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slumberTitle: Nineteen Truths About Theodore
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: None (gasp)
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1900
Summary: Nineteen truths, nineteen years, nineteen drabbles. Theodore Nott in nineteen hundred words.
Additional Notes: Unedited and written in the spaces where life would let me. For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kiwi666. Happy birthday. :)
i. nineteen
Theodore dies slowly, hit not by the Avada Kedavra but by a spell that bleeds him dry. His breath is ragged, his chest constricting; he is woundless but blood is squeezed out of his pores. He’s not sure who else is dying around him, and his vision blurs until everything is reduced to splotches of colors.
In the last few minutes of staggered breathing and stinging pain, Theodore remembers. It hasn’t been a long life and it isn’t a short death. Everything flashes slowly before him, and he thinks to himself that he chose a rather fine time to die.
ii. eighteen
He doesn’t know who the first wizard he kills is, but he’s fairly certain it is an Auror who got in the way of a killing curse meant for someone else. It could just as easily have been an innocent civilian caught in the crossfire, but he doubts that. There are no innocents.
He doesn’t remember the wizard’s face. He doesn’t remember how the wizard looked like, crumpling lifelessly to the ground. He doesn’t even remember seeing the green light of the Avada.
He only hears the sound of a body hitting solid ground. It echoes repeatedly in his head.
iii. seventeen
He is Marked one year later than Draco, two months later than the others. It is a calm night in the Lestranges’ dungeons, and hooded figures surround him as he pledges allegiance to the Dark Lord. The Mark burns into his flesh, and he bites the inside of his cheek to stop himself from screaming.
“I thought you said it didn’t hurt,” he says, smiling grimly, arm still burning painfully, when Blaise asks about it.
“I said it didn’t hurt as much as I thought it would,” Blaise corrects him, and when he casts a salving charm, Theodore doesn’t protest.
iv. sixteen
Draco is angry, but Theodore is used to not having his father around. The students are wary of him, and he catches the last threads of whispered rumours as he passes by. Draco, too consumed by fury, ignores him. Pansy, no doubt under her parents’ orders, shrinks away from him. Blaise is, unfailingly, quiet and indifferent.
He goes home for the holidays. He doesn’t visit Azkaban; instead he surveys the manor, watching over house elves in their work. On Christmas Eve he sits alone at the head of the table, eating a meal made for the Master of Nott Manor.
v. fifteen
He finally gathers enough courage and that summer, he enters his father’s special library, managing to trick most of the wards to let him acquire a few choice titles. He pores over them for the rest of August, almost ignoring his assigned schoolwork, and upon returning to Hogwarts he uses his spare time to sneak into the Restricted Section for more reading material.
The Dark Arts, he finds, are a much more precise, much more intelligent form of magic, relying less on instinct and emotion than on carefully thought out processes. In the end, it is about using one’s head.
vi. fourteen
The Malfoy manor isn’t as impressive as the Notts’, Theodore thinks as a rather pathetic-looking house elf leads him to the gardens. His father and Lucius Malfoy have disappeared to the study, and he follows Draco to a stone bench after the boy dismisses the house elf.
“Things are about to happen,” Draco tells him in a nonchalant tone, eyes gleaming almost maliciously.
“Great things,” Theodore agrees. “Your father has told you as well?”
“Father tells me everything,” Draco confides, and Theodore nods.
They talk about Hogwarts next, because in truth, neither knows anything of what is about to happen.
vii. thirteen
He plans to try out for Slytherin Beater after hearing about the opening for the position, and he practices flying in secret, swinging a club against random objects transfigured into Bludgers, perfecting his aim.
*
Draco discusses the planned tryouts with an attentive Pansy Parkinson over breakfast one day.
“We’ll get the biggest and strongest for Beater,” he says. “Scrawny players don’t have as much force in them.”
*
Theodore is in the middle of finishing a Potions essay when Blaise passes by him. “They’re holding tryouts in the pitch. Do you want to watch?”
“Waste of time,” Theodore mutters in reply.
viii. twelve
None of the Hogwarts professors ever praise Theodore in class, let alone notice his performance, but Theodore is a bright and diligent student, ranking high even among the Ravenclaws and Hermione Granger. He surprises most of the faculty, who remember only the raised arm of Hermione Granger and the clusters of Ravenclaws discussing in the library.
