"Friends," Bole scoffed derisively, "What good are friends that won't come running when you're attacked? You've put a lot of faith in people who don't give you a second thought Nott..."
Bole took another step, not toward Theo, who had made it clear he wasn't afraid to use his wand, but circling around him at the same distance. "I wonder what your friends would say if they knew you were out here with me now," He continued, his tone mocking thoughtfulness, "I wonder if they'd understand your motives. I don't, but then, I'm not your friend."
He grinned wide, his eyes sharp, looking for and finding so many weaknesses to exploit should he need to. Physical weakness. What couldn't run, couldn't fight. "And if you're curious about what I get, well... I get to go back and be in charge of the place I had the most fun! Azkaban!" His smile widened for a moment, mentally reminicising over the power he'd held over so many of the muggleborns rotting in their cells. He shrugged, still smiling, "Plus, I can't say I dislike the work."