Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Pairing: Theodore Nott x Daphne Greengrass, kind of.

Warnings: Character death. Mentions of noncon, mentions of incest.

Dear Astoria,

Jesus Christ, where to start, where to start? This could take a while.

I guess since this is all my mum's fault, I could start with her. I could start with ihowi it's her fault-with the curse she cast eighteen years ago. Or, I could start with her clockwork left arm, which also has a lot to do with why I'm here, why it's come to this. But I think I'll start with her first fiance, the dead one.

When my mum was in her seventh year in Hogwarts, she was betrothed to some bloke named Selwyn, who, for reasons mostly summing up to he was too much of a pussy to join the Death Eaters along with her, threw himself off the Astronomy Tower before the year was up. Before he jumped, he wrote up this elaborate suicide note explaining his rationale, which included a few good reasons for why he wanted out besides the 'pussy' thing, but I can't be arsed to remember them all, not with the poison going to my head as fast as it is.

So this bloke Selwyn, he writes this letter, but instead of addressing it to the woman who would eventually become my mum, he addresses it to her brother, my uncle Jack or Jerry or Max or whatever-the-hell his name is-I can't be arsed to think of that, either. Only ever met the guy once. This bloke Selwyn sends his suicide note to my uncle instead of my mum, maybe because he's afraid he'll hurt her. And this...this is kind of like that. I'm writing to you because I'm scared to tell Daphne the truth, because the truth is so, so much worse than me being too pussy to become a Death Eater like Dad wants.

You're probably wondering about the clockwork hand. Or, maybe, you're wondering what could have made me do a thing as extreme as poison myself, or maybe you're even running to the floo to call Daphne right now, screaming into the flames that Theodore's gone off to kill himself and if she hurries she can save me, and we can live happily ever after...don't. Finish reading first, because there's a very good reason why I'm not the bloke Daphne needs to live happily ever after with. Where were we? Right, the clockwork hand. The reason my parents don't talk. Also the reason Dad is insistent that I become a Death Eater.

When Mum and Dad were still in school, Mum convinced Dad to run off with her and become a Death Eater. That was never part of his plan. He was going to be an Auror or some shit, but she only had to say the word and he'd cancel all his plans and join her. He loved her.

Well, really, he thought she was gorgeous, but I guess at the time it could have felt like love.

This was after that bloke Selwyn offed himself.

By the time the First War was winding down, that started to wear off.

By the time the First War was winding down, Mum was getting worried. She knew Lord Voldemort was going to lose. She knew if she didn't defect, she'd be chucked into Azkaban. She knew if she did defect, though, the Death Eaters might get to her before the Ministry did and kill her anyway.

Being the incredibly smart but undeniably crazy woman that she was, she took the fastest exit strategy she could see and amputated her left arm at the elbow. This way the Dark Lord couldn't use the Dark Mark to track her.

Dad never forgave her.

After the Dark Lord fell, after he went through all the red tape, after the Ministry bought his story about being under the Imperius Curse, after Mum got a clockwork prosthetic in the place of her amputated hand, after they'd put together a barely-respectable McManor and settled down with a cat and a few House Elves and made me, after everything stabilized, he could never get over the fact that she, who convinced him to give up his future, who turned him to the proverbial dark side, whose idea it was to join the Death Eaters in the first place, defected.

So they didn't talk.

And when I said I didn't want to be a Death Eater it was like a slap in the face for him, but that comes later.

'Cheated' was the word Dad always used. He felt cheated, he said. And Mum wasn't the one going around seeing other people.

You're probably wondering how I know all this about my folks' past. That or you're on the floo with Daphne, which, again, don't do it.

Being less than ten, with parents that don't talk to each other, you'd be surprised how much information flows your way. See, when they're not talking to each other, they talk to you.

I'd have Dad coming in with milk and cookies and instead of a bedtime story, a personal soliloquy: "Maybe it's my fault. Your mother and I have had some problems ever since the war ended...but maybe we'd get along better if not for all the stupid mistakes I made...I really didn't have to go and cheat on her."

The next day I'd have Mum coming in with the milk and since I was less than ten and didn't know any better, I asked, "Mum, what's cheating?"

"Damnit, Theodore!" For a second, I thought she wouldn't answer, but then she caved, because who else was there in the bloody house for her to talk to, the elves? And she said how, you know how grown-ups will sometimes have lie-down kisses in bed together when they're in love? Well, cheating is when you have a wife or husband or girlfriend or boyfriend, but you roll around in bed with someone who's not that person.

