A/N: Chapter One! I'll go ahead and say this is slightly AU where the trio is concerned.

14th August 1991

It was a cold night in London. For the first time since his mother had passed, Theodore was summoned to his father's study. Nott Sr. was a shrewd, old-fashioned man of pure lineage. It was rare that he graced his son with his presence — but when he did, it was never good. Memories of his mother on her deathbed penetrated Theodore's mind as he raised a hand to the large, mahogany door and knocked. It stood open an inch or two, but he didn't dare enter without making his presence known.

"Come in," his father voiced, distantly.

Theodore hung back a moment, collecting the nerves in his chest and forcing them down, to an uncharted crevice of his heart. It was summer, and yet, cold winds howled above and around the Manor, in such a way that he felt it in bones. Without another moment to spare, he slowly opened the door, causing the hinges to creak as a tall, dark-haired man of similar stature and demeanour to all the tall, dark-haired men that came before him, stood silently.

"Father." Theodore fell to the hardwood floor, head down in a bow.

There was a moment of silence before Nott Sr. turned away from the window and faced his son, whisky in one hand and an embellished dragon-core wand in the other. "Rise."

Theodore scrambled to his feet, brushing the wrinkles from his trousers, biding time before he was meant to look his father in the eyes. When he did, a jolt of fear went through the poor boy. Nott Sr. had that way about him - a stillness that drove fear into anyone who dared make eye contact.

"Your acceptance letter arrived in the post," he disclosed, staring down at his eleven-year-old son. "I trust you know what this means."

"Yes, sir. I . . . I am to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I will be sorted into Slytherin. I . . . I will distance myself from the other boys, and I will not dishonour our most sacred name."

The older wizard narrowed his dark blue eyes and nodded once, in a show of approval. "Correct," he said, hands shaking as he poured himself another glassful of whisky.

Theodore watched from a distance and swallowed hard, ignoring the pang of worry in his chest. Nott Sr. was far past his prime, and his drinking habits slowed him down significantly, but he was the only family Theodore had left. Over the years, his and his father's relationship became estranged. I remind him of too much of her, Theodore knew. The housekeepers told him as much. He was very young when his mother died, but he knew enough to determine the source of his quiet, subdued nature. Part of him liked having that in common with the late Olivia Nott, but he also hated it, as it deprived him of the childhood he craved so very much.

Olivia died of natural causes, and yet her son was to blame.

Father looks at me and sees only her, her and the cold reminder that she's gone, that I'm all he has left. A meek, worthless son who dishonours him by breathing the same air.

It was a strange thing for a child to grow up knowing, Theodore supposed, but he was different from the other children. He was forced to cope with death at a dauntingly young age. More than that, he could see things others couldn't.

"Come here," his father beckoned, breaking the boy's train of thought.

Theodore looked to him and stepped closer, apprehensively.

Nott Sr. took a drink from his whisky, carrying the stench in his breath as he knelt down in front of his son, and revealed to the boy, his left forearm. There was a faded, reddish mark etched into his skin. "What is this?" the man asked, looking steadily at his heir.

Theodore ignored the panic in his chest. Panic was for cowards, and he refused to be one. "The Dark Mark," he answered, proudly.

His father nodded. "Yes, and what does it mean?"

"It — " Show no fear. Show no weakness. "It means you were a follower of The Dark Lord before he was eradicated by The Boy Who Lived."

His father nodded a second time. "Good," he said. "That boy is to attend Hogwarts in September. You will befriend him by any means necessary. Is that understood?"

Theodore blinked wide, startled by the information. "Yes, sir," he quickly said. "I . . . I'll try my best."

"You will not try. You will do," his father corrected. "It is most important that you succeed. Draco and the other boys will foolishly attempt to do so by means of social hierarchy and peer pressure. You will do the opposite. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir," he nodded, aware of his father's distaste for the Malfoy clan.

"This boy . . . Harry Potter . . . he will most likely be sorted into Gryffindor," the man continued. "He will not trust you."

Theodore didn't flinch. He knew of the rivalry between Slytherin and Gryffindor. "I'll make him trust me."

"No," his father countered. "You will wait. You will observe. You will take time and do what is necessary. If and when the day comes, you will bring him here and I will deal with him then on. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir."

