「 HOME 」

THE VERY FAMILIAR DOOR LOOMED threateningly before him. Or rather, Theo imagined it was threatening. It was a simple enough door - thick wood carved with floral patterns - that hummed with magic every time he pressed his palm on its surface. The magic was meant to keep muggles out though Theo couldn't see why anyone with a shred of sense would come to a place like this, for the house was nestled in the middle of the woods. Trees grew close around the house and shrubs crawled up its walls and poked through rusted windows.

Theo had stopped at the large wrought iron gate that stood a hundred metres away from the house. A crooked path led from the gate to the porch, but Theo couldn't get his feet to move. He stared at the house, at its brick walls and dark windows, at the almost broken down roofs. One of the windows on the top floor was lit up - his father's room. He imagined Tristan Nott on his bed, perhaps devising new plots to get under the Dark Lord's good graces, not dreaming for a second that his son was right outside the house, gathering the courage to get in.

The train ride to King's Cross Station was rather uneventful. Theo had spent most of the time curled into a ball by the window, listening to Blaise as he seized every chance he got to convince Theo to go with him to his place. Theo had left the compartment only twice - once to go and say hi to Seamus, and once to ask Draco to check on Luna for him. Theo had asked him to write to him, but Draco was reluctant to do so considering that the Dark Lord had made his home into his headquarters, but eventually, he had agreed to sneak into his basement to check on Luna and give updates to Theo once they returned to Hogwarts after the break.

At the station, Theo had said goodbye to Blaise and Corben and apparated right outside the woods inside which was concealed his house. It was quite a long way from the edge of the woods to the centre, but there was a well-paved path that Theo loved walking on. It was lined with bushes on either side and Theo could often spot a squirrel or two. Besides, the walk would clear his head and give him enough time to back away and leave should he change his mind at the last moment.

Apparently, the walk didn't do much to clear his head, for he was at the gate and still had no intention to leave.

Hoisting his backpack securely over his shoulders, Theo took a few deep breaths. He reached up to touch the sign nailed to the bars of the gate. Nott Residence, it said. Pointless, Theo thought. They never had visitors. The sign was covered in a thick layer of dust, and a trail of fingerprints was left behind when he moved his hand.

"You can do this, Theo," he whispered quietly to himself. Then he pushed open the gate and stepped into the path.

After the long walk through the woods, this journey seemed to end far too quickly and before he knew it, Theo was on the porch, facing the door. It didn't seem so threatening up close now that Theo could clearly see the etchings on its surface. Before he could change his mind, he reached up and forced the door open. A small shiver passed through him as the magic coursed through his veins.

This house - his home - was so familiar to him and yet he felt like an outsider as he stepped into the foyer. There seemed to be no sign of life in the house. The curtains were drawn tight across the high windows and even the portraits on the walls were asleep. He doubted his father ever used any of the rooms other than his own bedroom. The library on the second floor used to be a favourite haunting of Tristan Nott but he had stopped going there after the return of the Dark Lord.

Theo dropped his bag by the door and followed the carpeted hallway. The stairway was to his right but he ignored it. There was someone he needed to greet first.

"Hi, Fowley," he said once he reached the kitchen.

The house-elf who had been busy washing a piece of china jumped violently. Remarkably, the cup remained secure in her small, wrinkled hands as she ran to Theo and burst into tears.

Embarrassed, Theo kneeled before her and gently took the cup from her hands. Large drops of tears oozed out of her glassy eyes and her ears flapped around her face. She wore what Theo assumed was a towel, though it was so dirty and tattered that it could be anything. The piece of clothing was draped around her like a chiton, secured with a tight knot over her left shoulder.

"Okay, you can stop crying now, Fowley," he said, a little awkwardly.

"Ma-Master Theodore," she said, sniffing after each syllable. "You shouldn't have come. Master Nott is - he is very angry."

Theo braved a smile. "Don't worry about him. Is he in his room?"

Fowley wiped her face and got her tears under control. "Master Nott is not expecting you. Master Nott will be very very angry."