Theodore, by contrast, stays in a corner of the Slytherin common room until late into the night, sometimes working by the light of his wand to finish all his homework. Often he is the last to leave, until Blaise decides to study with him.
ix. eleven
There are children and parents everywhere. Theodore follows his father silently, hands stiffly by his sides, back straight, eyes trained on his father’s back. Mr Nott walks briskly, taking long strides with each step. Theodore hurries to catch up but is distracted by a small girl crying into her anxious mother’s skirt.
“Theodore,” his father calls him, and he snaps his attention back to his father, slightly ashamed.
“Yes, father.”
“You’ll find a compartment in here easily enough,” his father says, gone before Theodore could even see the house elf drop his trunk.
He’d wanted to at least say goodbye.
x. ten
Draco has a broom as well, and though they are both a bit too big for their brooms they fly around the gardens with it anyway, neither admitting to trying to subtly outdo the other.
“We’ve company,” Mr Nott announces from the entrance, and Mrs Malfoy waves Mrs Zabini over from her shaded seat. The men retire to discuss business, and the women chat over tea. Blaise sits himself dutifully with them, watching Theodore and Draco with an air of boredom. Theodore lands by him and asks him if he wants to fly, and Blaise hesitates only for a moment.
xi. nine
Mr Nott begins attending parties and gatherings, and Theodore never quite knows what he is expected to do, but his father insists on bringing him along. He stands in a single spot for a great portion of the evening until his father leads him elsewhere, steering him through the crowd and introducing him to heavily glamoured women and stiff-lipped men.
“Good evening, Mr Parkinson, Mrs Parkinson,” he says politely. He brings his gaze down to eye level. “Good evening, Pansy.”
Pansy curtsies awkwardly, whispering back the greeting.
Their parents leave them, and they wonder when they’ll be allowed to leave.
xii. eight
He opens his birthday present and finds he’s been given a small broom. He is elated, and his father hires a private flying instructor for him. Gingerly he holds onto the broom handle, hovering shakily a few centimetres above ground in nervous excitement. He lets out a long breath, following the instructor when he is told to lean forward and almost falling off when the broom advances a few inches.
A few weeks later he is able to steer and dismount without incident. His father tells him he’s done well.
It is the only time he remembers being told that.
xiii. seven
The Zabinis and the Malfoys are respectable pureblooded families, his father tells him, and he nods obediently, knowing it means that they are very important people.
He is left in the parlor with two boys—one as silent as he is and another as arrogant. Draco demands for sweets and tea, which Theodore orders a house elf to bring for them; Blaise says his thank-yous and pleases. At the end of the afternoon their parents come to pick them all up, mothers delighted that their sons are friends.
None of the boys admit that they didn’t particularly enjoy the company.
xiv. six
Left alone in his father’s library, Theodore soon tires of all the books he finds difficult to understand. It is a restless day, however, and he decides to look for more interesting books—something with pictures, perhaps.
He touches the spine of a thick black book at the bottom of the shelf, intending to read its title, when it screeches suddenly. Theodore stumbles, blinded and howling in pain.
His father appears out of thin air, with a flick of his wand removing the curse on Theodore and, after Theodore begins breathing more evenly, forbidding him from visiting the library unsupervised.
xv. five
Theodore is given a nanny to watch over him while his father attends to business during the day. He is a quiet child and has no interest in running around the halls of the Nott manor, which is fortunate, as Mrs Whitaker has no breath left in her to chase him around.
They both like walking, however, and one day after tea, when it is too rainy to enjoy a stroll outside, they take to exploring the manor, finding themselves inside Mr Nott’s library.
Theodore has never seen books until then, and that afternoon he is taught how to read.
xvi. four
Nobody tells him anything, and Theodore wonders why he is no longer allowed to see his mother, or why she wouldn’t even come out. His questions are met with silence and the cold, impenetrable eyes of his father, who tells him it isn’t his place to ask.
It is a quiet day when he is dressed in itchy black robes and told to stay quietly by his father’s side. He wants to ask what is going on but knows better, not knowing what’s happening until months later, when he sneaks into his mother’s room and finds it emptied of everything.
xvii. three
Theodore learns to walk fairly early, and by the time he turns three he runs around frequently, knocking everything down until he runs into his indulgent mother’s open arms.
He is let loose around the garden one summer morning, and it is in an attempt to grab a stray pixie that Theodore’s foot catches at the gnarled root of a tree. He falls hard, chin and knee scraping against the rough ground, tears stinging his eyes. His mother is upon him immediately, cradling him while she charms the pain away.
