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Author's Note: Thank you so much for your reviews! You're bloody fantastic to me – I never expected this pile of fun-to-write word vomit and musings to get any attention. Without further ado, I hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: If I were JK Rowling, the books would have had an abundance of Nott and more Zabini. Also, the Hall of Hexes isn't my invention. I spotted it on the Marauder's Map in the HBP movie, but decided to move it from the seventh floor to the third floor for reasons of my own.

Duality: Manipulation

oOo

Harry had to consult the Marauder's Map to find the Hall of Hexes. He had never heard of it during his whole Hogwarts career and it turned out that it was the same corridor where he, Hermione, and Ron had found the room with Fluffy their first year. The voice of Trelawney in the back of his mind told him that it was a bad omen.

But when did he ever start listening to Trelawney?

The abandoned classroom was easy enough to find. Nott's dot remained stationary on the map as he approached the door and entered, stuffing the parchment back into his bag. Standing at the front of the room with a long stick in his hand, chalk in the other, and a billion notes written on the blackboard, Nott looked the very part of an instructor. Nott pushed up the large framed glasses on his nose and gestured for Harry to sit in the only desk available in the middle of the room.

"Let me guess," Harry said, walking over to his 'assigned seat', "you want to be a professor when you 'grow up'."

"Never. I can't stand kids," Nott answered, underlining the multiple categories on the blackboard and not looking at Harry while he spoke.

"Neither can Snape, but that didn't stop him."

Snorting, Nott still didn't look at him as he replied, "I highly doubt that was his first choice of career. For a Slytherin, he doesn't strike me as particularly ambitious. Snape's a prime example of wasted potential and my guess is that he is very aware of that."

Harry's brow furrowed slightly and then he shook his head, brushing off Nott's comment. "Right. Could we just get started?" he asked impatiently.

"I suppose," Nott drawled, pivoting on his feet to look straight at Harry. "As I didn't have the opportunity to give you a proper introduction in class, I'll have to start over – assuming you know absolutely nothing, which is likely." He moved his incredibly pompous pointer up to the large title 'Body Language'. "Body language is the very key to manipulat-"

"I only need to know how to get information out of someone, Nott, not everything on persuasion," Harry interrupted, raising his eyebrows. He didn't want to sit through this for any longer than necessary and he felt as if there was going to be a lecture.

"Alright then, if you think you can do without… maybe a little test is in order," Nott said with a maniacal grin creeping over his lips. "Just so I can gauge what you need."

Harry dithered. "Erm – okay."

Conjuring a chair in front of Harry's desk, Nott stalked over and took a seat across from him. "So how's the Quidditch season going for you so far?"

"I don't see what this has to do with anything," Harry said, confused by the unexpected question.

Nott grinned amiably and leaned back in his chair. "Just go along with it. I'm developing a rapport."

Doubting that Nott would be successful at 'developing a rapport' with him - of all people - Harry shrugged. "Alright, then. The season's going fine. First game's tomorrow..."

"Yes, Slytherin versus Gryffindor. Are you worried about that at all?"

Nott's question seemed innocent, but Harry was suspicious. He was sure that Nott wasn't on the Slytherin Quidditch team. Yet, what would Nott have to gain from talking to him about Quidditch?

Try not to say anything that he could use, Harry told himself.

"No, not really," Harry replied, not wanting to tell him about Ron's case of getting nervous, worked up, and failing as a result. He wouldn't put it past Nott to sell that information to Malfoy, who would definitely use it against the team.

"I suppose not. You're a good seeker – you could easily win the game in one fell swoop. You're the captain this year, right?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah."

Where was Nott really going with this?

"How do you like it?" Nott was pretty good at seeming genuinely interested in the topic, but Harry couldn't believe it for a second. He felt as if he were an experiment being observed by a mad scientist with his own mysterious and devious agenda.

"Why do you want to know?"

"I'm simply developing a rapport, Potter," Nott responded, raising his eyebrows. "We could talk about something else, if you'd feel more comfortable. Potions, perhaps?"

"Okay…" Harry wasn't exactly comfortable about talking about potions either, but it was better than Quidditch – especially with the game tomorrow.

