And so, he stayed.
He was slightly loathe to admit it, but it felt nice, not having to get up and leave his area of residence every few days. To wake up each morning, see the faint sunlight streaming through the windows, and know that ahead of him was another day at the Hog’s Head, and not another day fruitlessly trying to find work.
Granted, working at the Hog’s Head was no great deal “ it was, no matter how much cleaning and polishing Theodore was made to do, a rather dismal and dirty pub, with company that was usually less than pleasant (putting it mildly). This ‘pleasant’ company, of course, included the barman himself, who usually did little more than grunt and speak in phrases that consisted of as few words as possible get his point across.
Theodore was not particularly happy with his work, but he did enjoy the steady income, and that was enough reason for him to get through his day-to-day. He had even been cutting down on his alcohol intake slightly (though this was partly because of the scathing glares he had received each time he ordered whiskey from Aberforth. Which had meant that he would need to visit other pubs to buy his alcohol, and, being rather lazy, he usually did not want to do this).
“Kid, go take care of that woman, eh?” Aberforth called over to Theodore one mid-December afternoon. Aberforth was busy booking rooms for several customers.
Theodore had been occupied washing down several tables, but at Aberforth’s instruction, he abandoned this task and moved towards the little table where a young female had just sat down.
“Hi,” Theodore greeted. “Can I get you anything?”
She glanced up at him from a small notebook that was sitting on the table. She looked somewhat familiar, though he couldn’t place where he knew her from. “Just a butterbeer, please,” she said.
Theodore fetched her requested drink, and returned with it in hand. “Here you go.”
“Thanks,” she said, and as she met his gaze again, her eyes flickered with slight confusion, seeming to see him for the first time; then soon the confusion turned to recognition. “Oh, hello, I didn’t know who you were at first. Nott, isn’t it?”
He nodded.
“Cho Chang,” she replied, with a faint, uncertain smile. “I was at Hogwarts with you? Not in the same year, but . . .?”
“Oh, yeah.” That must be why he knew her face, but did not know the name. Just one of the many people at Hogwarts whom had always been a face to him, just a face, not a strange face but not entirely familiar either. Did that make her a stranger to him? Oddly, Aberforth’s words from weeks ago resounded in his ears:
What is a stranger? Is it someone who doesn’t know you, and doesn’t want to? Is it someone who doesn’t know you, and wants to? Or is it someone who doesn’t want to know you, and so only sees what they want to based on that fact?
“You don’t remember me, do you?” she asked, watching him.
“No, no, I do,” he said quickly, attempting a smile. Great, she had spoken again. Did that mean she wanted to have a conversation? Theodore wasn’t much of a chatter; all his years as a loner had not exactly given him much training in socializing with others. As she was a customer, however, he supposed he ought to try and have a short talk with her, seeing as that seemed to be what she wanted. “Hogwarts. Yeah. Hufflepuff, weren’t you?”
“Ravenclaw,” said Cho.
Damn it.
“Erm, right,” said Theodore, blustering for words. “So, um, how’ve you been since Hogwarts? What are you up to?”
“Things have been all right,” said Cho with a shrug. “I’m working as a reporter for Witch Weekly now.”
“That’s pretty neat,” said Theodore, feeling this sort of comment was supposed to have such a reply.
“It’s mostly gopher work at the moment, I’m still working my way up.”
“Well, you’re writing some stuff, aren’t you?” He gestured to her journal that was sitting on the table.
“Small stuff,” she said, tone uncaring even though a small smile had appeared on her face. “Little side articles and whatnot. So, what have you been doing?”
Theodore shifted his weight, slouching slightly to his left. “Lot of odd jobs, mostly. Now I’m working here though, full-time.”
“That’s nice,” said Cho.
He shrugged, his eyes on his shoes, increasing uncomfortable with the forced conversation. “I guess so.”
There was a pause.
