Autumn 1991

Theodore Nott

There was a difference in the way the shadows played at dawn and dusk. One brought morning and the rapid decline of everything dark. It felt like unfeathered brightness and a banishment of things to be hidden. Dusk on the other hand, Theo preferred, when the shadows grew long and the world was draped in silken darkness. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips, as he pressed his fingers into the softness of an armchair in the Slytherin common room.

He remembered some time ago when he had been afraid of night, and his eyes would fill with tears if his father took too long to return home. Thoughts that were, rightfully, completely ridiculous to him now. He had learned that there was nothing to be afraid of. The beasts of night, werewolves and other monsters, could smell his blood, or so his father told him. They would do well to mind him because it wasn't monsters that made the night dangerous, it was wizards. And of all the old families, the Notts had the least to be afraid of. Even monsters knew to recognize the purity of blood. And it was that blood, thickened with magic, that made him special and gave him that all-desired immunity—the immunity which hadn't saved his mother.

Theo watched as the last student filed out of the common room, his breaths measured and controlled to hide that small anxious exciting feeling that pulsed inside his stomach. He reached one hand into the folds of his robes to tap gently against the vial of potion that he had decided not to use earlier.

Theo felt his stomach churn with the faintness of hunger and he did his best to ignore it. Dinner was a sacrifice he was willing to make. After all, he had enjoyed himself quite well at breakfast, eating twice or thrice as much as he normally did. Relishing and delighting in the confused and somewhat hurt look that plastered Weasley's face. He didn't feel bad and he wasn't going to be suckered into doing so. Weasley had betrayed him first, and it was only a fair trade. After all, he had given him the draught of dreamless sleep which he was sure would make up for whatever bad blood he had created.

The common room settled into an unusual silence. The lake gurgled and spluttered behind the glass of the large windows and the flames in the fireplaces crackled. Yet, the hum of conversation or the clack of shoes against stone had entirely vanished. It was quite enough that Theo could hear his heartbeat in his ears.

He stood from his chair and looked over the rest of the room. Some of the portraits regarded him suspiciously but they were in no position to stop him. Not even Weasley could ruin his plan, at least, not without getting a hex to the side of the head. Theo could manageone disaster, he had expected it after all, but he wasn't a saint and he wasn't sure he could tolerate another.

He crossed lightly to the door to the dormitories, letting a grin form fully on his lips. He wondered briefly if anyone else skipped dinner, surely someone had to have been sick or just too tired. If they had, then they kept quietly to themselves. Which was probably for the best. Theo wanted Malfoy to know that it was him, he wanted the credit and the intoxicating satisfaction. But he would delight more if he got to tell Draco himself rather than let it be known through the whispers of Half-Bloods and mongols.

He approached the other boy's dorm, the one he had previously visited when he decided to punish Draco for the half-thought-out plan to prank Weasley. It was a righteous attack, brought on by Draco's actions. Even if Theo hadn't been the intended target, it blurred the lines just enough to give him a reason for escalation. Which of course, he was bound to find one way or the other. It wasn't right that the Malfoys got much of the attention that his family deserved. After all, it was he who had to suffer for the war, not Draco.

He tried the door but found that it was locked. If he were any other firstie it might have been enough to stop him dead. Instead, he pulled his wand from his pocket and used it to quickly spring the lock. He stepped inside, the smile on his face almost slipping with the putrid smell that the dorm produced.

The other dorm may have been the worst-smelling room at Hogwarts, even more than the potions room or the greenhouses. Theo guessed it had very little to do with Draco and much more to do with the many soiled plates and cups that seemed like a small ocean around the other two beds. The house elves were supposed to clean the rooms once a week which only made Theo more disgusted with Draco's brutes given that the week was hardly halfway through.

He thought half-heartedly about calling for an elf himself, but he knew it would give him away. He didn't want anything to seem out of the ordinary, at least not until Draco had fallen into his hands. Otherwise, he might think to look too closely at his belongings and discover the plot far too early. But he wasn't a monster, and maybe if the smell had been only slightly worse, he would have left the mess to be Draco's punishment.

Theo approached Malfoy's bed and very carefully pulled back the curtain. Unsurprisingly the trapped air smelled far better than the room did. Theo took the potion from his pocket and held it in the candlelight. He could have doused Draco's bed in the elixir, by the time he noticed it would be far too late. And then, even if he was quick, someone would be bound to see him between the dorm and Snape's office. But, it was just a stupid prank. It might have worked in the great hall but there was no way it would have nearly the same social effect in the confines of 's probably what Weasley would prefer, Theo laughed to himself.

He placed the bottle under the mattress, reaching in so it was hidden and the small bump was unnoticeable in the shape of the bed. He pushed against the surface to make sure that it couldn't be felt. It would do him no good if Draco found the potion before he could tell Snape. A final option was only good if it could properly be used and he didn't want the fun to be spoiled.