"How did you come up with the idea of adding bilommeal grass to the Douleur Drought?" Nott seemed much more interested in that than Quidditch; his all-too-watchful bright blue eyes practically sparkled while he spoke.

"A book," Harry answered simply, wondering what he could say to steer him into another topic of potions that he was more contented with. Like… Snape or Slughorn or Wolfsbane or anything other than where he got his information.

Nott's brow rose. "What book?"

Merlin, not that question! Think of book titles… Moste Potente Potions? No, Harry doubted there would be anything on the Douleur Draught in there.

Harry shrugged, not knowing what else to do. "I don't know… Hermione always has tons of books lying about."

"Too bad," Nott muttered with a frown. "It's a truly brilliant idea. I like to give credit where credit is due."

"Yeah…" Harry breathed, absentmindedly. "How long do we have to keep doing this?"

"Oh, I believe I've all I need. You could move on to trying to extract information from me, if you like," Nott replied in a way that made Harry think that he was amused.

Harry's nerves immediately relaxed. At least Nott wasn't going to ask him any more awkward questions. Now he just had to try and persuade information out of Nott... His nerves weren't relaxed for long as he thought of what he could possibly persuade out of the Slytherin boy.

"We could use a false scenario if that would make it easier on you," Nott proposed when Harry didn't say anything for several moments.

"No,"– Harry shook his head, an idea forming –"We could make this scenario real," he said, knowing exactly what he could extract.

"This shall be interesting," Nott dryly intoned.

Harry tried to collect his thoughts of how to persuade the information out of Nott, but kept coming up a bit blank. He stared at the boy across from him and tried not to sigh. What benefits could he offer to meet Nott's needs in order to get Nott to tell him what he wanted?

"Proceed, Potter. We don't have all night."

At the moment, all his mind could come up with was bribing and, for some reason, his mouth went for it. His mind was still slightly stuck on the potions conversation as well, which gave him a little bit of inspiration – even if he didn't want to give anything involving the Prince's book to Nott. "If I said I could offer you some notes you would find very useful for the final potions exam, what would that be worth to you?"

"That depends. I don't see why I should waste my time." There was a flicker of intrigue in Nott's eyes that contradicted his words, but it was gone as soon as Harry had caught it.

Make him want to tell you the information… Harry thought. He had to sell it. "As you've said before, my marks are much better than yours in Potions and I can assure you that they're not 'augmented by Slughorn'," he elaborated, feeling a bit awkward under Nott's intense gaze.

Nott's mouth twisted into a smirk. "And what do you get out of this, Potter?"

"I want to know if your father's a Death Eater."

Rolling his eyes, Nott snorted. "Morgana's eye. I'm not going to tell you that for a bit of notes on a potion I could brew in my sleep."

That meant he had to try another angle and – Harry grinned when his mind came up with another plan – Slytherins, after all, weren't above blackmail. "Well, consorting with Death Eaters is illegal, Nott. Have you seen your father recently?" Harry asked, not missing a beat.

"That's none of your concern," Nott said unwaveringly, but Harry didn't let it stop him.

"But it should concern you. Imagine how your life would turn out if someone were to send the Ministry an anonymous tip that Theodore Nott was consorting with a very well-known Death Eater."

That should get him.

"Touché. However, it wouldn't do any good," Nott countered, not lifting his gaze from Harry's face for a second. Nott did it all throughout the 'developing the rapport', and now this, and it was starting to make him feel incredibly uneasy. Nott was one of those people that seemed to be able to look through a person and see their secrets. And he never seemed to blink.

Harry's grin faltered. "Why wouldn't it?"

"My father may or may not be a Death Eater. The Aurors can discern the truth for themselves."

He tried not to let Nott's eye contact get to him. Instead, he stared over Nott's shoulder at the blackboard to settle his thoughts. If Nott's father was a Death Eater, which Harry was certain of, and Nott wasn't afraid to take on the Aurors… that complicated things. Harry's eyebrows furrowed. But the Aurors were questioning people under Veritaserum as of late. If Nott's father was – indeed – a Death Eater, the only way that Nott could get out of a short sentence in Azkaban was if he…

"You can lie under Veritaserum," Harry deduced, looking back at the Slytherin boy.

