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Assistant: Title: WHEN SPRING BLOOMS
        Author: jiexhua jiexhua 
        Chapter: 1/1 
        Summary: Theo wants to cleanse Nott Manor after the war.-OR-Three idiots try to cursebreak Nott Manor over the winter holidays with < zero qualifications. Unfortunately, the Nott spirits are stubborn on top of being nefariously hostile...
        Contents: Summary:
            
              Theo wants to cleanse Nott Manor after the war.-OR-Three idiots try to cursebreak Nott Manor over the winter holidays with < zero qualifications. Unfortunately, the Nott spirits are stubborn on top of being nefariously hostile...
            
        

        
  Notes:

    



        In response to a prompt by
            Anonymous in the Hozier_Flash_Fest
          collection.
        
    

    
      “All the fear and the fire of the end of the world, happens each time a boy falls in love with a girl.” - Wasteland, Baby!
    

    (See the end of the work for more notes and other works inspired by this one.)



  





    
        
          Theodore Nott was born on the cusp of summer with eyes as green as the fields in spring. He loved the fields where Mother would let him tumble in the dirt and befriend creatures smaller than him. She clapped at his first steps as the dewy blades skimmed over his ankle’s sharp bone, and when winter melted, her laugh found a way to lure him out of bed for a taste of the season’s first unbitten air. The fields would rustle hello with a breezy kiss as they raced down to the creek. Shoes would be shucked, socks were torn free, and hand-in-hand, they would tread to the rocks where Theo got to sit and watch her hands ripple in their crystal reflection. Fingers more gentle than any comb would loosen his dark curls as sun glittered gold through the willow’s long veins. The world went quiet to hear her song, but especially Theo, because Mother only ever sang when they were in the fields. A twig snapped behind, and they both jumped as she stopped at a particularly tied knot. Her soft hand brushed down to his shoulder, before her head turned to the looking glass as green met silver. Theo blinked. “What are you doing here?”Silver eyes narrowed as that pointy chin jutted forward. “Everyone’s gone inside,” Malfoy said, assessing Theo’s bare feet. “Father told me to come find you.”Theo clicked his tongue. “Always doing what you’re told,” he said, letting his feet lap through the pool for one last turn. Normally, he didn’t bother with Malfoy due to the constant chatter about nothing, so Theo didn’t know why he asked, “What will you do when we’re sent off to school?”Malfoy stood straighter. “Why does that matter?” he asked, but his ears were particularly red against his platinum-blonde head. “Father says Hogwarts is only in Scotland, and Mother’s already bought me an owl.”Theo stood. “Can’t go a day without mummy?”Malfoy had to look up because Theo was taller, but Theo was like his father and taller than everyone, so it wasn’t anything impressive. In fact, it was more often annoying because kids their age were stupid and found ways to exacerbate Theo’s height into something they didn’t want to reach. Normally, Theo was too bored to offer any mind, but right now, he grinned and enjoyed his height. “There, there, little prince,” he said. Then he reached forward and Malfoy pretended not to flinch, as he untucked the side of his collar—the left—that always got caught in his jumper. Up close, he whispered into his ear, “We still have summer.” Malfoy slapped him away. “I’m warning you, Nott,” he said, that pointy finger raised. “Try anything—”Theo grinned. “My father will lock me up faster than yours,” he said, before he pushed—hard—and watched Mother splash away without him.#The barren fields were a promising start when they landed on the crackling snow, as winter nipped into their skin like a b@tch in its resentful begone. Coats were buttoned, scarves tucked tight, with Theo leading the way up the worn path. Climbing the stone steps, he pocketed the Portkey to free up the hand not holding his wand. Its glove made use by icing off the door’s frosted glass, where in the fog, green looked to silver before meeting brown.