Theo sighed. "Well, I cannot go back now."

"Fowley hears things, Master Theodore," she continued like he hadn't spoken. Her little hands trembled before her. "Fowley knows that Master Nott wanted his son to be punished. Master Nott was furious because the - the Dark Lord -" she said the two words in a terrified whisper, "- wanted to recruit Master Theodore but the Carrows says he is not worthy."

Theo did not say anything. He clutched the cup so hard that his hands began to shake. He swallowed a lump in his throat and said, attempting to joke, "You seem to know all the inside information, Fowley."

"Fowley is invisible to everyone. People talks in front of her because people does not see her."

Theo stood and returned the cup to the kitchen counter. "Well, it's good to see you, Fowley." He pulled a chair and sat, folding his arms on the tabletop. His father could wait. He didn't have to go see him now.

Fowley climbed up a stool so she could reach the counter and began to clean the dishes. "Fowley missed you, Master Theodore," she said, voice shaky. "Fowley cooked your favourite dish for Christmas dinner, but when Master Theodore didn't come home, Fowley cried."

Theo looked at her, touched. Fowley had been his guardian ever since the death of his mother, meaning his entire life. She had been the one who had fed him and looked after him. She had put him to sleep and comforted him when his father hit him. Fowley was his first real friend.

He cleared his throat. "Master Nott didn't tell you that he had asked me not to come home?"

"Only after I asked him where you was, Sir."

She placed a mug of tea in front of him. He accepted and thanked her, smiling as the warm tea slipped down his throat and warmed him to the core.

Theo finished the drink slowly and silently, counting every second that brought him closer to meeting his father. As the dishes clattered tunelessly around him, he tried to decide how he would greet Tristan Nott. Should he knock on the door or just walk in? Would hello be an appropriate greeting given their history? It wouldn't matter how politely he approached his father - his father's attitude toward him would be the same.

As it turned out, Theo needn't have worried so much. As Fowley brought large dishes of soup and potatoes and lamb and laid them on the table, Theo heard the sound of his father's footsteps coming nearer. He gripped the mug between his fingers.

"Is dinner ready yet? I have a meeting to attend -"

Tristan Nott halted at the doorway. He looked older - much older - than Theo remembered. Having lived his entire life craving approval from his father, Theo had learned to read his expression, his body language, any shift in his demeanour quite accurately. Now, what he saw was shock and exasperation in his features though Theo could tell how hard he tried to look unperturbed.

"Hello, Father." Theo felt a surge of pride at the indifferent steadiness of his voice.

His father gave what looked like a friendly smile. It didn't reach his eyes, which were cold, narrowed into cautious hardness. Not taking his eyes off Theo for one second, he pulled out a chair and sat. Fowley, trembling, placed a clean plate in front of him.

The next ten minutes or so was a game. A game of control and power. Theo would do his best to remain composed under the sharp scrutinising eyes of his father while his father would do his best to make him feel as uncomfortable as he could until Theo would give in and leave the table. Theo loathed being in the same room as his father and Tristan Nott, knowing it very well, used it to his advantage.

But Theo decided that no matter what, he wouldn't be the first to leave this table.

When Theo picked up his fork to start eating, his father stood, pushing his chair back with a wooden creak. Theo pretended that nothing unusual had happened and began to eat.

"Stand," his father ordered. He stood so close to Theo that goosebumps erupted over his skin. But Theo pretended not to hear and put a large spoonful of potato into his mouth. "Stand up, Theodore."

Theo took his sweet time chewing the potato. He swallowed it and set the fork aside, then did as his father wanted. He was momentarily taken aback when he saw that he stood taller than Tristan Nott, and judging by the sudden wrinkling at the corner of his eyes, his father was just as surprised.

Theo held his gaze, refusing to look away. Then, abruptly, a hand shot out and gripped his chin, forcing his face up. Stunned, Theo stumbled back. It took him a few minutes to realise that his father was examining the front of his neck, which was scarred by the rope Alecto had tied around it.