1st September 1991

Countless students waved farewell to their families. The younger ones lingered on the platform, unready to part ways with childhood as they knew it, whilst the older ones hopped aboard the Hogwarts Express, reconnecting with friends and exchanging stories of what happened over the summer.

Theodore, on the other hand, had arrived to Platform Nine and Three Quarters on his own, wheeling what looked like an entire library of books in his cart, underneath which rested his trunk. In some ways, he was happy to be on his own, away from his father's watchful stare. But when he saw all those families, waving and embracing and promising to write over the course of the term, he couldn't help but wonder what it was like to have a normal life and be raised by someone who truly cared.

Once he lugged his belongings onto the train and found an empty compartment somewhere in the middle, the empty feeling in his chest subsided a little. It wasn't that bad, having Nott Sr. for a father. He was a strict man, of course, but he did care. It just so happened that he was terrible at showing it.

"Theodore! Theodore, dear! Do come outside!"

The boy turned his head, looking to the window where a fair-haired woman waved madly at him, the way he imagined his mother would have, had she lived to see him off. Without another moment to spare, he zipped out of the compartment and off of the train, tightly embraced by Narcissa Malfoy.

"Oh, Theodore," she said, releasing him moments later. "It feels like just yesterday, both you and Draco were toddlers flying about the lawn on your toy brooms. And . . . and now you're off to Hogwarts for the first time." Teary-eyed, the woman held a hand over her heart.

Theodore blushed a little, looking down.

"Olivia would be proud of you. I know it," Narcissa continued, speaking of her best friend.

To Theodore's knowledge, his mother and Draco's mother had been close as young girls and spent every waking moment together in and out of Hogwarts. They planned their lives in accordance with one another. Narcissa was engaged to her boyfriend, Lucius Malfoy, in the same year that Olivia was engaged to her boyfriend, Rabastan Lestrange. Of course, when Rabastan was arrested early in the First Wizarding War, the engagement was broken and Olivia was forced to marry someone else.

It was a difficult situation for everyone involved, and it took time for Olivia to fall in love her husband. Nott Sr. was a man of few words, cold and distance in many ways, but he loved his wife from the moment they first met and did everything in his power to cure her, when she fell terribly ill. It was a fast disease, and it left her bedridden for months before taking over her completely. The day she died, she asked Narcissa to look after her son, to make sure he knew warmth and kindness.

From that moment on, Narcissa took it upon herself to be there for Theodore when he needed a mother. It worked out fine when he was younger, but the older he grew, the more he distanced himself from them . . . knowing in his heart that Nott Sr. didn't approve of Narcissa and her frivolous ways. His father's approval meant more to him than anything in the world, and so he did what he could to earn it.

If that meant distancing himself from the others, then so be it.

Narcissa dabbed the corners of her eyes with a square of white silk, breaking Theodore's concentration. "I wish she could be here to see you, how much you've grown."

There was an ache in his chest but he ignored it. He learned long ago not to dwell in sadness. "Thank you for your kind words, but I . . . I should really leave before the train departs."

"Of course, of course," Narcissa nodded, sniffing the remaining tears away before giving him one last hug. "I expect you and your father over for Christmas, do you understand?"

"Yes, Mrs. Malfoy."

"Good. Now go on and join Draco. I believe he is with those boys, Vincent and Gregory, in the back, most likely."

Theodore nodded politely and left the woman, quickly realizing only she had been there to see Draco off. It seemed Nott Sr. wasn't alone in his detached nature.

He hopped onto the train, the moment the engine roared to life, and held on it started to move. Once he regained some form of balance, he made his way to the compartment wherein he had left his belongings.

"What the — "

A jolt of surprised went through him as he found someone in his compartment — a girl. Short, in first year, it seemed, with the wildest, curliest hair he'd ever seen, and her nose buried in one of his books.

Theodore blinked the shock away and straightened his posture. "Excuse me, but this is my compartment, and that is my book."

There was a moment of silence between them, before the little witch glanced up, closing Theodore's copy of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. To his embarrassment, she looked him up and down, the shrewdness in her eyes reminding him of his father, for a quick second.

"I highly doubt this train compartment belongs to you," she stated using a tone that he could only describe as snippy. "As for your book — here. I've got my own copy anyway."

