PROLOGUE
You would dare to to touch our food you worthless, ungrateful little theif! Scrounging off the sweat and blood of our backs, I WORK FOR THIS FOOD! I PUT THE ROOF OVER YOUR SNIVELING, FREAKISH HEAD! I LET YOU IN OUR HOME, I GIVE YOU CLOTHES AND A BED AND LORD KNOWS YOU WOULD BE BETTER OFF ON THE STREET WHERE YOU COULD WHORE YOUR UNHOLY BASTARD SELF OUT TO THE REST OF SOCIETIES SCUMBAGS! AT LEAST THEY WOULD WANT YOU!
Hadrian muffled a pained scream as a bolt of pain flared through his mind, white hot agony spreading across his vision as an imaginary hand - large, meaty, adorned with a navy steel ring- crashed into his face.
ANSWER ME, FREAK! You think you can get away with eating our food, huh? Stealing what we, honest, hard-working, NORMAL, citizens have slaved away to produce? YOUR A BLOODY FREELOADER, A NUISANCE, A PESTILENCE AND A WORTHLESS, SNIVELING LITTLE RAT!
Waves of pain, crashing over his body again and again and again, feet that weren't there digging into his thighs, his stomach, meaty fists raining down on his curled frame. A weak, stuttering presence in his mind was shoving him even as he writhed in an echo of his twins pain, begging, pleading for him to close the link. A soft, shivery voice strained with effort ringing through the fog of splintering ribs and bruising cheeks,imploring him, tugging at the link between them as if to close it, but he was to weak, and it made Hadrian WANT. TO. KILL.
YOU THOUGHT YOU COULD GET AWAY WITH THIS HUH? HUH?! I'LL SHOW YOU GETTING AWAY WITH THIS, I'LL SHOW YOU WHAT DIRTY SCUMBAGS LIKE YOU GET!
" Hadrian! Hadrian! Please! He's hurting you… you don't need to be hurt, please….Please get out, you have to close the link or he'll really actually hurt you!"
Hadrian never could understand how Harry could talk while being beaten, how he could comfort Hadrian, who wasn't even feeling the full magnitude o Harry's suffering. He struggled to push out a response in disconnected thoughts.
Brother…mine…precious….hurting….all alone….musn't be alone…. Fucking Dursley…
He could feel Harry's fond exasperation, his distraction, the way he was probably smiling inside his head to make Hadrian feel a bit better about not being their to rip Vernon a new one. He had never actually seen Harry, but he imagined his face would be mostly like his- maybe a bit rounder and younger looking, since Harry always sounded so unsure and weak- and the image of himself as a skinny toddler, waving out of a photograph flashed across his mind. Harry huffed indignantly on his side of the link, but the camadrie was strained, faltering, Harry was turning over, the image Hadrian held of him in his mind, glazing over with pain and a fading consciousness.
" Harry? Are you, uh, is everything alright over there?" called Hadrian. The pain had dulled to a violent throbbing that messed with his vision but didn't hurt a ton, his eyes were closed anyways in the guise of sleep so it didn't matter much, and Hadrian was finding it much easier to think straight without fighting the instinct to scream bloody murder.
" Harry?" and then more frantically, " Harry!"
But Harry had fallen silent, even the background screaming that was always their whenever one of them got hurt had shut off, creating an odd, ringing sound of silence in Hadrian head. Abruptly, the link fell shut, a small green light glimmering behind Hadrians eyelids fluttering and then blinking out entirely, signaling Harry falling into one of his cataconic states, the kind he often fell into during beatings or punishments that meant his body had shut off completely. It always made Hadrian feel alone and quiet, without the constant background chatter that was Harry.
Hadrians littler twin talked a lot across the link, biting, snarky commentary that always tasted slightly bitter, as if he wanted to say them aloud but knew he couldn't possibly. He was right of course, they were generally about the Zoo; featuring Walrus Magnus, Piggy Lou Who'll-Punch-You, and the Horse, Petunia. Harry didn't complain much about her, just noting distastefully about whenever she bit into a particularly juicy piece of gossip or thrust her overly up-turned nose into something that wasn't her business. Like Harry's pet snake Rian. Harry hated whenever she tried to find his favorite, and only, pet.
