Canon: He has a son at Hogwarts.
Post:
Alfred Notts. A man of little money and little morals. A man who's sole purpose in life resided within a beautiful woman who cared very little about him, treated him like dirt, but allowed him to sometimes touch her very gently and would, on very rare occasions, loan him a few galleons.
Notts was a man who had been lied to all his life. One would say that he would have learned from this. At least in his later years, he would know a lie from the truth, but in all actuality, Notts had problems with telling fiction from reality. He was a dreamer in the worst sense as his dreams normally took him a bit too far in reality. A man of unscrupulous methods, a clean home, a savings account full of lead, and an obsession for Narcissa Malfoy.
Of whom he bloody well knew she was underappreciated by her husband. He intended to rectify that one day. In his mind he could see the two of them riding off into the sunset together, on the back of some white horse that he had stolen from a Muggle, and they would be happy and all would be well.
And then she might die and leave her fortune to him.
Notts was not without his lusts nor his methods.
In Voldemort's Inner Circle, he was known as The Poisoner. He would take the potions, carefully prepared for by Snape, and administer them to the right people at the right time. This was how he became so deft at hand. Almost to the point where he did not know he was doing it. A simple tip here, a quick discoloring there, no odour here, and then the deed was done and he was free to meander around until the guests cried out for help.
Of which, there would be no one there to save the dying. He had made sure of that before the group even gathered together.
This reputation gave him a somewhat wide berth from the other Death Eaters. It would be foolish to accept a drink from his hand, food from his other. The Inner Circle treated him the exact same as they treated all the others within, but the other Death Eaters kept their distance.
To Lucius' wide range of nicknames, he was hailed simply as 'The Stalker.'
To which Lucius could only reply that it was his darling wife who helped with that name. Notts had accepted it with good nature that hid his anger very well. He was good at accepting things and administering justice to them later. Notts was not without his masks, after all.
Notts did not like the other Death Eaters purely for the fact that they tended to ignore him. He was a loner, yes, but he hated being ignored. When another stepped into the room, attention was shifted to them. When he walked in, attention remained on the people already inside. This made him feel slightly disinteresting, bored with himself almost. To which, he responded by adopting some quirks to make him seem more real to the others. He started telling outrageous stories about himself and Narcissa. He started hating the wrong people. He started becoming more morose and sullen.
Emotions were not part of the Death Eater equation, but he could be described as the brooding, sulking one. The one that would dare anything to get the notice of someone. Part of this reason was mainly due to the fact that he had to stay invisible while on a job. It was his mission, after all, to remain unseen. But that hardly meant he had to remain just so after everything was all said and done.
When Voldemort had sunk intooblivion, so did he. Acquitted and let loose on the world, he made his way through his life, angry and bitter at the Dark Lord due to the promises Voldemort had given to him and then rescinded later on in life. He was not rich. He was not famous. He was still nothing. But he did not feel dead inside. He felt vindicated, almost. Voldemort was dead. Malfoy had rotted in Azkaban for a week. He felt good.
And then the time of interrogations was over. Malfoy, Macnair,
Mulciber, all of them were cleared. None of them were deserving
enough to be cleared, but they were out and he was still living in
his life of poverty. It did not suit a Pureblood, this wretched life.
It did not suit him.
Voldemort was alive, yes. But Malfoy and the rest of the Inner Circle was against him. He was aware of what Voldemort was up to. He hated Malfoy. He lusted after Narcissa. Narcissa was in the Manor. He would rather be seen as an alley in her eyes than an enemy. So it was to the Manor he went instead of to Voldemort's side.
Approaching it felt so familiar and yet so vile at the same time. He wondered if Narcissa would answer the door and doubted she would. She was much too regal for that. A House Elf would probably answer the door, Salazar knows just how many of them the Malfoys had. He knocked three times on the door, just in case he wasn't heard the first two times.
Shoot me down, baby look at you move
Dancing like you ain't got a thing to lose
Your fight for breath
Way you look scare a man to death
I can't speak, my heart's on fire
You're the focus of my desire
Can't be real, can't be true
You might be a virgin, but you ain't brand new
I know you're a bad, bad woman
Turn around and you'll see me coming
I know you're a bad, bad woman
Good enough for me
Here I come baby watch my smoke
Gotta getcha and it ain't no joke
I hope your body ain't telling me lies
You bring a tear to my lying eyes
I wish I could, I wish I might
Get the wish I wish tonight
Drive me crazy turn me inside put
Gotta have you baby, ain't no doubt
I know you're a bad, bad woman
Turn around and you'll see me coming
I know you're a bad, bad woman
Good enough for me
Give it up baby, let me jump your bones
Fired up, almost grown
Can't believe you want me too
Here I come honey, whoop-de-do
I know you're a bad, bad woman
One look and you set me running
I know you're a bad, bad woman
Good enough for me