“Well, I’ve got . . .” said Cho, apologetically, motioning to her notebook. “You know, work. It’s pretty . . . demanding. Especially since the end of the war “ “ She stopped abruptly, and flushed, lowering her eyes briefly before meeting his gaze again. “I’m sorry, I didn’t “ “
“S’okay,” said Theodore promptly, unfeelingly. He really did not want sympathy.
Another pause.
“Well, enjoy your drink,” Theodore said at last. “Give a shout if you want a refill or some food or anything.”
“Yes,” she agreed quickly, and with a last fixed smile in her direction, Theodore scurried off and resumed his washing of the tables, half-wishing he could transform into one. Good Merlin, what an ordeal.
He should have just given her the drink and left. It’s what his several-year-younger self would have done; he had always used to shy away from people, from any situation that would require true interaction. But no, instead he had to try and be kind and courteous and polite. Screw being kind, it hadn’t done any good! She probably wished he had left her alone in the first place now.
It was about fifteen or twenty minutes before Cho Chang took leave of the Hog’s Head, stashing away her notebook and moving quickly out the door. Theodore was behind the counter when she left, and he kept his eyes steadily downward, fixing them on the drink he was pouring for the current customer, before handing it to them.
“Good God, kid, what was all that about?”
Theodore jumped. He had not heard Aberforth come up behind him.
“What?” said Theodore defensively, turning around to face the barman, his back to the counter.
Aberforth just shook his head, and moved to pour himself a glass of wine.
“What? What’d I do?” Theodore persisted.
Aberforth raised his eyebrows at his drink. “Hmm, weak, very weak. And entirely too fruity.”
“Look, you can’t just say something and then ignore me like this “ “ Theodore told him, irate. “Besides, I “ that was “ I was trying to be polite, having a conversation, it seemed to be what she wanted “ I was only “ “
“Can’t serve this to any people, that’s for sure,” Aberforth muttered to the cup. “Maybe the goats would like it though . . .”
“I could have just ignored her, but that would’ve been rude “ I never knew her very well, but I mean, it’s not like I didn’t know her, and saying something seemed to be expected “ “
“Maybe some port instead,” Aberforth mumbled, dumping his glass’s contents into a dish and pouring himself a drink from a fresh bottle before taking a sip. “Yeah, much better.”
“ “ and it’s none of your business anyway,” Theodore concluded, fumblingly, messily tying up his very poor explanation.
“Whatever you say, kid,” said Aberforth, speaking to him at last, before turning around, dish in hand, and moving outside towards his goats.
Theodore stood for a moment, quaking slightly with indignation, as he debated what to do.
“I’m going to leave!” he then shouted after the barman’s back, threateningly (though also somewhat childishly). “I’m going to pack up and leave this place and not come back!”
“You do that!” Aberforth shouted back to him.
Theodore went back to cleaning the tables, scowling, slamming the dishtowel rather harder than needed against the wood surfaces.
***
“Seven Sickles for the lot.”
“Seven Sickles!” the seller cried, outraged. “That’s barbaric, that is! See here, young man, the price for dragon meat by the pound is fifteen Sickles “ and seeing as you have a pound of dragon meat and a dozen eggs, I’d say you’d best give me none of your cheek and cough up the full price of twenty-one Sickles.”
“Seven Sickles for the lot,” Theodore repeated, his expression unchanging. Aberforth had told him that this was what he was to pay, no more, and Theodore intended to follow this.
“I’ll knock it down to an even twenty Sickles, and that’s all,” the woman clerk responded.
Theodore shook his head. “Seven,” he insisted, haggling.
“Twenty.”
“Seven.”
“Twenty.”
“Seven.”
“. . . . Nineteen.”
“Seven.”
“Look, young man, I don’t have time for this, there are other customers waiting to be helped “ “
“Really?” said Theodore, looking around in mock surprise, a smirk twitching at his lips at the sight behind him: no one was standing there. Several other witches and wizards were standing in the shop, still looking over at the various items, but none were in line save for him.
