Chapter 4 – Dangly bits…Ha!

25 March 2010

Dagworth-Granger Manor Library

Sussex

Theo Nott

I don't think I've seen Drake (he hates when I call him that) move so fast in all my life. The fucker walks like a panther after it's prey. He saunters, he commands attention. Salazar, he moved like that as a toddler. Here I am tripping over flat surfaces, but that douchebag moves like a well choreographed dance. Fucker, practically ran out of the library! I've never seen anything like it in the time I've known him. Except just now, ha…he hit his shoulder on the door frame.

The important question, I mean this should be a priority on everyone's minds. The entire fucking room should be lynching the damn barrister! Cries of outrage should be heard all over Sussex, NO, all over the world! Where the ever living fuck is my damn tiara? That fucking windbag could have left me something! I truly believe the aquamarine and diamond set in gold would have really brought out my eyes.

Fuck, she was sharp, that one. I definitely had an immense amount of respect for her. She was such a tiny thing, but you'd never notice it. She moved with authority, she was almost ethereal. She was always overdressed, always had on a fucking tiara, and always smelled like a fresh rose.

I couldn't help, but to respect her. Damn, the woman was a fucking menace, though. She was able to cast legilimens both non-verbally and wandlessly. Her push into you mind was so gentle, you didn't even feel it, and if you did it was like puppy crups and rainbows filling your mind. I didn't even feel it the first time. She appeared so unthreatening, you wanted to hear what she had to say, she would draw you in with her intelligence, or her salacious gossip, and the next thing you know, you are letting your guard down and she knows everything you have ever fucking done in your entire fucking life.

Even in her death she found a way to fuck my life up. Draco is going to act like a little cunt for months now. I saw his face when Granger was mentioned. It took him years last time to get over himself.

Merlin, how could I forget! The old bat made us sign that parchment because of me, I just know it. I can't keep a secret to save my life. Fuck, I do try, but it's so…but this is Granger! GRANGER!!! I don't know if I see the relation. They are both insufferable know-it-alls. They were both just brilliant. Both of them rambled incessantly when they were nervous. Both of them were damn bleeding hearts, Granger with her elves and Phea apparently with everything else. Granger lacked the je ne sais quio Phea had.

In sixth year, I found myself studying in the library with Granger, Hannah Abbott, and Padma Patil. We took the same classes. Before I knew it, without any real discussion about it, we just gathered in the library every night after dinner, and did our homework together. I tried to flirt with Granger, of course I did. She was a cute little thing. It was like she was immune to the opposite sex. Like I was just one of the girls. I tried to make it a game, but there was just something vulnerable about her. She was so serious, but she was just so fucking sad like someone avada'd her cat.

As the year progressed, she got a little better. Sometimes Hannah and Padma would talk about boys. Yeah they'd sit there and gossip like I didn't have a fucking dick. Granger, though, she would curl into herself and sometimes blush. It was cute, but it was like Granger was completely unaware that she was gorgeous.

Eighth year we were all forced to go back to Hogwarts. Granger was just broken. I don't know who broke her, probably the Weasel, but she was just done. She didn't give two fucks about anything, which had a certain entertainment quality about it, if I do say so myself. Second term once her and Drake started, whatever the fuck they were doing, I guess I'll have to admit Granger could have been related to Phea.

Phea she was great. I'll miss her. She didn't allow me to call her Phea like Drake did until about a year ago. Drake called her Aunt Phea because he couldn't pronounce Ophelia when he was a wee tyke. I was forced to call her Madame Dagworth-Granger. Last year she just walked into my office and said, "I believe you may call me Phea from now on, Theo." Then she swept out of the room as if she said nothing at all.

Phea saved my life. Not in the literal sense, but she gave me direction. It wasn't easy. We definitely didn't hit it off at first, but in the end I loved that hag!

19 November 1999

Draco Malfoy's Townhouse

London

Theo

Drake had been ignoring my owls for a couple weeks now. Fucker is insufferable when he's content, but Drake all sad and depressed is fucking intolerable. He's my best friend, and I just can't let him continue moping about. He could at least mope and be depressed at The Leaky with me, I hate drinking alone. It's a Friday night for fuck's sake.

I floo into his admittance room, posh fucker.

I walk towards his parlor and yell, "Hey Fucker! Where the fuck….oh, there you are Drakey I've missed you!"

He's sitting with an old woman I haven't seen in quite some time, Ophelia Dagworth-Granger she was dressed in a red ball gown with a ruby tiara.