He quickly took it, a tinge of colour to his cheeks as he noticed that most of his belongings had spilled out of his trunk upon departure. Whilst collecting his strewn articles of clothing, parchment and books, his eyes darted to the witch, curiously. She seemed to be practicing a levitation charm, and though it pained him to admit, she was decent at it. More than decent, if he was honest.

She must be pureblood, he rationalized, knowing most pureblood children, including himself, were taught a dozen or so standard spells before enrollment.

Theodore sat down with a sigh, having stowed away the last of hs belongings, and looked across, to the girl. "I didn't catch your name," he said knowing introductions were necessary when entering an institution like Hogwarts. Surely he would need a partner on certain assignments. It only made sense to befriend the best and brightest of the bunch, and this witch certainly fit the bill. Not only did he find her reading for fun, he was also witness to her, as she casted a perfect levitation spell. Yes, she would certainly do.

"Hermione Granger," she introduced, pocketing her wand. "And you're Theodore Nott."

Slightly, taken aback, he lifted an eyebrow at the witch.

"It was written in your book," she explained, without a flinch. "Property of Theodore Nott Jr."

His eyes narrowed a moment. "Tell me, Harmony Granger. Do you normally rifle through things that don't belong to you?"

"It's Hermione Granger, and no, I don't, but most people I know are more than happy to share." When he opened his mouth but failed to respond, she continued. "I assume that is a foreign concept to you?"

"What?"

"Sharing."

"I assume asking nicely is a foreign concept to you."

"My apologies," she snapped back, cold in both tone and demeanour.

Theodore scrunched his mouth, instantly rethinking his plans to partner with this girl. If five minutes in a train compartment proved so intensely difficult, there was no chance in hell they would work well together on a class assignment. Not without popping a couple veins, anyway.

"Beg your pardon, but have either of you seen Trevor?" asked someone else.

Both of them fixed their attention on the door and found a chubby boy with two enormous front teeth and a lost look about him, like a puppy with no owner.

"Trevor?" Hermione repeated. "Trevor who?"

"Trevor my toad," the boy explained, an embarrassed hue to his cheeks. "I . . . I think I lost him. My gran is going to kill me. I only got him a week ago."

Theodore suppressed the urge to laugh and instead checked the compartment for this missing toad. "I'm afraid Trevor's not in here," he said.

The boy sighed deeply, scratching the back of his head. "I'll check somewhere else, then."

"I'll help you," Hermione volunteered, meeting him at the door. "What did you say your name was?"

"I didn't. It's Neville."

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Neville. My name is Hermione Granger . . ." Her eyes darted to Theodore for a split second. "And this here is Theodore Nott."

"I know," Neville quickly said, looking nervously as the other boy. "Everyone knows the Nott's."

Hermione blanked a moment. "Oh, well, I didn't before today. That's probably because I'm Muggle-born."

"Muggle-born?" Theodore repeated, before he could stop.

The girl looked to him. "Yes, that is correct. My parents are muggles."

Neville looked between them, swallowing a bit. "I'll . . . I'll keep looking for Trevor . . ." With that, he left the compartment in a series of clumsy steps, bumping into a few people on his way down the aisle.

"I've read about the prejudices in wizarding society," Hermione said, once the noise died down. "People of muggle heritage aren't welcome in every circle."

Theodore wasn't sure what to say, so he settled with a nod.

"I assumed I wouldn't encounter any blood purists so soon."

"What makes you think I'm a blood purist?" he asked, in no particular way.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. "Aren't you?"

Before he could answer, the sound of three familiar voices captured his attention. Without further word, he looked to the girl and nodded his head to the door. "I'm not, but those boys down the aisle are."

The shrewdness in her eyes faltered for only a moment before she left the train compartment in a hurry, in the opposite direction of those voices. Theodore exhaled, releasing the tension in his chest as his friends, Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle entered.

"We've been looking for you," Draco said, standing front and centre, arms folded with Crabbe and Goyle on either side of him, like bodyguards. "Rumour has it, Harry Potter is on this train."

Theodore swallowed, keeping in mind what his father told him. "I'm aware."

"Have you seen him?"

"No," he answered, reaching for his copy of Fantastic Beasts and opening it. "And I don't care."

A/N: Thoughts? Reminder - if you're interested in this story and wish to see it continue, the best and most helpful thing you can do is let me know. The power of a review is immensely helpful. Thanks for taking the time to read the first chapter!

Cheers

xo.