“You’re shooing them all off!” the woman said, rearing up defensively. “Now you can either give me the fair price, or leave.”
“Seven Sickles,” said Theodore calmly.
“That is not “ “
“I don’t have any other money, ma’am,” said Theodore, widening his eyes at her beseechingly, trying to paint the perfect picture of innocence with his expression. “And this food “ I need it, ma’am, please “ and this money here, this is all I got “ “
The statement of him having no money was actually true “ he did not have any other money in his pocket aside from the seven Sickles Aberforth had given him “ but he did have some more money stashed away in his room at the Hog’s Head. But, you have to do what’s needed done for your job, right?
“Save the sob story,” said the woman harshly. “If you were as poor as you’re saying, you wouldn’t be trying to buy dragon meat, of all things, there’s plenty of cheaper meats.”
“Please, ma’am, please take these seven Sickles “ “
“I will not “ “
Their conversation was interrupted, however, by a slender, olive-skinned hand being slapped down beside Theodore’s palms, which were resting against the counter’s edge. The hand pulled away, revealing a cluster of fourteen silver Sickles.
“This’ll cover it, I think?” said a lax female voice near his right ear, and turning his head, Theodore saw Cho Chang standing beside him, smiling over at the cashier. “When you add this man’s seven Sickles to them, that is?”
The woman glared at Cho, but could hardly turn her away, so with a jerky nod she consented. “All right.”
“That’s not necessary “ “ said Theodore hastily, to Cho.
“It’s fine,” she said simply.
But it isn’t fine, Theodore thought. Still, it was too late for him to object further: the sales woman had already taken their money, and handed him his bag of purchases “ and Cho was already walking out the door. He rapidly chased after her.
“Hey, wait! Chang!”
She didn’t slow or look around at him, but he managed to fall into step beside her after a few moments.
“Yes?” she asked, looking forward.
“You really didn’t have to do that “ I’ll make it up to you, if you come to the Hog’s Head really quick, I’ll give you back the Sickles “ “
“It’s fine,” Cho said again expressionlessly, still keeping her gaze frontward, not looking at him. “Really.”
“Can’t I just “ “
“Truly, it’s all right. Now I don’t mean to be rude, but I’ve got to hurry off “ “
“Why did you give me the money if you loathe me so?” Theodore burst out, impatient with her.
There was a slight quiet in the conversation; she still didn’t look at him though. “I don’t loathe you, Nott.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” Theodore muttered dryly.
“I don’t. Now, I really should be going “ “
Theodore cut her off. He was tired of her beating around the bush. He was tired of everyone beating around the bush his whole life: his father; the kids and staff and Hogwarts; the other Death Eaters; shopkeepers; Ministry workers; Prophet writers; Aberforth Dumbledore; all of them. He wanted answers, answers to everything, on what precisely even he was not sure anymore; his frustration at the situation was too big to really understand or comprehend.
“You pay for most of my purchase, but then you turn up your nose when I try to talk to you. What am I supposed to think, Chang?”
She stopped walking, and finally, finally, turned to look at him, her brown eyes pensive as they took him in. He did likewise, halting his steps and turning his body towards her.
“What do you think?” she asked at last, after a moment of silence.
“I don’t know!” Theodore exclaimed, then drew in a deep breath, trying to calm himself. “You seem to dislike me, I thought you did, and it still seems like you do “ but then you went and gave me money. I don’t understand it. I don’t understand any of it.”
“I didn’t give you the money because I like or dislike you,” said Cho slowly.
“Then why did you give it to me?”
“I guess because it seemed like the right thing to do,” she said, after a slight hesitation.
Theodore snorted; he didn’t believe in ‘right’ and ‘wrong’ anymore. Hadn’t believed in them for a long time, in fact.
Cho’s face hardened at his noise of ridicule. “Well, if that’s how you want to act about it “ “
“No, don’t be like that “ listen, I just “ “
“What?” Cho snapped, irritable yet also interested: and it suddenly occurred to him that she probably found him just as frustrating and perplexing as he did her.