Hadrian mostly listened whenever Harry when on one of his angry tirades, releasing stress in th only way he could without utterly demolishing Petunias Hydraenias ( Or so Hadrian was told. He often wondered why Harry didn't just up and kill something small, like a rat, to relieve his sometimes murderous urges). He was actually the more talkative of the two, Hadrian was. He liked to distract Harry from the monotonous Dursley existence; so he would wake up early each morning, bound our of bed and weave together a perfect tale to rattle on about to Harry afterwards. Classes, training, pranks, food, bullying, heroic deeds executed in Diagon Alley for kittens in distress, all the peoples and places that he'd see. He wouldn't have been surprised if it all made Harry jealous, but Harry was weird that way.
Hadrian would wake him up at the crack of dawn to chatter on about this or that or whoever and Harry would just smile ( in his head ), say something fond and sleepy and then listen, like the perfect, enraptured little brother Hadrian had always wanted to have. It made Hadrian melt.
And then unmelt and hop on a broom.
But those were the good days, where Harry had managed to scrounge up some sort of daily sustenance and Vernon was busy with work. Today…. Hadrian grimaced. Today was not a good day.
Hadrian had woken up to Harry suffering over some sort of slaving away chore, the link muffle and half-closed in a weak attempt to save Harry some sort of embarrassment. Hadrian knew to respect that. He understood Harry wouldn't want him to view his thoughts very much while Dudley was taunting him or he and his gang were hunting him. Not that Hadrian liked being locked out of Harry's mind, he hated it. He hated not being able to encompass his brother in warmth and love and courage. He hated not being able to urge him on, to distract him from merciless taunts and sharp elbows dug into soft areas. He hated going through his beautiful, ideal, magical life while Harry was screaming and crying and all he could do was pretend he couldn't hear his muffled cries of hurt.
It broke him.
Not many things could do that.
His mother, weeping over his grandfathers grave- that broke him, a little bit. His father, congratulating him on learning how to maim and kill, that broke him, a little. His sister, asking every year what his birthday was, or worse, what HER birthday was- that broke him.
But Harry, Harry always broke him much, much more then them, because Harry was him. And he was Harry.
Hadrian rolled out of his bed and landed on the cold wood floor with a dull thud and a light 'thump' of sheets, landing on him a second later. His whole body ached, throbbing with phantom aches and pains that probably meant that somewhere out there Harry- witty, sweet, dreamy harry- was lying in some godforsaken cupboard, starving and bleeding and asleep. Hadrian banged his fist on the floor. Rael pain was good, he decided, it made the fake-pain feel less real, and more like a buzzing itch under his skin than bruises pulsating over his skin like some dark curse.
A soft knock interrupted him just as he raised his head, preparing to bring it down on the floor with an almighty thunk, and he froze mid jerk, self-consciously covering up the movement with a flip onto his back. A concerned voice rumbled from behind the door.
" Hadrian? Are you up?" It was James, his voice curious and apprehensive, and Hadrian momentarily hated that he could discern from a few inconsequential squeaks that his father was shifting uncomfortably in his new pair of slippers, hovering over on of the loose floorboards and by extension the handle.
" Ah, yea. Just a minute!" he called, clambering onto the bed agin and whisking the sheets over his naked ankles, " It's only six, " he called as he flicked on the light and settled backwards on the pillows, " Why are you up so early, Dad?"
The floorboard creaked bit louder as if James had made a startled movement onto his partially lame left foot- Hadrian hated how he could tell, however well his dad covered it up- which was heavier and moved slowly.
" I got a call…" James sighed and gently creaked the door open, popping his head in the crack and taking in Hadrian's half covered, half out of bed appearance " Oh, don't get out of bed yet, kiddo. Theres no classes today, Minerva fire called me and your mother and um, well…" he trailed off sounding disgruntled and sheepish.
" That's good, right?" Hadrian frowned, propping himself up on one elbow. James faces crinkled in distaste as he shook his head, looking tired and rumpled and a bit uncomfortable hovering in the doorway.