“Welcome,” Theo smirked as he opened the gates to home sweet home.Sin bled through the walls, with every corner marked by the sinners themselves. Their bodies were long gone, but unlike others, the Nott’s saved their bones. They were vessels to preserve their long line of magic, ensuring they never moved on.Notts, however, didn’t know how to be. Even without a body, their spirits found ways to bother. They were callous and cruel, and derived joy from fear. When alive, they collected their means through whatever money could buy. The young were built to endure every purchase, while adults bowed to their dead masters, of whom consulted darker realms to decide if they were satisfied. They were not.Because every Nott was cursed to want more, and Theo, no matter how disappointing, was a Nott through and through as he cast a  Protego. To his left, Draco muttered a  Silencio, as their Golden Girl rounded them out with a  Muffiato. Precautions—they knew better than to talk—but they weren’t stupid enough to risk temptation as they slipped into the freezing corridor. Draco extinguished any candles they passed, while their Golden Girl threw back batches of the Peruvian Instant Powder. They couldn’t see sh@t@, but darkness was better than the illusions. Spirits could twist the truth, but the manor’s layout was a law that Theo could navigate with his eyes closed. Nott’s were regrettably persistent, though, and Theo could feel their unrest poking at the shield. It wasn’t from weak casting, or that the dead could overcome the metaphysical. From experience, Theo had learned illusions came down to a sense that surpassed human limits. Whether in sight, sound, taste, touch, or smell, spirits had a way to gauge vulnerabilities, and with three of them, their odds of success were much higher. By the time they reached the East Wing, everyone was out of breath from running. A shield for all three was no longer enough, with the both of them foregoing their offence to form individual defences. Their hands clasped his winter cloak, as Theo guided them around the next corner and tried to find comfort in almost there. But labour weakened him, as whispers snuck through where his shield was fading.‘Theodore.’Theo was tired.‘Theo.’He should stop.‘My darling.’“Don’t!” She jumped for Theo’s wand, except his shield had already dropped. He stopped with fallen arms as a swarm snaked around him, their wisps hissing through their inspection of the sole Nott heir. Theo didn’t care, and waded through as if he could see. Surely, he didn't need to, for what were eyes to a soul? He would know, Theo knew he would know, because he knew this knowing transcended the mortal realm, and if he could—“No!” he shouted, at the pull around his waist. It dragged him back, as Theo fought for purchase. But he was running on air as the tug carried him away. The spirits continued to bite as he fell back, sucking on his power, even if it was only a taste. Theo didn’t care, he would let them, he wanted it, for all of them to come and take as much as they craved because—a door slammed shut as Theo collapsed to the floor—he didn’t know if Mother was okay. #Theodore Nott couldn’t stand the manor. Not that Hogwarts was much better, because he also couldn’t stand people. However, if he had a choice between spending holiday with his dead ancestors or literally anyone alive, he would side with the living—always. By a marginal amount, obviously, as Pansy shrieked with too much glee at something she wouldn’t have found funny if it hadn’t come from Malfoy’s mouth. Not even his goons pretended to smirk on his behalf to whatever he said, so Theo didn’t bother with clarification as he sighed deeper into his corner. But he was still uncomfortable, no matter which way he settled. The train kept rattling, bumping his head against the window, and he could swear with every passing year, these compartments were getting smaller. His knee knocked into Blaise at his next shift, to which Blaise kicked back with an, “Oi! Sleep or sit up. You’re spreading your madness to me, and I already have enough O.W.L.s for that.” “Lower your voice if you’re going to speak of the forbidden,” Pansy shuddered next to him, instilled with enough terror to turn away from Malfoy.