In Hell Softly

In Hell Softly
Lanni Weasley

The first inkling to Mrs. Ella Nott that her life would be changed was the birth of her first child, a healthy boy. The second was that she found out that her husband, pureblood Branson Nott, was a Death Eater.

She'd found out when she saw him torture a Muggle in their basement.

Ella screamed and dashed up the stairs. Branson spun around and saw the end of her blue night robe whipping in the wind as she ran away. He looked back at the Muggle in front of him and then at his colleagues around him.

"Well," Lucius Malfoy drawled, "go deal with your wife, Nott."

"Oh, like you do," Avery Rookwood cackled.

Lucius arched one eyebrow. "I deal with my wife very well and properly, I'll have you know."

The others laughed like sycophantic idiots. It was a routine.

"Well, you do when others don't, I suppose," Dagger McNair laughed. The volume of their laughter was raised a few levels, even though Lucius had stopped.

"I'm sorry, but my wife isn't like the drunks you pick up at The Leaky Cauldron once every Friday," Lucius stated calmly. He pointed his wand at the Muggle, who began to quiver more as sweat beaded off his face. Lucius snapped his wand in an irritated fashion and sharply said, "Crucio!"

The Muggle fell to the ground and writhed in pain, shaking and rolling on the ground, even with his hands tied behind his back. The laughter was heard over the screams because of the gag over the Muggle's mouth.

Branson shook his head and traipsed up the stairs. His fellow colleagues got too much fun out of this; strength was wasted on the young. The stairs groaned along with his bones; he was getting older like the house. It was a good thing Ella had finally given birth to a good, healthy son.

Ella was the perfect wife - loving, kind, beautiful, obedient, and strong. But even she, a high status woman such as herself, had gone through the pains and struggles of life. She'd had three miscarriages in their marriage, which had been devastating for both him and her. After becoming engaged, Ella had told him of her dreams of becoming a mother with many children. He, himself, had shared the same dream with her; his first wife (for he was much older than Ella) had died while giving birth, and the child had died, too. But the house had gone empty for the past three years since he'd been married to Ella, much to their dismay. All hope had been seemingly lost.

And then, suddenly, when they'd given up hope, Ella had become pregnant again. Worry filled both of them up, especially at the time. It was 1979; and the War was at its climax. Dark times were ahead; there were talks of murders and Death Eaters, of smoke and mirrors, of betrayal and politics, and of Light and Dark. Just six months into the pregnancy, Ella had woken up to the sight of the Dark Mark above their neighbours' house. She'd started having awful contractions, cramps, and low-back pain; she'd then started screaming bloody murder. Branson had been scared out of his wits; she'd been crying. They both had thought that she was going into premature labour. However, the symptoms had gone away by midnight, and they'd both fallen asleep, exhausted from fear.

Eight months ago, Ella had given birth to their first child, Theodore Branson Nott. Theodore had been Ella's father's name; he'd died just days before after getting mugged outside of The Leaky Cauldron - on the Muggle side. Branson couldn't be more proud of Ella after she'd had Theodore; he couldn't be any prouder as he held his first son in his arms. The little pink baby was his son - and he'd be a fine son at that.

It was pretty clear though, that eight month-old Theodore had already taken after his mother. He was quiet, but always got what he wanted. He could already get all he wanted by just giving you a certain look; and Branson was weak under the pout his son would give him. If any of his colleagues knew about this, they'd laugh at him. Lucius wasn't like that with his son, Draco, but then again, Draco cried constantly when he didn't get what he wanted; Theodore just gave you The Pout.

Branson passed through the parlour room. He peeked into the crib only to see that it was void of any life; Ella had taken Theodore out of it. He knew where she was. Calmly, he walked up the stairs and down the dark hall. He stopped at the door of their bedroom. He tried to the door; it was locked. Why did he even try?

"Ella, open up," he said quietly, tapping on the door.

There was a loud sob. "Go away!" Ella was crying.

Branson gave a sigh. "Ella, please, open up the door."

"No! Leave us alone!"

"Ella."

"Get them - all of them - out of this house right this instant!" She was talking about his colleagues in the basement. Oh, and the Muggle. You shouldn't worry about spilt milk, but you should always worry about dried blood.

"Ella."

The door was ripped open. Branson came face-to-face with his furious wife. Her dark hair was surrounding her face wildly, like a lion's mane; her eyes were glowing with a fire in them; and her face was pink with rage. "What!"

"Thank you," Branson said wearily, brushing passed her into the room. The door closed shut. He saw little Theodore sitting in the middle of their made bed, playing gleefully with a stuffed dragon. Branson turned around to face Ella, who now had her hips on her hands. "What are you doing?"