He let go of his chin and grabbed his shirt, yanking it upward. Theo stood, frozen. His father didn't seem to have any trouble finding where the scars were - the Carrows must have done a good job describing exactly what they had done to his son. A faint look of satisfaction passed over his father's face as he took in the large scar that ran from his waist to the base of his stomach.

Tristan Nott reached up and touched the scar. He ran his finger gently along the ragged skin, caressing it lovingly like one would caress a lover. Theo unfroze and shoved his arm aside, pulled his shirt down, and sat back on his chair. He picked up his fork again and dug in, refusing to show any sign of weakness.

His father gave a low, cruel laugh.

Ten more minutes passed in silence. Fowley scuttled around them, filling and refilling their goblets, taking away the empty dishes and bringing more onto the table.

"How's school?" asked Theo's father.

"Don't act like you don't get daily updates from the Carrows about my life," Theo snapped.

Tristan Nott laughed like he had said something amusing. "What about that girl - Greengrass. Daphne, I think her name is. How is she?"

Theo couldn't keep the frown from forming on his face. It was quite an unexpected question. He had never spoken about Daphne to his father - not that they spoke much anyway - and the Greengrass family wasn't on friendly terms with the Notts. "What?"

"Surely, you know her," his father answered. "She's in your year, isn't she? I was wondering what she would be like as your bride."

The idea was so ridiculous that it took a few moments for Theo to realise what on earth he was talking about. Then he laughed. "My bride?" he exclaimed. "You want me to get married to Daphne?"

His father shrugged and continued casually, as though he was speaking of something as mundane as the weather. "Well, I would have preferred the younger one. Astoria. It's always a good idea to go for the younger girls - they are much more impressionable. Unfortunately, it has recently come to my attention that the Malfoy boy has already got to her. So. Daphne. Is she pretty?"

Theo's lips curled up into a sneer. "You're disgusting."

Tristan Nott smiled in satisfaction. Theo bit his lips, realising what had just happened. His father's primary intention was to get under his skin, to push and probe until Theo would lose his temper and he would have an excuse to punish him. That, however, was not to say that he was bluffing about marrying him off to Daphne. If he could kill two birds with one stone, why go for one?

"Tell me about this boy," Tristan Nott continued, his face impassive. "Seamus Finnigan. You two were reported to be quite close."

"We're friends," Theo remarked.

"Of course. I hope you remember what had happened to your previous friend. That Ravenclaw girl. What was her name? Looney Lovegood?"

"Her name is Luna." Theo couldn't keep his voice from rising. His finger tightened around his fork and soon, his knuckles began to hurt. But he didn't let go. He would have to release his anger somewhere or he might end up shoving the plate of hot lamb into his father's face.

"Yes. Well. First Luna. Then Seamus. You seem to be picking all the wrong kind." His face hardened all of a sudden and he leaned in toward Theo, nostrils flaring. "You're seventeen, Theo. You've already destroyed all your chances to hold up our family name. The least you can do now is find a suitable girl and put some sons in her. Don't worry. I'll be there to make sure they don't turn out to be as pathetic as you have."

"I don't give a rat's arse about your family name."

Theo's father cocked his brow. "Our family name, Theodore. You're a Nott too."

Theo scoffed.

Tristan Nott didn't react in any way to what he would dub as insolence. He instructed Fowley to remove the plates from the table and to bring a bottle of firewhiskey from the cellar. Theo gulped down some water and stood, but his father laid a hand on his arm, almost fatherly, and said, "Sit. Have a drink with me. I realise we haven't had the chance to share a drink after you turned seventeen."

Theo narrowed his eyes, suspecting some ulterior motive, but complied. Fowley returned a few minutes later and placed a mug in front of each of them. Tristan Nott filled them up with bubbling firewhiskey.

Theo picked up his mug and gingerly pressed it to his lips. His father wasted no time to cut straight to the chase.