“I’m not the one shaking the train,” Blaise protested, with another kick toward Theo. “You’re like this every time,” he despaired, adding in his hands for emphasis. “If you get motion sickness, then request a draught from Snape—”“Shut up or get out,” Malfoy snapped to the ceiling. “Your incessant nagging is what’s shaking the train, if I had to put any money on it.”Next to Theo, the goons snickered as Blaise flicked off Malfoy. Pansy chastised him with a shove, to which Blaise returned. But no problem for Pansy, who capitalised on the force to fall onto Malfoy whose silver met green as the sun tainted him with the golden hour.Theodore Nott couldn’t stand the manor. However, if he had a choice between spending holiday with his dead ancestors or literally anyone alive, he would side with the living—if they weren’t Malfoy. #The library was chosen for obvious reasons. Knowledge itself was the most valuable resource, but they had all agreed more space for three was for the best. The base floor also provided a hearth, which was actually a locked Floo they would use for cooking (however that worked). Thus, the only real hurdle, in Theo’s opinion, was the shared bathroom. It wasn’t so much of an issue between him and Draco, considering their return to Eighth Year had reassigned them to the same dorm. No, the concern…Theo dared a glance toward the fireplace, where the two had been sorting—he supposed. Mainly, it was unpacking all their supplies from Hermione’s wonderfully magic (and illegal) bag. But it seemed they couldn’t agree on the optimal placement for everything, nor would they talk about it. One would move materials without telling the other, before the other transferred whatever items back (also without informing the other). Her nostrils would flare, as his ears flushed that petulant red, all while Theo couldn’t help, because bundling him in a corner with tea was the only matter where they didn’t… disagree. (Hermione had argued for chocolate, while Draco insisted Theo preferred biscuits, but Theo managed to have it his way after telling them both he would vomit out either from the nausea). As such, Theo took to arranging the bathroom schedule as he sipped the tea. It could start and end with either, but ultimately, he would have to take the middle. Another drink, as she huffed past him on her way back to her bag. A swirl around his mouth, as he followed her hands retying her dark curls before they could unload the many books she brought despite their library quarters. Theo swallowed as she stacked. The pile grew, and as if he anticipated the misplacement, he was there to catch the teetering top—before it could topple. He straightened the books while Theo finished the tea, and she gritted out a ‘thank you.’ Not that it deterred him from stooping down to spit back ‘you’re welcome,’ as Theo hid his gag behind refilling his cup.#Theodore Nott was his father’s son. A Nott through and through, his magic was tied to every inch of the manor. There was no way to forgo his own blood, let alone unbind himself from generations of sin. Save for the Dark Mark, his adult age assumed him complicit in all of father’s crimes. Indicted by the world, glorified by their blood, and revolting to his conscience, Theo disappointed everyone, especially himself. Because even if a sympathetic party argued he wasn’t actually complicit, no one could dispute that Theodore Nott was at least complacent.Unfortunately, Hermione Granger didn’t care.Her obligation toward the less fortunate inevitably extended to children under supposed duress during the war. Regrettably, everyone believed the Golden Girl when she insisted they deserved the chance to be better. Theo couldn’t unhear the word echoing with his steps as the Aurors led him out of the courtroom. It locked to his mind when they uncuffed his wrists and let him walk. The letters spelled out before his eyes, while they escorted him to the Atrium and waved him into a random Floo to get out of their hairs. Only right as he called for the manor, another group of Aurors hurried past with hands and wands bound to their handle as silver met green—before Theodore Nott was sucked through of lifetime of believing Draco Malfoy had it better. #The current time was four p.m., which meant the sun had set eight minutes ago. Theo despised working when it felt like he should be asleep, but the unspoken rule was to get as much done when they weren’t eating, resting, sh@tt@ng, or arguing, so onwards they would trudge for at least another hour—even if Theo was suffocating under stagnancy.“Perhaps I can help?” Hermione asked, sitting beside. “It’s alright,” Theo said, thinking her assumption was hypocritical because if she were doing any better, she wouldn’t have to fixate on him, and he shook his head. “You’ve got enough to do.”