There are few other times he’d ever feel as safe.
xviii. two
They know he’s a clever boy, not because they are expected to have overrated views of their son, but because he is a naturally smart child, even as a toddler.
“He started speaking early,” Mrs Nott tells her friends proudly, while Theodore wakes up squirming in her arms.
“Milk,” he commands, standing up in his mother’s lap and faltering only slightly before he rights himself again, tiny fingers clinging to his mother’s shoulders.
Mrs Nott’s friends coo over him and, to their delight, Theodore giggles adorably.
He knows what he wants, and he’ll grow up knowing how to get it.
xix. one
It isn’t an easy birthing; the Mediwitches take their turns inside the ward for more than a few hours each, wiping sweat off their brows as they come out, reassuring Mr Nott that his wife is doing fine. He fumes in silence, calming down only when the Head Healer comes out all smiles, informing him that he’s a son.
Theodore Nott, named after his grandfather, is born on a warm summer day and, swathed in soft cloth and held close by his mother, he blinks sleepily before falling asleep.
“He chose a fine day to be born,” a Mediwitch remarks.
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: None (gasp)
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1900
Summary: Nineteen truths, nineteen years, nineteen drabbles. Theodore Nott in nineteen hundred words.
Additional Notes: Unedited and written in the spaces where life would let me. For
kiwi666. Happy birthday. :)i. nineteen
Theodore dies slowly, hit not by the Avada Kedavra but by a spell that bleeds him dry. His breath is ragged, his chest constricting; he is woundless but blood is squeezed out of his pores. He’s not sure who else is dying around him, and his vision blurs until everything is reduced to splotches of colors.
In the last few minutes of staggered breathing and stinging pain, Theodore remembers. It hasn’t been a long life and it isn’t a short death. Everything flashes slowly before him, and he thinks to himself that he chose a rather fine time to die.
ii. eighteen
He doesn’t know who the first wizard he kills is, but he’s fairly certain it is an Auror who got in the way of a killing curse meant for someone else. It could just as easily have been an innocent civilian caught in the crossfire, but he doubts that. There are no innocents.
He doesn’t remember the wizard’s face. He doesn’t remember how the wizard looked like, crumpling lifelessly to the ground. He doesn’t even remember seeing the green light of the Avada.
He only hears the sound of a body hitting solid ground. It echoes repeatedly in his head.
iii. seventeen
He is Marked one year later than Draco, two months later than the others. It is a calm night in the Lestranges’ dungeons, and hooded figures surround him as he pledges allegiance to the Dark Lord. The Mark burns into his flesh, and he bites the inside of his cheek to stop himself from screaming.
“I thought you said it didn’t hurt,” he says, smiling grimly, arm still burning painfully, when Blaise asks about it.
“I said it didn’t hurt as much as I thought it would,” Blaise corrects him, and when he casts a salving charm, Theodore doesn’t protest.
iv. sixteen
Draco is angry, but Theodore is used to not having his father around. The students are wary of him, and he catches the last threads of whispered rumours as he passes by. Draco, too consumed by fury, ignores him. Pansy, no doubt under her parents’ orders, shrinks away from him. Blaise is, unfailingly, quiet and indifferent.
He goes home for the holidays. He doesn’t visit Azkaban; instead he surveys the manor, watching over house elves in their work. On Christmas Eve he sits alone at the head of the table, eating a meal made for the Master of Nott Manor.
v. fifteen
He finally gathers enough courage and that summer, he enters his father’s special library, managing to trick most of the wards to let him acquire a few choice titles. He pores over them for the rest of August, almost ignoring his assigned schoolwork, and upon returning to Hogwarts he uses his spare time to sneak into the Restricted Section for more reading material.
The Dark Arts, he finds, are a much more precise, much more intelligent form of magic, relying less on instinct and emotion than on carefully thought out processes. In the end, it is about using one’s head.
vi. fourteen
The Malfoy manor isn’t as impressive as the Notts’, Theodore thinks as a rather pathetic-looking house elf leads him to the gardens. His father and Lucius Malfoy have disappeared to the study, and he follows Draco to a stone bench after the boy dismisses the house elf.
“Things are about to happen,” Draco tells him in a nonchalant tone, eyes gleaming almost maliciously.
“Great things,” Theodore agrees. “Your father has told you as well?”