"Why don't you invite Daphne over the weekend?" he said. Theo rolled his eyes, not bothering to hide it from his father. "I will speak to her parents. They're kind people - I'm sure they wouldn't care about you being a disgrace to your family."

Theo sighed inwardly. He wasn't a stranger to his father's insistence of marrying him off - he had been receiving the same speech since he was fourteen. So he ignored him completely and hurried to finish his drink.

"You should also ask Astoria to come over. Who knows? She might choose you over Malfoy."

"I'm not interested in getting married," Theo said monotonously, perfectly aware that his father did not care a bit about what he was interested in. His throat burned as he accidentally swallowed a large gulp of the firewhiskey.

"What about Blaise Zabini then? Would you be interested in marrying him?"

Theo whirled around. His hand jerked and sloshed his warm drink into his lap. His heart beat furiously inside his chest as he was rendered speechless. Tristan Nott stared at him, eyes sparkling in amusement, lips pulled up into a smirk.

"Ah, I knew it."

Theo set his mug aside and brushed the front of his jeans to get rid of the spilt drink. "What do you mean?"

Tristan Nott reached out and took his hands. The gesture seemed so comforting and intimate that Theo didn't think to pull back. He gaped at his father, feeling his mouth turn dry.

"You're still young, Theo," said Tristan Nott. If any outsider happened to pass by, they would assume they were having a close father-son moment. But Theo knew enough not to trust his sweet words. "I understand that you may feel curious about ... certain ... things. It's perfectly normal, I assure you. But you aren't a child. You're mature enough to know that it's your blood that's the most important. This urge you may feel - it's your job to squash it. It will do nothing but ruin your life. I have always suspected something like this, but now that you have confirmed it, it's my job as your father to show you to the right path. I'll write to Mr and Mrs Greengrass tonight and invite Daphne over." He held Theo's jaw, rubbing gently. Despite himself, Theo leaned into his touch. "Trust me. It's for the best."

What harm will it do? Theo thought. Blaise wasn't going to reciprocate his feelings. Instead of wallowing in his unrequited love, wouldn't it be better for Theo to just do what his father wanted and agree to marry a woman? It didn't have to be Daphne. He had plenty of other choices.

Theo closed his eyes as his father pulled him into an embrace. His heart ached painfully inside his chest. How he had longed for a hug like this. Ever since he was a child, he had craved a gentle touch, an encouraging word from his father. Even when Tristan Nott had struck him and made him bleed, Theo had cried to sleep at night hoping for his father to come and comfort him.

And now there it was. Kind words, a loving embrace. Theo wished for this moment to freeze in time.

He opened his eyes. And saw Fowley. She stood silently, tears trailing down her face. He blinked a few times. No. He wasn't exactly unloved, was he? Fowley had given him what his father should have - a shoulder to cry on, a hand to hold, loving words when he was upset. She had cooked him meals when he stayed up doing his homework, she had held him at night when he cried from his father's words or actions. All his father had ever given him was pain - both emotional and physical - and falsely sweet words to lure Theo under his wings only to show his true face when Theo was enveloped in a blanket of false security.

Theo shoved his father away and pulled back. He felt short of breath all of a sudden. Folding his legs to his chest, Theo curled his arms around him to form a sort of shield against his father. All his life, he had let his father use his sweet words to manipulate Theo into doing what he wanted. His craving for validation was so strong, Theo had let himself forget all of the times Tristan Nott had hurt him, had shown him how much he hated having Theo as a son. He wasn't going to do that anymore. Only one loved him unconditionally in this house and it wasn't his father.

Tristan Nott acted as if nothing had happened. "Fowley, bring me a quill and parchment."

Fowley hesitated, but her inherent urge to follow her master's orders won over and she left to obey. Theo breathed loudly and heavily, not trusting himself to speak. It was only after Fowley had fetched a sheet of parchment and his father placed the tip of his quill to begin his letter that Theo gained the strength to move. He snatched the sheet away and crumpled it in his fist. Tristan Nott looked calmly at him, no sign of anger visible on his face.

