A/N: Another early chapter for you guys :) I actually had something different planned for this chapter, but then figured that it didn't exactly fit into the story. I actually like this version much better. And for those of you who are wondering when Hermione is going to show up, don't worry, it'll be soon, I promise.

Finally, if you enjoy this fic so far then you should check out Colubrina. Most of this fic came as inspiration incurred by their work, especially their After-Hogwarts stories – they usually describe the fallout of war and how it affects the people involved, both on the winning side, but also on the losing side.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Title: The Past Does Not Define Us

Rating: T

Pairing: Theodore Nott/Hermione Granger

Summary: "I'm sorry." Those two words shot like an arrow through his soul and Theodore found that there was nothing he could do to stop himself from falling.

Warning(s): Mentions of child abuse and suicidal thoughts

Reviews:

Guest: You're welcome?

Myfoodisnotshared: Thank you, thank you :) I want to say something else, but I can't find the words right now to describe how happy it makes me that people like this story.

SB- Potterhead Budgie Lover: Thanks!

Chapter 4: Unease

There was a lingering coldness to the Nott family manor.

Ever since Theodore was a young boy, the place had always filled him with an inexplicable feeling of dread, a wariness and paranoia that creeped up his bones and forced him to always be hyperaware of his surroundings, even when there was no danger. But in truth, there was always a danger in Nott manor.

The portraits on the walls on the way to the dining hall were for once silent, generations of Notts peering down at him as he made his way through the drafty halls, their hallowed eyes and rabbit like faces no doubt evaluating the new lord of the house. Out of habit, Theodore's shoulders tense as he breathes out of his nose. The prickling feeling of them watching him made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end and he couldn't have been happier to reach the end of the hall, shutting the door behind him hastily; anything to escape their judgemental and piercing stares.

With a sigh, Theodore finds himself at the farthest end of the Nott's dining room table, across from his father's large velvet chair at its head.

He remembers sitting to the left of his father when he had been younger, silent and only answering 'yes father' or 'no father' when he was spoken to, which wasn't often – he knew the consequences of answering any of his father's probing questions with an 'I don't know'. He remembers how his mother, tall, dark haired, and unbearably fragile, would be at his father's right, her back straight and sitting just as silent as her son as her husband talked about his day while at the Ministry; Theodore learned from his mother that it was better to remain silent in order to avoid unnecessary punishment.

He remembers how after his mother's death, his father would sometimes not be present, most likely holed up in his office working. These were the times when he believed that his father was grieving his wife, after all he did love her in his own (twisted) way, even though it was technically his fault that she was dead (though Theodore would never say so out loud). These were the times when Theodore would be caught between relieved and terrified; he would not have to bear his father's presence, but what if Nott Sr. saw it as an offense that he would begin to eat before the lord of the house? More often than not, it was times like those which Theodore dreaded the most, resulting in him not eating at all and going to bed hungry.

He leaves the dining hall, shoulders just as tense as when he entered and makes his way back down the long hallway of portraits to the entrance hall. He doesn't so much as glance at the library door when he walks past, though he will never admit to another how his feet speed up and he begins to walk faster.

He needs to get out of here.