Content that it was hidden sufficiently, Theo took a slight step back. He pulled up his sleeve to reveal a long written incantation he had hastily copied with a quill. It was from a book his father had given him, written by a dark wizard from long ago. He studied the words carefully, practising them in his head before he reached for his wand.

At first he said them too hastily, syllables melding together and the spell not working the way it should. The tip of his wand glowed slightly in an orange-ish hue. He tried again saying the words more carefully and pronouncing them properly. With a slightly brighter glow that bridged the gap between orange and red, Theo felt magic pulse up his arm.

Draco's pillow shimmered like silver flashing in non-existent light before it settled into its usual state. Theo took a deep breath hoping that his plan had worked. If it had not, he could still run to Snape but it was better if he had a contingency to call on later. After all, he planned to revel in Draco's misery. Which was likely to bring him close to conflict and he might have needed a means of escape.

Content that the ancient spell had done something, he closed the bed's canopy and stepped away. Taking one last look at all of the grime he made his way silently to the exit and locked the door behind him.

The perfect set plan sent a rush of anticipation coursing through his veins. Theo could hardly wait until Draco became aware of just how badly he had misstepped. Already he could see the look on Draco's face and feel the slight feeling of power that it was bound to bring him. And, thankfully, this time he would be able to enjoy everything fully without Weasley managing to ruin it. Or worse, having to deal with Greengrass' snide looks.

He crept carefully back into the common room, not bothering to hide the grin that he wore. Of course one of the portraits might have suspected that he was up to no good but they would have no way to prove it. And even if they could, Theo wasn't bothered too much. He had already washed his hands of the potion and didn't care if he got a detention or two for invading Malfoy's dreams. After all, it would be worth the effect.

Somewhere he heard a few slow footsteps which caused him to pause and quickly take one of the free armchairs. He had hoped that whoever had returned early would simply pass him by, but he was quickly greeted instead by an almost welcome face.

"Davis?" He said simply with a raised eyebrow.

Tracey gave him a nod in return and took the chair next to him. "What did you do?" She asked.

A part of him wanted to confess, only because out of all the Slytherins he had met so far it seemed that Tracey would be the most likely to understand. Yet, the other part of him, the side that whispered harshly about her blood status, urged him to say nothing. He just smirked at her, giving in to the silence. After all, he didn't want to ruin the surprise.

"Ron asked if I would look for you, I think he's worried that he's really upset you," she shifted the conversation.

"He hasn't," Theo replied lightly. Weasley had done exactly as Theo expected, it was hard to blame him for acting on his instinct. He knew no better, and frankly, Theo was impressed that Ron was as well-behaved as he was. After all, he has been raised by blood-traitors.

"I thought as much," Tracey nodded. "You skipped dinner to get revenge on Malfoy."

"Perhaps," he said through his smile. "You'll just have to wait and see."

"I thought I was the better partner? Doesn't that mean you should tell me?"

"But who would I be without a little mystery?" He asked. "Looks can only get you so far. If I tell you all my secrets, you might replace me."

"Like Weasley did?" She raised an .

"You can't all be Greengrass's partner."

"I could try."

"And then I'd be forced to work with Zabini? I'm not sure he's as good as you are."

"You could work with a Gryffindor," she suggested, which only made him laugh.

"I think I'd quite like to be partners with the boy who lived, I'm sure he would love to talk about his parents. Do you think he would tell me what they were like?"

The light in Tracey's eyes seemed to shift away. She straightened herself in her chair a little. "I don't think he knew them," she said softly. "You shouldn't joke about them."

"Why not?" He asked her, although he knew the reason why.

"Nott, you know how they died…"

"The Dark Lord," he said solidly. "Voldemort."

Theo watched her eyes widen in horror. Even in death, the man's true name incited fear, fear that Theo quite enjoyed. The mention of the Dark Lord's name was better than any muggle invention that Tracey somehow found enjoyable.

"He's an orphan," she said darkly. "You can't know what that's like."

Theo felt his smile thin. He may not have been an orphan, but he too had lost a lot. Potter wasn't the only one to suffer, and he wasn't going to pretend he was. After all, his blood mattered more. His mother's life was worth more.

"He didn't defeat him, you know?" he asked her. "It was probably his father or his mother. Even blood-traitors can be powerful wizards."

She frowned at him. "I'm a half-blood," she reminded him again.

"So?"

"So, maybe don't be such an arse. Where do you think I would be if Potter's family didn't die?"

"Here, of course."

She gave him a blank stare and stood to her feet. "I'll see you tomorrow," she said hotly.

He watched as Tracey marched away into the girls dormitory. It made him pause for a moment, as he wondered what he could have possibly said to upset her. He had only told her the truth, which he probably owed her. It wasn't his fault that Potter's parents had died, and it certainly wasn't his fault that they had died for the wrong reason. Still, he couldn't help but feel like he had done something wrong. The smaller part of him wished that he had never even brought it up. He squeezed the arm of the chair softly, no longer feeling quite as delighted about his revenge.