"I'm not going to marry Daphne," Theo said through gritted teeth. "Or Astoria."

His father cocked his head to the side. "Okay. Anyone else you have in mind?"

Theo forced a smile into his face. "No. I don't even want to get married. But if I do, it will be to someone I love. And it will be a man."

Theo's father sighed, shaking his head pityingly. "Haven't you been listening to me?" he said slowly, like a parent explaining something obscure to their toddler. "These urges will do you no good. They will ruin your life. These feelings you think you have are delusions. They're temporary. You will end up with regrets if you choose to follow them." He rose to his feet, gathered up his quill and inkpot and handed them to Fowley, who had been standing next to him with her head bowed low. "We're done here. Think about what I said, Theo. I only want the best for you."

Theo stood as well. When his father had reached the door, he called out, feeling foolishly brave all of a sudden. "You loved my mother," he said. Tristan Nott froze, turned slowly toward him. "You have hated me my whole life because you thought I was responsible for her death. You may be a horrible person, but I have no doubt that you loved your wife. You know what it is to love someone, then how can you force me to marry someone I cannot love?"

Theo knew he was treading dangerous waters, but he was overcome with an abrupt recklessness. His father's face has turned hard, all the initial love and gentleness gone. When he spoke, his voice was laced with ice - sharp and cold. "We fell in love after we got married," he sneered. "We got married to give birth to an heir who would make us proud and uphold our family name. And instead, she died and I was left with you." He spat the last word venomously.

His words didn't even hurt Theo anymore. Theo laughed shrilly, stepping toward his father. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Fowley shrinking back against the wall, tears glistening in her eyes. She was shaking her head, urging Theo not to provoke his father. But Theo's insides boiled with anger and hate and he wanted to give back to his father what he had received from him. "You're still young, Father," he snarled. "If you really want someone to continue the bloodline, I suggest you find a woman for yourself and make another baby. Because you're not getting a grandchild from me."

Theo knew he had crossed a line the moment the words left his mouth. But he could no longer retract them. So he stood his ground and watched as Tristan Nott stomped toward him, face swollen with fury. Theo found no time to step back as his father's hand rose into the air and flew toward his face. He could barely blink before the back of his hand struck him. The hit was stronger than he had expected and his vision blurred as he stumbled sideways.

It was several seconds before his vision cleared. He had clutched his face with his hand, and when he removed it, his palm was stained with a think trickle of blood. The shock prevented him from feeling any pain.

He looked toward his father. Tristan Nott was staring at the back of his hand where his ring was spotted with blood. Of course. It was the sharp edge of the stone in the ring that had cut his cheek. He couldn't imagine his father's knuckles being so strong as to draw blood.

Theo stared hard at his father, breathing deeply. Tristan Nott seemed to regret not taking his ring off before striking - the stone was too precious to be contaminated with blood. He huffed and left the kitchen.

A few minutes later, Theo did too.

Back in his room, Theo did not even glance at his belongings that he had missed so much as he strode into the bathroom. Looking at his reflection, he was horrified at his own appearance. It wasn't just the blood; his face seemed sunken in, eyes hollow. The fresh cut from the stone was nestled just over his left cheekbone. He saw his chest rise and fall rapidly.

Theo closed his eyes and covered his face with his hands. And he screamed. He screamed until his throat hurt and his voice turned hoarse. He screamed until he could no longer do so.

With shaky hands, Theo extracted his wand from his pocket. He applied a spell on the cut, but his hand shook so much that the end result made him look worse. He splashed water into his face and wiped away the blood. When he looked into the mirror again, the scar was swollen and red, stitched crookedly.

Theo left the bathroom twenty minutes later and yelped in surprise. Standing in the middle of his room was Fowley, a steady stream of tears falling down her face. As soon as she saw him, she cried harder. "Master Theodore," she wailed. "Why would you be so foolish? Why did you anger him so?"

Theo was too tired to argue with her. He went to his bed - how he had missed it - and crawled under the sheets. His room had been empty for months, but his bed was fresh and clean. Fowley must have changed the sheets and dusted the room while he was busy screaming at his reflection. The thought made him instantly embarrassed.