Then came my bedtime story: "Maybe it's my fault your father cheated on me. I never could satisfy him...frankly, it's a wonder you're here. I just don't enjoy the act of coitus...don't blame me, though, blame the bastard who raped me," she added in a mutter, leaving eight-year-old me with more questions.

When Dad would come in next with the milk and the soliloquy, I was at the ready with, "What's rape?"

Just like Mum, he went, "Damnit, Theodore!" But eventually he gave up the information, because who else was there in the bloody house for him to talk to, the elves? And he said how, you know how grown-ups will sometimes have lie-down kisses in bed together when they're in love? Well, rape is when you take someone who doesn't love you and force them to come to bed with you, and he asks where I got that word.

And because I'm not the lonely, desperate one, I lie. I say I heard it from one of the elves.

I remember maybe one time that I got a proper bedtime story. It was from Mum. She came in at midnight-or I thought it was midnight. When you're nine years old, any hour between eleven and five is midnight. Anyway, she comes in at what I would later learn was a time called 'three in the morning', reeking of what I would later learn was Firewhiskey, in a state of mind I would later recognize as 'drunk'. She barged into my room and knelt next to my bed and started reading out of Beedle the Bard, because "Dammit, Theodore, you need some fiction in your life. Merlin knows you've had enough of this 'reality' business to last a lifetime. I'm shocked you're not already mad!"

The noise drew Dad, I guess, because Mum was halfway through that Fountain story when he showed up in the doorway. "What are you doing, dear?" he asked. His voice was ragged with sleep. The word 'dear', the way he said it, carried a tone I would later come to know as 'sarcastic'.

"You only live once," said Mum. "It'd be a shame for the boy to live without fairy tales."

Dad's eyes fell to the ground, and mine followed his, and that's when I noticed the blood.

That's when I realized Mum was dying.

The whole while she bled out, Dad just stood there with a callous expression on his face. He didn't call for help. He didn't rush to her side. He was silent and still until the light left her eyes and I heard the clatter of her clockwork prosthesis hit the hardwood.

I would later learn that what Mum used to do for fun, instead of snogging or cuddling or coitus with Dad, was, she would go out to pubs and get roaring drunk, and then proceed to challenge strangers to illegal backalley wizard duels. It was how she dealt, I guess. The wound that killed her was a Sectumsempra to the gut.

You're probably wondering about Mum's curse by this point. That or trying to get a hold of your sister. Half-sister, I should say, as I'm sure you're aware. But trust me. I wouldn't waste my last moments writing all this out if I didn't have a very good reason. I wouldn't send this to you if I wanted to talk to Daphne. Daphne can't know this shit, and I'll tell you why, but first, I'll tell you about the curse.

It was at Mum's funeral that I met my uncle Jack or Jerry or Max or whatever his name was, the one that bloke Selwyn wrote the suicide note to. He gave a really splendid eulogy for his dead sister, and when he was done, tactless, nine-year-old me, I said, "I never thought anyone would have such nice things to say about Mum."

He looked puzzled for a bit, and said, "Don't you? I mean, I know she wasn't the nicest."

"She was nice," I shrugged. "Just kind of..."

"A sociopath?"

I didn't know the word, but I didn't want to look stupid, so I nodded.

"I'm sure she was a fine mother," Uncle Whatshisname went on. Which, she was. "She took care of her own, that was how she always was. Hey, you're lucky you're not your dad's other child."

Now I was curious.

"It's not a big deal, really," said Whatshisname. "Not to you, at least. If you want to know the story, though...

"When your mum first found out your dad had been...unfaithful...she was angry. She could have taken it out on him or the other woman, but somehow it occurred to her to take it out on the woman's unborn child. She put a curse on the kid...you've heard of the way the Defense post at Hogwarts is cursed? It's sort of like that. She cursed this unborn child to suffer through all the misery she had suffered through."

"All the misery...?"

"Yep, so you've got a brother somewhere that's probably being raped by his family as we speak..."

"Mum was raped by her ifamily?/i" I gawked. This was a new concept for me. I knew what 'rape' was, and I knew it was an act of force, and even though my family wasn't especially loving I knew families were supposed to be, generally.

"She never told you?"

I shook my head. Uncle Whatshisname sighed. "I guess now that she's dead, it can't hurt her pride anymore...if you have to know, it was her father."

So there you have it: I've explained the dead guy, the clockwork hand, and Mum's curse. You're probably wondering how my death ties into this. How Daphne ties into this. To answer those questions, I'll return to the topic of me not wanting to be a Death Eater, which is partially why I took the poison, but not entirely.