Duplicitous | T.N.

XXV • Selfish Hatred

It had been a week since he found out. A week of flashbacks. His mother had infested her self so deep into his mind, selfishly, he had nearly forgotten about Auroras situation entirely.

He couldn't withstand a single hour before memories of his mother plagued him. Specifically the warmth she radiated into his childhood, the only light he could grasp onto as a boy, everything else had been withered and black at the expense of his rotten father.

Memories of him were implanted in his head also. The thick ugly cloud of black that was is childhood came rushing back to haunt him. Theodore didn't know wether it was at cause of his regret and guilt or perhaps the fact another student had lost a parent triggered the rush of memories.

Whether or not, those situations were the case, Theodore hadn't slept. Those last six days he hadn't slept near as much as he should have. Dreams, or better yet, nightmares wouldn't leave him be. Whenever he did accomplish to shut his eyes and drift off, a simple memory had the power to pull him back to consciousness.

Every time he woke, he woke stolen of breath and sweating. A panting mess he would be, rubbing his head in an attempt to be rid himself of whatever his subconscious had conjured.

He had very few happy memories, all of which orbited around the presence of his mum or one of his younger maids, Amelia who was his age and a friend of his growing up but as much as he loved her, she didn't exactly engulf his mind like his mum. Whatever happy moments he did have with his mother, that made appearances in his mind, became swift reminders of what he had lost.

There he sat in Umbridges class room, with nothing in particular on his mind, everything felt distant and not quite real. His brain clearly hadn't had time to rest. He only paid half his mind as Umbridge gave out detentions like lollipops to every Gryffindor who made themselves noticeable.

Goodness he didn't like that lady, but he certainly wasn't going to do anything of it.

His thought process was interrupted by yet another memory. A darker one than most.

"When he returns, we shall be ready." The middle aged man spoke to his twenty four year old wife and five year old child. A glass of strong scotch held in his right hand. Theodore Nott Snr often came with a glass of alcohol those days, intoxicated during all hours he was with his 'family'.

After the falling of the dark lord the man hadn't been the same, Theodore was only two when the evil one fell, he hadn't been old enough to remember the faint whimpers and bruises his mother wore when she acted relieved at the news.

In the Nott household, the dark lord was a touchy subject. The man of the house worshipped him and was glad to sport the black scull tattoo on his left forearm no matter the supposed pain that came with it.

Theodore didn't see it often but when he did it never failed to send waves of coldness through him.

His mother, on the other hand, did not support pure blood supremacy, she had made the fact very noticeable about her ever since her years at Hogwarts were she was classed a blood traitor, any of her beliefs had been snatched from her at the hands of her parents and all so loving husband.

She was glad to hear of Voldemorts demise.

Whenever she showed any signs of support towards muggles or muggleborns she would be swiftly beaten and received weeks of punishment. Unfortunately for her, she was a stubborn and determined soul who was adamant on expressing her beliefs no matter the consequences.