound of his voice, Hermione toppled down from the windowsill, forcing him to dash across the room. He barely managed to catch her in time.

Gathering her in his arms and pressing her to his chest, he muttered, "Careful."

"What are you doing here?" she said, her voice muffled against his jacket.

"I think it's pretty obvious: saving a damsel in distress, " he said with a chuckle and buried his nose in her hair, hungrily inhaling her scent.

"No, really, Theo, what are you doing here? I need to know." Hermione drew back from him and peered into his eyes. "I need to know," she repeated, her voice quivering. "Being in your arms like that. I just can't, I need to be sure that there's a chance for you to forgive me. Because …" She drew a shaky breath. "As guilty as I am in all this mess, I don't think I'm strong enough to lose you again. So, please, tell me: why are you here?"

Tears filled her eyes. She sniffled and the tip of her nose turned pink, making her look so vulnerable that his heart tightened painfully. He clasped her face between his palms, wiped her tears with his thumbs, and kissed her, though not before whispering against her lips, "Shut up, Granger."

The End

Here we go, my dear readers. Hope you like this final instalment of my noir-esque tale. I started this story two and half years ago. So much has changed since then, it's scary. It's been trying at times, but I managed to finish this fic. So, yay! Though, to be honest, I'm a bit sad. I've fallen in love with Theodore Nott. He's quite a babe, isn't he?

But, fear not, my darlings. I have a new story already brewing in my mind. And it's Harry, Hermione, Draco one. Hehe ;)