Theodore took in a large breath through his nose. “I just . . . don’t understand it. Your motives, your actions.”
“Sometimes, I don’t either,” said Cho, both bitterly and jokingly, and her eyes were suddenly rather moist. “I’m just doing the best I can, Nott, all right? I don’t need you critiquing and analyzing my every movement.”
He hunched his shoulders. “I “ I’m sorry.” He didn’t think he’d ever said that before while meaning it.
Her face remained hard for a long moment, then her features softened slightly. “Me too. This week, we both haven’t really been very. . . . I mean, I know we knew each other at school, it’s not like we were strangers, but we still never really. . . . But now . . .”
“Yeah,” said Theodore, “I know.”
He turned around and started strolling slowly along the street again. To his slight surprise, Cho began walking beside him. They moved along in silence for some time, their shoulders hunched around their necks for extra warmth, heads bowed and eyes following their feet, the cold winter winds blowing subtlety in the trees.
“So, how have you been since Hogwarts?” Cho finally inquired. “I mean, really been. Not just, you know, where’re you’re working and such. If you don’t mind me asking,” she added hastily, glancing over at him.
“No, I don’t mind you asking,” Theodore replied slowly. “It’s more if I mind responding.”
“Oh,” said Cho.
“Things have been . . . interesting, I guess,” Theodore told her, haltingly. “After Hogwarts, I mostly just . . . wandered around a lot. A tramp, you might’ve called me, but not really by choice.”
“I don’t understand,” said Cho, puzzled.
“No one really wanted to hire me,” Theodore elaborated slightly. “And if they did hire me, it was never for more than a few days. Because of my father,” he went on, when she still looked befuddled, and her eyes went dark with the sudden understanding. “They heard his name, my name “ and they instantly associated me with him. I mean, can’t really blame them, I never did anything to distance myself from him, but I never took a stand with the Death Eaters either. So they all likened him to me, I guess, which really made working a problem.”
“I’m sorry,” Cho offered, seeming sincere.
Theodore looked down at his shoes as he shrugged. “It was . . . partly my fault too, I guess. I mean, I never would really “ I would never do much to try and convince them otherwise.”
“Still,” said Cho, “it must’ve been rough.”
He nodded, still looking downward. “So, what about you?”
“Oh, just dealing with the aftermath of war, same as everyone else,” said Cho, and as he looked up from his feet he noticed she was watching some point above her head with a fixated air as she spoke.
“How so?” he asked.
“Well, you know.” She glanced at him once, then turned her eyes away. “Destruction, deaths . . .”
“Whose deaths?”
“My “ my mom’s.”
I wonder who’s hands did that, he thought, his stomach sinking, as the faces of the many Death Eaters he knew so well flashed through his mind. “I’m really sorry,” he told her, before he recalled something else. “And a few years ago “ Diggory was killed “ “ He stopped. “That was a really insensitive thing for me to say, I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right, that was years ago.”
“I’m sure it still hurts.”
“It does, but not as much. And I’ve learned that always blubbering about the past, and wallowing in what has already happened “ doesn’t “ it doesn’t do any good, it doesn’t change anything.”
He nodded his head. They lapsed back into silence as they walked on.
“I really do have to get back to work now,” said Cho with a slightly grimace, as she checked her watch. “But maybe I’ll . . .” She glanced at him uncertainly.
“Maybe you’ll stop in to pay for more of my purchases again?” Theodore suggested, grinning wryly.
She smiled back at him. “Something like that. Well, see you later “ Theodore.”
“Bye, Cho,” said Theodore, and even after she had Disapparated, he found himself still smiling at the spot where she had just stood.
A/N: Personally, I’ve never really liked Cho Chang, she always seemed like such a whining crybaby. However, people do grow up and change, even Cho. I hope I pulled off a believable characterization for her. Please feel free to leave a review letting me know what you thought of how she was portrayed here, and what you think of the story overall as well. :)