" I guess you could say that…" grumbled the Auror, " Minerva sure as hell didn't say it like that. I swear she's got a stick somewhere I don't want to know and it's driving her into a damnable hell of a tizzy. She called twice earlier and.."
That Hadrian knew, and barely managed to keep the bitterness from surfacing on his clearly illuminated face. Whenever Harry fell into one of his healing comas, the wards that Dumbledore monitored around the Dursleys would glitch and Minerva would freak, calling everyone and anyone, sounding frantic and flustered, demanding sometimes that someone go and CHECK ON HADRIANS LITTLE BROTHER. Bless her soul for Lord knows that she was the only one who ever worried- going so far on one memorable occurrence to sink to her knees before Hadrian and beg forgiveness for failing him, whispering over and over how sweet baby-Harry had been, how smart and quiet and obedient. She was the only one who kicked up a fuss, calling the Potters every morning at ungodly hours to pester them and prod them. Often, when she was in one of her more vindictive moods, she would pull the No-One-Has-Even-Checked-On-Harry-Not-In-Years card, just to win an argument and hit the Potters as hard as possible in their self-esteem.
Hadrian thought they could deal with it more often, but apparently twice in one day was enough to replicated the effect of a partially domesticated Dementor in the Potter household.
" She really isn't in too good of a mood then. Glad classes are canceled then, Father, " Hadrian said frigidly, " How is mother-?"
Lily took the calls badly, and however much Hadrian over his mother, he couldn't help but feel a sinister glee whenever her face would crumple into an ugly grimace of guilt and pain.
" Holding out." James replied curtly, carding his fingers through sleep tousled locks, "Well. Dn't let me keep you. The day is yours till seven."
Hadrian twisted his face into what he hoped looked like a smile, but quickly aborted it in favor of a yawn. His father looked at him oddly, but shut the door, his footsteps fading away once more, heavy but quiet.
With a sigh, Hadrian deflated into the pillows. He hated days like this, when he couldn't do anything. When Harry was quiet and hurting and his mind and magic felt weak and thin and there was no blasting dummies to hell to relieve the stress. He could always tease Rosemary but then Lily wold be on his ass and his bed was pretty comfortable right now… Besides, it was his sisters day with the press and both she and probably James and Lilly would be making discreet, well-scripted appearences in the Daily Prophet and Heralder of the Saints. Not that she could look respectable if Hadrian spelled her hair purple and permed like a muggle clowns.
Maybe he would just stay in bed all day, summon one of the Chaos-Carrot's sickness inducing candies and skive off of family bonding time, wait until Harry woke up, maybe booby trap Rosemary's second bedroom…. It would have to be something small and unnoticeable, he mused, rolling to the edge of the bed and rummaging around beneath it for a special notebook that he hid there… There! His hand hit something slick and springy and Hadrian hauled it p, onto his stomach, balancing the thick leather tome on it's ruby spine. Itching powder, speech impediment's, gradual hair loss. Perhaps he could spell her toothbrush to make her taste only mangos, or better yet, have the Chaos-Carrot's spell it. A couple of masterful tweaks and she would be choking on pineapple, mango and papaya toothpaste.
Or maybe he would ask Harry. Harry had good ideas, though he didn't quite fathom what exactly could be done with magic. He would probably say something like 'after brushing teeth twice, the mutation charm would take effect, and after each brush her hair would go through the natural stages of developing highlights, except green or something. That good enough?', and Hadrian would try to explain that it didn't work like that and Harry would flush over the link and start getting shy or worse, annoyed. When Harry got annoyed, he got angry on a 'On Hadrian this face would mean I'm Pissed Run Away Now' scale; hissingg and growling and sulking.
An annoyed Harry was very annoying.
But cute. Harry would never be not cute, Hadrian was convinced. He was awkward, he was shy, he was reckless, he was emotional, he was timidly polite, wary like a friendly dog who doesn't really know what to think. But above all, Harry was Hadrians little, abused, malnutritioned twin, and it was his duty as the older, bigger of the two to find everything that Harry did heartwarmingly sweet.