Fowley came up to stand beside his bed. "Let Fowley put some ointment on the scar, Master Theodore."

"That's okay, Fowley. I've treated it."

Fowley stared at him for a minute. "Of course. Master Theodore does not need poor Fowley anymore. He has grown up and he can take care of himself."

Theo smiled. He didn't need to force it. "All thanks to you, Fowley."

She sniffed and turned away. She took his backpack and carried it to his bed. "Does Master Theodore want Fowley to unpack his bag for him?"

Theo shook his head. "Just keep it next to the table. Thanks for bringing it in, Fowley."

Fowley did as she was told, then stood looking quite lost.

"Do you need anything?" Theo asked, amused. She had been serving the Nott household for generations and she never got exhausted of doing all their menial chores for them. Theo wondered what he had done to deserve someone like Fowley looking over him like a mother.

"No," she answered miserably. "Master Theodore can do all his work by himself. Fowley is not needed anymore. When he leaves for Hogwarts again, that will be the end of poor Fowley's life."

Theo suppressed a smile as he wondered if all house-elves were as dramatic as her. "Why would it be the end of your life, Fowley? You can go find another job, can't you?"

She turned her big glassy eyes on him. "Fowley's life is tethered to the Nott family. Master Theodore will not return again, and when Master Nott dies, Fowley will live the rest of her life in this house. All alone. She will go crazy. Like all the other house-elves whose family line ends."

Theo propped himself up on his elbow. He had never given a thought to a house-elf's life and how it was tied so intricately to his or her master's family. He had heard of families that killed their house-elves when they grew too old to be able to work and strung their heads on walls or doors. He never had to think about what the Nott family did, for Fowley has been with them for at least seven generations and she still wasn't that old in house-elf standards.

The idea that Fowley would go crazy with loneliness because she wasn't allowed to leave the family suddenly felt terrifying.

She sniffed and continued speaking. "Master Theodore has just said in the kitchen that he won't have children. So the Nott family line will end soon. Fowley will grow old alone."

Theo regarded her for a minute. "Who told you I won't return, Fowley?"

"Fowley knows," she said. "Master Theodore hates this house. He only came back to say goodbye. Fowley won't see him again after he leaves."

"Of course you will," he said firmly. "I won't abandon you after everything you've done for me. I can find you a new place to live in. And I'll visit you."

But Fowley was already shaking her head before he could finish talking. "Fowley cannot leave this house. She can only leave if Master Theodore or Master Nott gives her clothes and frees her. But a free house-elf is a disgraced house-elf. Fowley would rather drown."

Theo sat up in his bed. He took Fowley's hands - so small and so fragile. "You don't have to worry about being lonely. I'll figure something out. I won't abandon you. I promise."

She stared at him for a long time, then burst into tears.

It was about half an hour before Theo was able to calm her down. Fowley insisted again that she unpack his bag and clean up his closet but when he refused, she was on the brink of tears again, claiming that poor Fowley was no longer needed and she should just die rather than face this humiliation.

"If you really want to do something for me," he said quickly before she could start weeping again, "bring me some water. I get thirsty at night."

She brightened and hurried out of the room, returning a few minutes later with a large pitcher of water, a goblet, and a jar. She kept them on the table by Theo's bed and smiled graciously at him.

"What's in the jar?" he asked.

"Cashews."

Theo was oddly touched. When he was twelve, he had grown addicted to eating cashews after he had tasted them at a party. He had begged and pleaded until his father had given in and bought him a large jar of cashews. He liked chewing on them when doing his homework. It had been quite recently that he realised that his stash of cashews wasn't magical and the fact that he never ran out was because Fowley made sure to nag Tristan Nott until he bought more.

He thanked her and wished her good night. She gave a little bow and traipsed out of his room. When Theo fell asleep in the familiar comfort of his bed, he felt that he was breathing freely for the first time in months.