"I'm leaving," Ella huffed. "I'm getting out of here."

"And where exactly are you going?" Branson asked calmly. He glanced at his son, then back at his wife, and added, "With my son."

Ella raised her head proudly. "He's my son, too. I can take him wherever I want," she stated, and then after giving him a contemptuous glare, added, "especially away from this madhouse that you've now turned into a torture cell."

"Ella, you don't understand-"

"Oh, no, I do understand - perfectly, crystal clear," Ella interrupted, stomping over to him with a wild look in her eyes. "How many more?"

"What?"

"Don't 'what' me! How many more have you tortured in our basement - with our son just one level above!" Ella demanded shrilly, tears burning her eyes. Branson sighed and looked away. Her bottom lip began to tremble. "I have been...so scared that my son won't live to adulthood because of this war. I have tried my hardest to keep him safe and clean. This world is filled with horrors, terrors, and darkness - the things that I'm trying to keep Theodore away from. And here you are, bringing all of those things into our house. Into our house!"

"Ella, this was the only time, I promise."

"How can I trust you?" Ella said quietly, tears slipping down her delicate cheeks. "I thought I knew who you were. I love you so much. I love this whole family with my entire heart. But you have been keeping this huge secret from me all this time. You're a-you're a..." She had to look away to say it. "You're a Death Eater."

Branson put a hand on his cheeks wife. "Ella-"

Ella suddenly turned on him and slapped him, hard. "Don't touch me! Don't touch me ever again!" She was breathing hard and backing away from him until she hit the door.

"Ella, I'm sorry; I really am," Branson admitted softly, looking her directly in the eyes. "I shouldn't have kept it from you - that was my fault - I should've told you." Ella was nodding hear head with tears constantly falling down her face. "I was just...afraid, too, of what you would say if you knew."

"I thought-" Ella cut herself off and took a deep breath. She started again, "I thought you were just-just a sympathizer of You-Know-Who, not a follower."

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Slowly, Branson opened his arms up, and Ella fell against him as she continued to cry against him. He continued to murmur apologies in her ear and stroke her hair with his arms wrapped around her.

Ella had been feeding young Theodore by bottle when Branson came home late one night, face pale and sweat rolling down his face. He looked terribly sick and in pain. She sat Theodore back onto the couch and scampered over to him.

"Branson, what's wrong?" she asked worriedly.

"He's gone," Branson croaked, sounding completely bemused.

Ella didn't know what he was talking about. "Who's gone, Branson? I don't understand..."

"The Dark Lord's gone," Branson replied.

Ella let go of her husband and began to back away from him, eyes wide filled with shock. She fell onto the couch next to Theodore. "What?"

"The Dark Lord's gone," Branson repeated, looking puzzled. He sat back down into a chair. "No one knows what's happened." Ella picked up Theodore and sat him in her lap. "He went after the Potters-"

"Lily?" Ella interrupted immediately. Her breath was hitched in her throat when Branson looked up at her. She looked away. "We're still friends, you know." She paused took take a breath and then looked up at him. "I didn't tell her anything; and she didn't tell me anything. She, you know, taught me a few tricks with Theo." Tears fell out of her eyes as her bottom lip began to tremble. "She had a baby boy, Harry." She rubbed her face and broke down. "Oh, gods, no... Why did this bloody War have to happen?"

Branson stood up, furious. "Are you saying you agree with those Blood Traitors?"

Ella sat Theodore to the side again and stood up. "Lily was a good person!"

"She was a Mudblood!" Branson spat, glaring.

Ella was shaking; he could tell that she wanted to slap him. Instead, she picked up Theodore and glared at him. "I'd slap you if it wasn't for Theodore." She stormed passed him and headed for the parlour room. She wrenched the door open, stopped, and turned around. "You know what; I am so glad that You-Know-Who is gone now. I hope he went to hell where he belongs. Murdering people will not make this world a better place."

And then, she slammed the door shut. There was total silence.

Branson stood there, alone, and stared at the door. He'd lost her now. He'd lost everything now. All he had was Theodore.

Ella pulled Theodore up a little more and set him on her hip as she scanned Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Shop. Normally, it was so simple to spot Lily; you couldn't exactly hide when you had a head full of flaming red hair. Today, however, she was nowhere to be seen.

"Ella, to your left!" a familiar voice called.

Ella spun around and spotted a young woman waving her a hand. There was a baby boy sitting on the table in front of her. Ella swerved her way through the other tables and sat down next to the young woman with a bandana and sunglasses on.