Hadrian chuckled envisioning Harrys flustered reply if he had been listening in on that particular train of though. He would probably try to mask it with some indignant remarks about pranks and about how " I don't talk like that, and that an awful idea- mine are loads better!".
Hadrian fell asleep like that, humming and thinking fondly of his twin while his sheets struggled to tug him back up onto his ebd.
Hours later, Hadrian would deny ever getting bored of lying in bed, sleeping and occasionally munching on something that the house elves cooked up- but before he knew it his feet had carried him all the way through the Manor and across the yard to the end of the wards. It was an enchantingly pretty border ( not that Hadrian would admit it, because boys didn't use words like 'pretty'), where the small glade attached to Potter Manor melted into a rolling, dark wood, and the trees, growing steadily taller and more shrouded in shadows, became saturated in a thick, perfumed magic.
The wards were large, towering walls of pure, stifling magic, a shimmering dome of purple tinted glass that reminded Hadrian of spun sugar. Brittle and pungent. Idly, he extend one hand into the shimmering mass, already anticipating the little buzzing shocks of electricity that greeted his fingertips, dancing around his bare skin like spirits of curiosity, nipping, nuzzling and twirling about. He withdrew he hand when one bolt tentatively shocked him, a sign that any further and he would end up a charred stick of black bones. It wouldn't go that far of course- he was keyed in and his magical signature was immune to any crippling effects- but be had done it once before in a hare-brained attempt to rescue Harry and ended up riddled with burns on the front lawn.
It was one of the more memorable moments of Harry disgustingly horrible life, and Hadrian brooded over it with a frown marring his afec. Hysterical after being forcibly locked out of a violently punished Harry, he had almost flung himself out of his school-room window in an attempt to get closer, as-close-as-possible, to harry. He had sprinted clean across the yard and straight through the wards before fainting of blood-loss on some vacant plot of woodland, tired from dragging his battered, buzzing body over hills on his belly, screaming at the top of his lungs for his brother to let him in.
A panicked Sirius and Remus and tracked him down and brought him back, and the two of them had tried to help him many times since, aware as they were of his secret link to his twin, and quickly became a mother-restricted rescourse.
" Too much of Sirius is like too much alcohol 'Rian, in small amounts it's fairly enjoyable. In large amounts, you wind up either sick, naked, or extremely embarrassed. Add Remus and it's a bloody cocktail for disaster!"
They had managed to concoct a few schemes together though, on some dark, rainy nights holed up in the Attic of Siri's house with a bookcase full of Black relics and a Uni graduate ( Remus, obviously).
" If only the hidey hole had actually worked, " mumbled Hadrian to himself, sliding down the wall of his newest hideout; a shadowy circle of pines he had engraved with a couple of runes that showcased a glittering peek at a purple sky. It had been Sirius' idea, get him in with a house elf, hide him away from a nosy James and Lily and visit under pretenses of exploring with Remus , whom Lily secretly approved of ( actually it wasn't so secret, the two of them had lunch everyday, and Sirius had to wait outside or else be threatened via frying pan). Come to think of it, Hadrian mused, the problem hadn't been with the House-elves. No, he was pretty sure their magic worked differently from the wards, and Harry was enough like Hadrian to be pretty safe…. The problem had been the Hidey Hole itself.
The old for-Harry-only hide hole had been the bottom of an abandoned trunk. A rather spacious, charmed to be bigger on the inside, trunk, but a rusted, moldy box of wood nonetheless. Lily and Alice had thrown it away. The second Hidey hole, version 2.0 had been a tree house with a couple off the blueprint room that the Potters hadn't known about. James had crashed into it on broomstick with a rather sheepish Sirius in tow. The next one had been a 'through the looking glass' portal based, mirror anchored portal into Grimmauld place. The wards had abolished it. The last one had been a glade like the one Hadrian was sitting in, shady and caressed by soft breezes.
Rosemary set it on fire trying to prank her 'meanie older bother'.
But that had just been hidden, tucked away in the folds of mother nature; this glade, this glade was charmed. Pulsing within a web of runic sub-wards Hadrian had programmed into the trees clumsily, just rudimentary but overpowered notice-me-not, glamours, and booby-trapping…maybe….