“That’s not the point of dividing work,” she said, leaning closer to the jar before him. “The point is diversifying our reach and exchanging perspectives when necessary. What have you tried? Personally, I’m not sure our typical bypasses would apply here.”Theo already knew that. “Obviously; it’s closed, not locked,” he said, as his wand traced a light over its carved symbols for the umpteenth time.He regretted his lack of interest in art when he couldn’t place the era. The consequences of not caring were further cemented after wasting the afternoon trying to determine the pictographic’s origin by country through language. But he was @rs@ at his own tongue and hardly had the patience to pick up another alphabet. It certainly didn’t help that his ancestors were depraved and had no qualms about where they got their dark artefacts, meaning everywhere—even hell—was on the table.She clicked her tongue. “Possibly,” she said, in that irksome way, because to present an idea was to communicate. Her nasty habit for withholding made Theo glare, as her lip quirked. “From a technical standpoint, I agree that there is no lock. However, we’re not exactly constrained to the traditional idea of a lock, are we?”But Theo was tired and warned with a bite, “It’s too late to solve a riddle from scratch. Unless your insights guarantee progress, then perhaps this is our stopping point.”She hummed in agreement, only her eyes were fixed on the jar, with her hand reaching to touch, as she mused, “It’s curious—”Theo tackled her to the ground before the jar exploded open. Her screams cracked his ears as blood spurted from her scar, with her body curling into itself, while he hurled in revulsion at his stomach. He despised the organ when he looked away, his self-preservation reeking with metal, as he came face-to-face with utter disdain. Is he really ours?  they wondered, to Theo’s raised wand. Their doubt rose like a wave as they mused to each other that Nott’s were too strong to be passive. Judgment gathered while they argued that he shouldn’t cower away from them—their magic—and Theo failed to produce a shield. Their growing crest rolled forward to remind him that Nott’s were bound—forever—to help each other because no one could be more trusted than blood. Precisely, they chimed, to Theo’s closing eyes. The fields rustled hello with a breezy kiss as they raced down to the creek. Shoes were shucked, socks torn free, and hand-in-hand, they tread to the rocks where Theo sat and watched her hands ripple in their crystal reflection. Fingers more gentle than any comb loosened his dark curls as sun glittered gold through the willow’s long veins. The world went quiet to hear her song, but especially Theo, because Mother only ever sang when they were in the fields. A twig snapped behind, and they both jumped as she stopped at a particularly tied knot. Her soft hand brushed down to his shoulder, before her head turned to the looking glass as green met silver—#Draco Malfoy was born in summer with eyes as silver as the moon tonight. Theo used to look because he missed Mother, but then Draco would do or say something exactly like his father who loved him, and Theo would have to do more than look because his father hated him. Right now, Theo was looking because while Draco’s father loved him, Theo’s arm was the one left unmarked. Before them, the fire was dying as their glasses trickled down to tomorrow. Only Theo wasn't quite ready and reached for the bottle to refill time. Draco waved him off. “I’m done, but thanks,” he said, setting his glass aside.“You shouldn’t start probation sober,” Theo quipped, as he refilled anyway.“S’no difference, not like house arrest bans drinking.”Theo smirked, lifting his glass. “Is that how you’re passing time?” Draco shrugged, leaning forward. “What about you?”Theo took a swig. “They gave me counselling, so it’s different from you. Can walk about and all that….”“Still. You’ll at least revise before they ship us back to school, no?”Theo tsked. “Sounds like work.”Draco shook his head. “You’ll bore yourself.”“I enjoy doing nothing.”“Fix the manor.”“Are you telling me to die?”“No, I mean, your father’s put away, so no one’s stopping you.”“F@ck you.”Draco grinned. “Alright,” he said, taking his glass. He drank as the last flame set over him like the golden hour—and swallowed. The glass glimmered down its descent to the horizon, but before it could disappear, Theo caught him by the wrist and skimmed over his hand, his finger, his tip, to the ice-cool curve as silver met green.Draco pulled back. “That”—his throat cleared—“I was joking. I’m not—”Theo stared at his hanging hand.“I’m here,” he said. Then he reached forward and Malfoy pretended not to flinch, as he untucked the side of his collar—the left—that always got caught in his jumper. Up close, he whispered into his ear, “If you ever get lonely.”'
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