She looks offended as she is eyeing me up and down, "Drakey??!! That is no way to address my godson. Let's see what we have here. Tall, lanky, terrible posture, loud mouth, and beautiful eyes….you must be a Nott."

I smile, I must not tell lies. "Yes, ma'am. Theodore Thoros Nott at your service." I gently take her hand and do my best to bow at her without falling on my face.

She hums, "You are permitted to address me as Madame Dagworth-Granger."

Drake looks annoyed and asks, "Theo what are you doing here?"

I smile at him, He looks like shite. "My dear friend, I have spent the day being harassed by the Aurors, yet again. They are convinced that business with Azkaban was more than some barmy guy with a revenge plot. The guy left a note and everything."

Drake sneers, "Yes, the Aurors were here yesterday. They have no clue what was used and are convinced one of the Sacred 28 have something to do with it. I told them the same thing I've told them the other three times, I had nothing to do with all those deaths, and when they are ready they can bring in their best legilimens. The Ministry won't release inheritances until they have a full investigation. Once I'm Head of House…"

No we aren't doing this…I interrupt, "Why isn't Skeeter all over this? Where the fuck is she. There's been hardly anything in The Daily Prophet. Shouldn't she be accusing Granger or some shite. She accused the poor girl of everything else that happened during the war, and then after Christmas last year, nothing…."

Madame Dagworth-Granger interrupts, such bad manners! "Mr. Nott The Daily Prophet is under new management as of last December. I bought it. It is now under the management of DG Potions and Holdings. I could no longer abide the inaccurate reporting taking place. It's a shame Miss Skeeter discontinued her employment with us once the take-over was finalized. The Daily Prophet was ran by the Babbling family for generations. Bathsheda Babbling, as you know, is quite happy with her job as the Ancient Runes Professor. Being the last Babbling in England, she happily sold us the holdings for the paper. Such a lovely woman. The Babblings were salacious gossips, the lot, but they were intelligent and had a way with words. Very similar to the Notts, however the Notts were always so cruel. Men become cruel when they are scared. The entire hatred towards muggle and muggle-borns stems from the first muggle world war. Yes there was prejudices towards muggle-borns prior to that war, but it was more to do with the socioeconomics of the previous centuries. We had the Statute of Secrecy, but purebloods never hid from muggles, we just hid magic from muggles. Most Purebloods held muggle titles. My Hector was a Baron, the Notts are Lords, and the Malfoys hold the title of Duke. We entertained muggles and would interact with them quite a bit until that war. The muggles had developed some deadly weapons. The men became frightened. There are two things men will not abide, fear and toying with their dangly bits. ( Ha! Fuck, this crone said, 'dangly bits!!! ') The men, Ha…Ha…Ha, they were scared! Men are by nature, cowards. They feared muggles for the first time in centuries and their masculinity couldn't tolerate the calamity of it all. They wanted total isolation from muggles. They bought forth ancient laws that suppressed muggle-borns and created new ones. Those who didn't immediately agree, were then labeled Blood-traitors. The Malfoys, Notts, and Blacks all lost important women in The Blitz in 1940 during World War 2. It was dreadful business. The stage was set so to speak and Purebloods totally isolated themselves from the muggle world. It was only a matter of time before someone exploited these men."

She looked over at me. "You don't appear to be cruel. Your mother was a Burke, correct? Doesn't matter, I know I'm right. It's the hair, the honey brown color is from the Burkes. My grandmother was a Burke. Many, many moons ago my hair was same color as yours."

She finally takes a breath and I say, "I never knew my mother. I think my father killed her."

She looks at me and seems to be contemplating something. Whatever it seems to be, must have won, "Well yes. Dahlia was quite young when she married your father. He was much older than her. He was nearly 40 when he married Dahlia. He was a handsome and charming man when he wanted to be, but," She whispers, "he was quite the lady's man." She winks and continues, "Dahlia never would have married him if I still arranged marriages like I did before the first war. She was too kind for the likes of Thoros Nott. However, you must know, your father did not kill your mother. No, your mother was poisoned. You must know, poison is a woman's weapon."

If poison is a woman's weapon then that must mean….

She rudely interrupts my internal epiphany, such intolerably bad manners, old hag. She states, "Mr. Nott, you seem quite intelligent. I have been trying to persuade my Draco here to take over my company, I am much too old to continue. He must get out of the house and focus on other things. You should as well, day drinking is for the middle aged. ( How the fuck did she know? ) I have an opportunity for you…."

Two weeks later Draco was training as C.E.O of DG potions and Holdings, and I was the new Chief-in-Editor of The Daily Prophet.