“Father tells me everything,” Draco confides, and Theodore nods.
They talk about Hogwarts next, because in truth, neither knows anything of what is about to happen.
vii. thirteen
He plans to try out for Slytherin Beater after hearing about the opening for the position, and he practices flying in secret, swinging a club against random objects transfigured into Bludgers, perfecting his aim.
Draco discusses the planned tryouts with an attentive Pansy Parkinson over breakfast one day.
“We’ll get the biggest and strongest for Beater,” he says. “Scrawny players don’t have as much force in them.”
Theodore is in the middle of finishing a Potions essay when Blaise passes by him. “They’re holding tryouts in the pitch. Do you want to watch?”
“Waste of time,” Theodore mutters in reply.
viii. twelve
None of the Hogwarts professors ever praise Theodore in class, let alone notice his performance, but Theodore is a bright and diligent student, ranking high even among the Ravenclaws and Hermione Granger. He surprises most of the faculty, who remember only the raised arm of Hermione Granger and the clusters of Ravenclaws discussing in the library.
Theodore, by contrast, stays in a corner of the Slytherin common room until late into the night, sometimes working by the light of his wand to finish all his homework. Often he is the last to leave, until Blaise decides to study with him.
ix. eleven
There are children and parents everywhere. Theodore follows his father silently, hands stiffly by his sides, back straight, eyes trained on his father’s back. Mr Nott walks briskly, taking long strides with each step. Theodore hurries to catch up but is distracted by a small girl crying into her anxious mother’s skirt.
“Theodore,” his father calls him, and he snaps his attention back to his father, slightly ashamed.
“Yes, father.”
“You’ll find a compartment in here easily enough,” his father says, gone before Theodore could even see the house elf drop his trunk.
He’d wanted to at least say goodbye.
x. ten
Draco has a broom as well, and though they are both a bit too big for their brooms they fly around the gardens with it anyway, neither admitting to trying to subtly outdo the other.
“We’ve company,” Mr Nott announces from the entrance, and Mrs Malfoy waves Mrs Zabini over from her shaded seat. The men retire to discuss business, and the women chat over tea. Blaise sits himself dutifully with them, watching Theodore and Draco with an air of boredom. Theodore lands by him and asks him if he wants to fly, and Blaise hesitates only for a moment.
xi. nine
Mr Nott begins attending parties and gatherings, and Theodore never quite knows what he is expected to do, but his father insists on bringing him along. He stands in a single spot for a great portion of the evening until his father leads him elsewhere, steering him through the crowd and introducing him to heavily glamoured women and stiff-lipped men.
“Good evening, Mr Parkinson, Mrs Parkinson,” he says politely. He brings his gaze down to eye level. “Good evening, Pansy.”
Pansy curtsies awkwardly, whispering back the greeting.
Their parents leave them, and they wonder when they’ll be allowed to leave.
xii. eight
He opens his birthday present and finds he’s been given a small broom. He is elated, and his father hires a private flying instructor for him. Gingerly he holds onto the broom handle, hovering shakily a few centimetres above ground in nervous excitement. He lets out a long breath, following the instructor when he is told to lean forward and almost falling off when the broom advances a few inches.
A few weeks later he is able to steer and dismount without incident. His father tells him he’s done well.
It is the only time he remembers being told that.
xiii. seven
The Zabinis and the Malfoys are respectable pureblooded families, his father tells him, and he nods obediently, knowing it means that they are very important people.
He is left in the parlor with two boys—one as silent as he is and another as arrogant. Draco demands for sweets and tea, which Theodore orders a house elf to bring for them; Blaise says his thank-yous and pleases. At the end of the afternoon their parents come to pick them all up, mothers delighted that their sons are friends.
None of the boys admit that they didn’t particularly enjoy the company.
xiv. six
Left alone in his father’s library, Theodore soon tires of all the books he finds difficult to understand. It is a restless day, however, and he decides to look for more interesting books—something with pictures, perhaps.
He touches the spine of a thick black book at the bottom of the shelf, intending to read its title, when it screeches suddenly. Theodore stumbles, blinded and howling in pain.
His father appears out of thin air, with a flick of his wand removing the curse on Theodore and, after Theodore begins breathing more evenly, forbidding him from visiting the library unsupervised.
xv. five
Theodore is given a nanny to watch over him while his father attends to business during the day. He is a quiet child and has no interest in running around the halls of the Nott manor, which is fortunate, as Mrs Whitaker has no breath left in her to chase him around.