"I didn't know you were coming incognito," Ella said with a warm smile as she sat Theodore down in a high chair next to her. She conjured up a bottle and handed it to him; he took it eagerly with his chubby fingers.

"James insisted on it; he wouldn't let me do anything otherwise," Lily sighed exasperatedly.

Ella thought about what Lily said. "It's because of my husband, isn't it? With those inquiries about him being a Death Eater and all," Ella replied softly. Lily bit her lip. "It's okay; I understand. During war, it's hard to know who to trust and who to distrust."

Lily nodded her head mutely.

"But what're we talking about this for? We need to seriously lighten up," Ella said brightly, smiling again. Lily rolled her eyes, but couldn't suppress a smile. "Speaking of seriously, how is Sirius doing?"

"He fell in love again," Lily said.

Ella frowned. "Oh, but what about-?"

Lily laughed. "He bought a flying motorcycle."

"No," Ella gasped. "But I thought he was past all that - that immaturity?"

"James isn't even past 'all that immaturity' either, Ella," Lily chuckled. "Sirius now refuses to go by Floo Powder or Apparation to work; he rides it every chance he gets." Lily shook her head. "One of these days, he's going to get himself killed."

"A flying motorcycle - what was he thinking?" Ella grinned. "What about Remus? I haven't spoken to him in a while."

Lily sighed and waved her hand around. "Oh, you know Remus, trying to get a job. He's doing fairly well though now; he's almost got one secured."

"That's good," Ella replied. "And how is Harry doing, hm?" She smiled at the baby that was in front of Lily and touched his nose. The baby, Harry, laughed and gave her a gummy smile. "He certainly seems off well."

"James smothers him," Lily giggled. "He loves Harry to death, it's mad. And it seems that Harry eats exactly the way James does - down the hatch!"

Both women laughed.

"How's your husband anyway?" Lily asked casually.

Ella sighed. "He's getting better after being sick. The Healers do work miracles sometimes," she said, catching Theodore's bottle when he let go. She handed it back to him; he went back to drinking his milk. "His boss nearly went off his rocker when he found out that Branson couldn't work for a few days. Merlin, some people are so touchy."

"Tell me about it; my boss had conniptions when I had to go on maternity leave," Lily said with a smile. "And I remember you complaining about your boss so much when you were pregnant with Theo."

Ella smoothed the small amount of hair on Theodore's head. "Oh, he's a handful. Theodore just loves to explore the house already; it's hard to keep up with him!"

"Adventurous, is he?" Lily grinned. "Harry's the same way now that he's trying to walk. He's crawling all over the place; he almost toppled down the stairs yesterday! James nearly had a heart attack; he screamed like a girl very much." She took a small sip of her tea. "We're constantly pulling stuff out of Harry's hands; he keeps taking my wand. He accidentally gave Remus hot pink hair the other day."

Ella laughed loudly. "Oh, Merlin, that had to be hilarious! What I wouldn't give to see Remus with pink hair."

"Oh, it was very handsome on him," Lily snickered.

Theodore chucked his bottle at Harry, who retaliated by tossing his pacifier at Theodore. Both women admonished their sons and handed their child's belongings back to each other.

"I'm sorry about that, Lily," Ella sighed. "I don't know what's with him; he's not like this normally." Theodore took his bottle back happily and watched his mother with wide, light brown eyes. "Our close neighbours were attacked by Death Eaters last week; Theodore played with...their son. He shouldn't understand, but I think it's upsetting him, this war, and making him so unpredictable."

Lily tapped her fingers on the table. "Well, Harry's been like that, ever since James's parents were killed." She sighed and absentmindedly ran her fingers through Harry's mop of black hair. "When he becomes fussy, I give him a warm bath, and that seems to soothe him a lot."

"Interesting, I'll have to try that some time," Ella replied. "You know, I'm hungry. How about we get something to eat?"

"I was just going to sat that." Lily smiled, and Ella laughed.

"Mummy?"

"Yes, Theo, dear, what is it?"

"Who's the Boy Who Lived?"

Theodore Nott was five years-old. Ella had stayed married to Branson; she still loved him, and it was for her son's own good. She knew that, one day, it would be her downfall. But that downfall was not right now so she didn't think about it.

Ella had been reading the Daily Prophet Thursday morning while Theodore played when he had suddenly stopped to her ask her that question. She sat the paper down.

"Why do you ask?"

"Well, Draco talks about him all the time." Theodore pulled a face; he didn't get along with six year-old Draco Malfoy too well. "He says that the Boy Who Lived destroyed You-Know-Who when he was only one. Is that true, mummy? It doesn't sound true."