"Can I?" Nott questioned in a dry tone. Harry couldn't discern if he was lying. Nott was so very hard to read.

"Either that's the truth or your father isn't a Death Eater."

"I just love how brilliant you are at stating the obvious," Nott sneered. "I'll just call your bluff and you'll never get any information out of me. Will you try for round three or shall I show you how to properly manipulate someone?"

"Round three." If anything, Harry was determined. And he knew something that Nott may not want to have spread round the castle, which was exactly what Harry should have blackmailed him with in the first place. "I know that you slept with Malfoy."

Nott tilted his head slightly. "Do you now?"

"Yes. As I haven't heard about it, I assume you don't want it to get out."

"So which one are you having an affair with? Blaise or Daphne?" Nott asked suddenly, sizing Harry up with his overly perceptive eyes. "Or is it Draco? You two would certainly create some sparks."

Harry tried very hard not to be surprised by Nott's abrupt accusations. "The rumours are rubbish."

"You're lying. Your left eye squints slightly and your voice takes on a different quality when you do that. You were likely bluffing when you said you'd give me those notes on the final and you lied during the rapport – you really are worried about this season, and I'm pretty sure you know exactly where you got the bilommeal grass idea from. It's all in your body language and paralanguage." Nott paused, a small smirk pulling at his lips.

Harry could only swallow thickly as Nott continued, "That aside, I'm guessing that it's Daphne. She'd appeal to you the most, I wager, and you don't strike me as a person who would go for blokes – as appealing as Blaise is to anyone."

Harry still didn't say anything, not knowing how to respond to the Slytherin boy's tirade. Nott was much better at this than he thought. At least now he knew that he went to the right person to teach him about conning information out of someone – or practically reading the truth off their face alone.

Nott's smirk widened. "And I believe we've reached an impasse." Getting up from his conjured chair, Nott said, "Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to begin once more."

Harry heaved a sigh, finding his voice. Even though Nott had clearly shown him that he needed more instruction on the topic of persuasion – reading people, more like – Harry couldn't help but ask, "You understand why I need to know, right? Is your father really a Death Eater?"

If Nott didn't answer, it would bother him to no end.

Those terribly perceptive eyes appraised him again. Harry felt the tense silence weighing down on his shoulders like a thick woolen blanket.

"No, he isn't. Think about it, Potter – if my father was a Death Eater, I wouldn't be helping you with anything at any price. I simply allow people to assume that Death Eater Nott is my father so they leave me alone. The intimidation factor is so very useful."

Harry couldn't tell if Nott was being truthful, but Nott didn't look too suspicious – even if Nott was probably talented at looking completely indifferent, and intrigued, and probably a whole bunch of emotions that came from studying body language way too much. Maybe Harry needed that lesson before he could discern if Nott was actually lying or telling the truth. He definitely didn't trust Nott, but it wasn't as if Harry was going to reveal his life story to him.

"So it's true that you're fucking Daphne?" Nott asked.

Harry bit the inside of his cheek in annoyance. Why did everyone call it that? It was a no-strings relationship type of deal. Sure, shagging was involved but that wasn't all there was.

"If you don't tell her that I told you or spread it around…" Harry trailed off with a nod. "Yes, I am."

"Hmm," Nott muttered, moving toward the blackboard. "I suppose I approve. She could do worse."

Rolling his eyes, Harry disregarded Nott's comment and turned his attention to the large blackboard. Nott wrote out a few extra things under the heading of 'body language' and Harry wondered where his sanity went as he stared at the topics. Once Nott got to writing down 'seduction', after he had written what could be considered a small novel in total, Harry lost it. There was no way he was learning how to seduce someone from Theodore Nott, regardless of Nott's experience!

"Just get on with it!"

Nott pivoted on his feet with that stupid, overly large, pointer in his hands. "Alright, Potter; body language…"

Taking a calming breath, Harry sat back in his seat and prepared himself to listen to a lesson that would probably rival Hermione's tutoring in thoroughness and duration. But if he wanted to work with Slytherins he had to start thinking like one, he supposed.

Merlin, he really could use a fag.

oOo

Author's Note: Thank you for reading! Please review.