They both like walking, however, and one day after tea, when it is too rainy to enjoy a stroll outside, they take to exploring the manor, finding themselves inside Mr Nott’s library.
Theodore has never seen books until then, and that afternoon he is taught how to read.
xvi. four
Nobody tells him anything, and Theodore wonders why he is no longer allowed to see his mother, or why she wouldn’t even come out. His questions are met with silence and the cold, impenetrable eyes of his father, who tells him it isn’t his place to ask.
It is a quiet day when he is dressed in itchy black robes and told to stay quietly by his father’s side. He wants to ask what is going on but knows better, not knowing what’s happening until months later, when he sneaks into his mother’s room and finds it emptied of everything.
xvii. three
Theodore learns to walk fairly early, and by the time he turns three he runs around frequently, knocking everything down until he runs into his indulgent mother’s open arms.
He is let loose around the garden one summer morning, and it is in an attempt to grab a stray pixie that Theodore’s foot catches at the gnarled root of a tree. He falls hard, chin and knee scraping against the rough ground, tears stinging his eyes. His mother is upon him immediately, cradling him while she charms the pain away.
There are few other times he’d ever feel as safe.
xviii. two
They know he’s a clever boy, not because they are expected to have overrated views of their son, but because he is a naturally smart child, even as a toddler.
“He started speaking early,” Mrs Nott tells her friends proudly, while Theodore wakes up squirming in her arms.
“Milk,” he commands, standing up in his mother’s lap and faltering only slightly before he rights himself again, tiny fingers clinging to his mother’s shoulders.
Mrs Nott’s friends coo over him and, to their delight, Theodore giggles adorably.
He knows what he wants, and he’ll grow up knowing how to get it.
xix. one
It isn’t an easy birthing; the Mediwitches take their turns inside the ward for more than a few hours each, wiping sweat off their brows as they come out, reassuring Mr Nott that his wife is doing fine. He fumes in silence, calming down only when the Head Healer comes out all smiles, informing him that he’s a son.
Theodore Nott, named after his grandfather, is born on a warm summer day and, swathed in soft cloth and held close by his mother, he blinks sleepily before falling asleep.
“He chose a fine day to be born,” a Mediwitch remarks.
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no subject
Date: 2005-09-20 01:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-09-24 06:19 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-09-20 01:31 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-09-24 06:21 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-09-20 03:00 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-09-24 06:21 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-09-20 04:09 pm (UTC)It hasn’t been a long life and it isn’t a short death. Oof.
and #14 - great little snapshot of the deatheater children.
no subject
Date: 2005-09-24 06:23 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-09-20 04:17 pm (UTC)And I got your card today! It wasn't late! I tried to text you but my phone wouldn't let me. Just so you know, your present probably won't be with you on time either =P
Love you. Miss you. xxxx
no subject
Date: 2005-09-24 06:24 am (UTC)Ooohh just in time! That's fabulous. :D Lol, s'okay, love. Miss you too, and you're moving into uni today whee! :D:D
no subject
Date: 2005-09-20 04:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-09-24 06:24 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-09-20 11:46 pm (UTC)apologies for the crap-arsed typing - my shift keys are broken lol
no subject
Date: 2005-09-24 06:25 am (UTC)And that's okay, there was a time I had to replace c, d, and e with hyphens, too. :P *snugs*
no subject
Date: 2005-09-21 01:19 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-09-24 06:26 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-09-21 03:31 am (UTC)I love good genfic so much, and it's so hard to find.
Although I thought I saw some carefully veiled hints at Blaise/Theodore--that wasn't just wishful thinking, was it? Hee.no subject
Date: 2005-09-24 06:32 am (UTC)Thanks. :D
Hahaha, you know me too well. But shh. :$no subject
Date: 2005-09-26 05:07 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-06 04:08 pm (UTC)He goes home for the holidays. He doesn’t visit Azkaban; instead he surveys the manor, watching over house elves in their work. On Christmas Eve he sits alone at the head of the table, eating a meal made for the Master of Nott Manor.
That bit killed me. :(
no subject
Date: 2005-12-10 07:15 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-05-25 06:12 am (UTC)"At the end of the afternoon their parents come to pick them all up, mothers delighted that their sons are friends."
(That part brought a smile to my face.)