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“expeliarmus!” harry shouts out, and a light, elegant but rather short wand starts to spin in the air a few times before it falls on the floor with a clanking sound, and it's followed by this heavy, heavy silence. harry's breathing is elaborated, and he's holding his wand so tightly all his knuckles are white, and his forearm is shivering, the stupefy spell burning in the tip of his tongue.
right in front of him a disarmed theodore nott is staring at him with widened eyes, like a deer caught in the lights. and harry doesn't bloody care about what he wants or what he's doing there, he's not going to ask questions to slytherins, in the middle of an upcoming war. fraternizing with the enemy is not what he's about to do, especially since he knows malfoy is up to nothing good.
but theodore nott seems scared, and warded, and he keeps eyeing harry's wand like he's sure he's going to be stupefied sooner than later, or something worse; and harry can see his eyes moving fast, like he's trying to think about what to do next and his options, before harry moves first.
harry doesn't know much about theodore nott, all he knows it's that his father is one of the earliest supporters of lord voldemort, and that makes him an automatic enemy in harry's eyes. hermione talked about him a few times, because they are together in her arithmancy elective, but nothing but being a quiet and fidgety, 'even if brilliant, surprisingly ', was said about him by her.
even though, harry doesn't give a single fuck. fidgety or quiet or brilliantly smart, nott is still a slytherin, and harry is fixed on this idea of: act first, ask later. there's no another option in front of members of the snake house. if nott had his wand still, he would have been probably been stupefied already, or worse, harry snarls in anger as he imagines himself twisting on the floor suffering the jolts of pain of a cruciatus curse.
so he tightens his wand in his hand and theodore nott pales, his breath hitching in his throat, and the thought that this is not the first time nott seems to be threatened by a wand pointing at him, makes harry curious, if only for a second.
“p-please wait.” nott pleads, and his voice is nothing like harry has imagined. it's soft, and controlled, and if it wasn't so strained by fear and panic it would had have a melodic quality to it, pleasant to the ear. “just listen to me.” his lips are chopped and dry, and his tongue flattens against his lower lip, which is slightly shivering.
a snort passes by harry's nose, as if nott's words have been hilarious to listen to, and he can see how the other takes a step back, his shoulders growing with tension. “why would i, nott.”
“i-i have information valuable to use...” he looks around, and he looks truly scared, more than before, as he takes the step forward he undid before, and now harry is genuinely interested, even if wary. “t-things you might want to know.” he's whispering, as the walls and the floors has eyes and ears, and for the first time, it crosses harry's mind that this might be dangerous for nott, reckless. stupid.
but it's not enough, because his mind jumps right after it about an ambush. nott and malfoy are friends, harry is bloody sure. and he's not about to trust any of them. not parkinson and her quirky remarks, or zabini and his superiority airs, and definitely not malfoy, up to something, sneaky and bloody annoying malfoy.
all of them could be waiting somewhere, sending nott first because he's the most harmless, the one harry won't react heavily against at first, and waiting for him to get distracted to attack him, bring him to voldemort, kill him.
so his wand tightens in his hand once again, and points at nott more directly. “why would i.” he repeats, his eyes pure fire as he stares at nott, and this deep, primal , instinct takes all over him. it's quite a terrible thought when he thinks about it, but at the same time, it's for the greater good. a swift movement of his wand would mean the disappearance of a potential death eater, someone that might threaten or try to kill his friends later on. someone no one is going to miss.
so harry doesn't know why he's being so patient, and nott seems to be noticing that too.
“i don't negotiate with death eaters.” he finally says, and it feels like he's spitting on nott's face, who seems, somehow, hurt by his words. “you have taken the mark have you, like malfoy's did. and all of your bloody friends.” it's all musings in harry's eyes, and ron and hermione are tired of telling him he's being paranoid, but harry is sure, as sure as the sun goes up every day that malfoy is now a baby death eater strolling around the corridors of hogwarts.
but nott's reaction is the last thing harry has expected to hear, or see. he starts laughing, his eyes curving upwards and a dimple so deep into his right cheek harry is completely fixated looking at, he's laughing but he sounds so bitter, so done with his circumstances, and so hurt too, harry can feel the feelings like warm waves hitting against his chest.
his laugh doesn't last more than a few seconds, and when he looks up, he looks much older than the teenager boy he, they , is supposed to be, like he has lived a lifetime during his youth, like he's holding more than he can handle on top of his shoulders, and he's slowly crushing under it.
“believe it or not, not all of us wants to take a part of voldermort's plan, or his stupid bloody war. some of us just want to live in peace.” nott continues, and harry just stares at him, not sure about what he's listening to. he has never, ever, expected that one day he would have the son of probably the first and oldest voldemort supporter denying blatantly his own father's desires like that, he's completely stunned, and he just keeps looking at him, unaware his wand is slowly coming down, until his arm is resting next to his body.
all the schemes in harry's head are coming undone, all of them, melting like snow. from all people, he always has imagined that nott would be a rabid supporter and follower of both his father and lord voldemort. the mere idea of a member of the slytherin house not following that path was just... completely out of his mind, not even a possibility.
nott takes his silence as disbelief, and with a deep sigh, he undoes his robes and his shirt cuff until he can show harry an expanse of pale skin, untouched, where the dark mark should have been. he simply stares as harry patiently inspections his arm, and then nott tugs hastily his clothes with warm cheeks, until his forearm is covered again. “will you listen to me now?”
and harry thinks this is still stupid, and dangerous, and that malfoy, and zabini, and parkinson, and crabbe, and goyle; they all could appear from the shadows at any second and everything would be over, but a side of him, the one fixated in the deepness of theodore nott's dimple and the paleness of his skin wants him to believe.
so he gives curtly nod, and his arms cross over his chest, his wand still in his hand, his eyes piercing through nott's ones.
“speak.”