Ella took a deep breath took think about what she was going to say. She looked around to make sure that her husband wasn't around and then pulled Theodore onto her lap. "Well," she began slowly, "that is true. But it wasn't easy."

"It wasn't?" Theodore asked. Ella shook her head. "But, mum, how much can a baby do to a wizard? I thought You-Know-Who was supposed to be very strong!"

"No one knows how the Boy Who Lived, little Harry Potter, did it, but he did," Ella said softly with a wistful look in her eyes. "But it cost him his family."

"His mummy and daddydied?" Theodore said quietly.

Ella's breath was hitched in her throat, and she looked away. She muttered an apology as she sat Theodore back onto his feet, stood up, and walked into the corner of the room. "Oh, gods, no...I should've got out of here when Remus gave me that chance."

"Mummy...?"

Ella turned back around to look at her son. "Yes, Theo?"

"When is Mr. Lupin coming over again?" he asked curiously. "He gave me chocolate; I really like chocolate. And he taught me a few spells." He looked down at his feet. "Daddy never gives me chocolate or teaches me spells. I don't know why. He's always so...sad."

Ella walked back over to her son and scooped him up into her arms. "Your father loves you very, very much. And I love you, too. Even if I'm not here, I will always love you and be with you, okay? Don't you ever forget that."

"I won't," Theodore said. "I promise."

At that moment, the parlour door opened, and Branson stood in the doorway. Ella turned around to face him with Theodore in her arms. "Branson, what is it?"

"You're needed in the parlour," Branson told her, avoiding eye contact with her. "It's very important that you come now. It's best to get this meeting over with quickly."

"Oh, okay," Ella said breathily. She sat Theodore down and tapped him on his nose.

Theodore grinned and pushed her finger away. "Mummy, stop it. I'm not a baby anymore."

"Doesn't matter," Ella whispered. "Don't forget?"

Theodore shook his head. "I won't."

"That's my boy," Ella said. She gave him a hug and sighed.

"What are you doing? You're going to see me really soon, like ten minutes."

Ella pulled away from Theodore and sighed. "I know. I just...care about you." Theodore grinned at her. She stood up and walked out of the room. Branson smiled weakly at his son, who didn't smile back. Instead, the young boy stood there and watched as his father slowly shut the door.

Branson stood on Platform 9 & ¾, feeling old and weak compared to the parents of the other children. They all had a spring in their steps as they kissed their children on the foreheads, hugged them, and even cried. He eyed a couple with distaste as the wife cried and the husband hugged her; judging by their clothing and how hysterical they were, they were Muggles. It was disgusting, but Branson felt tiny relief in the fact that the Dark Lord had come back. (If anything, he felt worse that the Dark Lord was back, but he didn't dare say anything about that.) He checked his watch; he'd have to be back at work very soon.

Theodore came up beside him, brushing off his dirty robes idly, and sat his old trunk down. Branson spotted the Spell-O-Tape his son had used to keep his trunk closed; he felt a tinge of guilt and embarrassment for not being able to buy his only son the best robes and a trunk with fancy carvings on it, especially when he looked at Lucius Malfoy's son, Draco. It had always surprised Branson the way Theodore shrugged it off and didn't care that he didn't have what Draco had; when he'd been Theodore's age, Branson had been humiliated when standing next to a wealthy boy.

The Hogwart's Express whistled, signalling its nearing departure.

Branson turned to his son. "Theodore, don't expect much out of this year." Theodore looked up at him, seemingly bored with him already. Branson never got used to the perpetually bored look on Theodore's face; it was only filled with excitement when he'd allow Theodore to read one of his old Potions books. "Keep your head down and don't get into a trouble. Do your best to try your hardest; this is O.W.L. year, and I have great expectations for you. Just because we are not the greatest or wealthiest purebloods doesn't mean that you can't be better than everyone else. Do you understand me?" Theodore nodded his head mutely. "And if you're lucky, by the end of this school year, you'll be-"

"If I was ever lucky, father," Theodore said quietly, "I'd have a mother right now, and I won't have to follow the same tracks you did." Branson stood there, mouth parted, feeling shocked. Theodore inclined his father. "Goodbye, father, I shall see you next summer, unless something terrible happens, like it usually does."

Branson said nothing, but watched as his son pulled his beaten trunk onto the red train without waving to him. He didn't do anything for a long time, but stare where the train had been once it left. After a while, he forced himself to go to work.

It had never occurred to him that Theodore might be right about what would happen before next summer.

Fin