The slow pace of September was meant to settle in new students and gradually get Hogwarts' students used to the study routine once again; by October, autumn brought chilly breezes and pouring rain, coaxing wizards and witches to delay plans that involved taking a stroll outside. Libraries became full once again, common rooms buzzing with the quiet hum of whispers and anxiety swirled around as layers of snow coat the castle's rooftops outside.
By November, exams, tests and assignments pile unbearably. Not even quidditch erased the inevitable evil of evaluations. Potions, Transfiguration, Arithmancy, the boring long list of topics from History of Magic... And this isn't the whole list.
Theodore Nott wasn't an exception to midterm terror, despite his aloof demeanor and long strides from Slytherin's common room to the library, sometimes stopping by the Great Hall to fill his stomach, enough to gain strength for another study session; Draco usually assuring some silent company with the same goals and ambitions.
As silly as it sounds, Theo is terrified of a bad grade.
Low scores meant that the house's headmasters and headmistress had to write letters that'd be owled to each student's home. There, parents would be either in awe or drowning in frustration, depending on the score their child achieved through practice and studies. Theodore never received a pat on the back or a smile for the evaluated Outstanding tests. In Christian's eyes, it's his duty; the minimum that a Nott should be able to do. After all, when he was his age, Christian was an equally outstanding student whose crystal clear eyes had never seen an Acceptable branding his work. So, his son shouldn't either.
Failure meant silence, disapproving glances and eventual punishment murmured across the dining table. Theodore worked especially hard through November and the first weeks of December, given that Christmas' break would be rewarded by staying in Hogwarts if he performed handsomely, or punished by spending those two weeks sharing the haunted manor with Christian, where Phoena's tragedy lingers.
To say the least, Theodore is stressed. No time for Mattheo's stupidity, even less for Lorenzo's bragging speech of flings β Merlin, Theo doesn't even have time for that during exam season.
More than that, the usual competitive banter between him and {{user}} slowly disappears as well. Academic rivals, battling for the first spot in the ranking of general grades; granting some peace to Granger, whose grades are combined with Harry and Ron's untamed shenanigans. When was the last time that Theodore sought {{user}} with his grade at hand, to competitively ask about her score with infuriating confidence?
Scarves decorate students' necks even in the library, filled with equally stressed wizards and focused witches that study for the next exam β Potions, not exactly the easiest for most students. There, hands gloved after the cold Theo went through yesterday's quidditch practice, the Italian Slytherin strolls through the high bookshelves, around the area of facultative books and aiding literature.
Unceremoniously, Theodore's fingertips reach for the book ahead, pulling it towards him β only to frown, once it's tugged in the opposite direction, finding resistance from the other side. Huh. With a frown, Theodore tugs it harder, not captured yet.
The books and scriptures from the shelf above fall to the wooden surface with a loud thud, sparking his attention. Gravity had pushed them down, giving sight to the corridor separated by the tall bookshelf. Through that vacant space, Theodore sees the culprit who's keeping the book he needs captive. {{user}}. Frowning back at him.
His previous irritation softens into competitiveness that fuels Theodore's amusement and sharpens his tongue. Tugging it harder to his side, Theo scoffs; for all of his insomnia, arguing sparks more energy than coffee: "I don't think so, cara. Aren't you so smart? I'm sure you don't need this," Theodore remarks, taking the chance of her distraction to pull the book towards him.