Shadow Child
By Tango Dancer


Hi Guys! I have to say: thank you so very much! Your reviews were amazing, it was brilliant to read them all, though I couldn't answer all of them, and for that I'm sorry. I apologize for the delay, but this chapter just didn't want to be written (plus, I didn't have my laptop during my trip abroad, so that a fortnight of writing abstinence T-T), and I only just finished it. I hope you like it as much as the first one. There was one review in particular that needed answers, though, so here they come:

avalonchick5: In fact, most of your questions will get an answer in this chapter, except for the one about Remus. Well, sorry Remus-lovers, but our beloved werewolf died in the war in this story. I thought about it for some time and couldn't think of anything I could with him so... But I love him^! And yes, I will be continuing this. Maybe it will even be longer than the three chapters I thought it would be, I don't know. Details about Hadrian and Draco's friendship will be given in the third chapter, I think. Thank you for all your questions, by the way. I'm pretty sure I'd have overlooked all of this had you not mentioned it^^! A cookie for you!

Also, someone I won't name sent me an amazing review -I hope you can see the sarcasm dripping here- about how Hadrian's abuse was unbelievable and all that. I'll tell you this: this is fanfiction, not the real world. It happens in a magical world. People have magic healing them and making them stronger. Thankfully, I had 41 people to tell me this was actually believable, plus all of those who favorited the story, thank you all, I love you!

Here goes the chapter, dedicated to help does wonders for her (?) wonderful review, it came as a light in a really, really bad day.

Enjoy!


Chapter 2:

He felt like he had been trampled on. His limbs felt heavy, his head was pounding, his eyes were prickling, and he felt like he had scratched his throat raw when he tried to swallow.

It wasn't nice.

It wasn't nice at all.

But Hadrian Potter was a courageous young man and had seen far worse, and so he opened his eyes anyway, only to close them immediately when he was blinded by the light which seemed to be flooding the room.

"Fuck..."

It was unlike him to swear, he usually always kept his composure and always made sure to be polite and graceful in all occasions, if only to give off the image of the perfect Pure-Blood he would have been had his mother not decided to make him a mistake, but this time, he really felt like shit, and his mind seemed filled with cotton.

"Yes, that's one way to see things." A familiar voice said from one corner of the room as the drapes slid shut, and he finally could peer through his eyelids and at the person.

"Drake..." He croaked out, and tried to sit up, only to fall back down on the pillow with a grimace of pain as the blonde skipped over to him and helped him drink a few sips of clear water.

"How are you feeling?"

He closed his eyes briefly as the other Seventh Year arranged the pillows so that he could rest against them while sitting up.

"Fine."

The immediate shift in the atmosphere told him it was the wrong answer, and effectively, a glance showed him that silver eyes had narrowed and darkened in utter rage and fury.

"No, you are not fine. How could you, Hadrian? How could you lie to me all this time?"

"What are you talking about?" He asked, confused and wary.

"What am I talking about?" Draco screeched. "What am I talking about? What do you think I'm talking about? You said you weren't more abused than what I saw! You promised me you would tell me if it went overboard! You said...!"

"I said I would tell you if I felt I wouldn't make it. But it never happened, and I did make it through it every time. I never broke my promise."

The blonde's eyes narrowed into slits.

"Don't you dare go all Slytherin on me, Hadrian Azrael Black. Oh yes, I know all about your origins." He added as he saw the blood drain from the other's face. "Apart from the fact that you had already told me, Lord Lestrange performed a spell on you to show your origins. Seeing as you still go by the name of that man when you look nothing like him, it's not so surprising, but now, your little secret is out."

He stopped. The abused boy had gone so pale he thought for a second he was going to faint.

"Who... who else...?"

"Who else knows? Oh, pretty much nobody, just me, Lord Lestrange, my father, Headmaster Snape and..."

Each name had the Black heir pale even further, and he wondered vaguely how it was even possible when he was almost translucent already. Hadrian's voice was barely a whisper when he spoke again.

"And?"

Molten silver met navy blue.

"And the Dark Lord."

The young man looked positively sick, and clasped a hand over his mouth.

"Are you okay?" Draco asked, concerned.

"Are you kidding me? How could I be okay when the most powerful men of this time have seen me in such a pathetic state!" His voice was a broken whisper, but his eyes remained dry.

"I wouldn't worry about that, Mr Black." A new voice said, and his head snapped up towards the doors of the infirmary. He paled again.

There stood the Headmaster, the Malfoy Lord, the Lestrange Lord... and the Dark Lord, who had just spoken. But he managed to regain his composure, sliding an expressionless mask over his features with practiced ease, and laying his hands in his lap in the most dignified attitude his current position allowed him.

"My Lord." He greeted, bowing his head. "Headmaster, Lord Lestrange, Lord Malfoy."

The four men stepped further into the room, closing the door behind them, and stopped by his bed, before sitting down into comfortable looking armchairs they conjured out of thin air. A single glance to Draco was enough for the young man to excuse himself and leave the room, and Hadrian felt anxiousness twist his gut. They knew, and if his 'parents' ever found that out, they would kill him. But denying it would lead him nowhere with those four men, and he knew better than to play dumb. They just wouldn't tolerate his trying to make them look like they had just dreamed the whole thing. It would almost be like he called them liars. And that wouldn't go over well.

At all.

The five looked at each other silently for a little while. The adults were quick to notice how wary the younger male seemed, his body stiff and his eyes alert even though his terrible injuries had just been healed.

"So, Hadrian Black, is it? We found you in a very bad shape... Mind explaining that?"

How the hell could the man just corner him with a single question? He wouldn't ever say he was abused, but he couldn't lie to them either, and he was far too tired to think properly and find a proper way out. Falling down the stairs wouldn't do such damage, and he would obviously have been tended to by his parents if he lived in a normal family. So he settled for not answering, just gazing steadily at the four men, all the while making sure his Occlumency shields were in place.

"We were most impressed by the quality of the glamors applied on you. Did you ask someone to cast them for you, or did you do it yourself?" The Dark Lord continued.

Hadrian hesitated. But then again, he couldn't really say he had, for the simple reason that they wouldn't believe him after his duel with the man.

"I cast them." He said quietly.

Severus' eyebrows rose.

"An impressive feat, especially if we assume you did so ever since first year... Is that the case?"

Onyx met dark blue, and the boy slowly inclined his head. The adults' faces hardened as they got the confirmation that the Gryffindor had been hiding his suffering for such a long time.

"Why didn't you ever come to us?" Lucius said, in a soft voice completely opposite his usual cold and indifferent demeanor. "Draco is your cousin. I am your uncle, and Narcissa your aunt... We are family... Why not seek us out?"

Hadrian looked up, his eyes guarded, and the blond immediately understood his mistake. Considering his life, the raven-haired teen would never have had a good conception of what 'family' was.

"My parents are considered Light, and well-known for their hatred of anything regarding the Dark Lord, Lord Malfoy. I don't think it would have been... profitable to come to you. Besides, I am nothing more than a bastard to you and yours. A mistake. I have no place in the Pure-Blood circles."

The aristocrat shook his head.

"Even though we don't usually accept that our... illegitimate children carry the family name, we make sure they have a stable and secure life, Mr Black. I can assure you we would have done everything in our power to remedy to your... predicament." He paused. "Considering the situation, I think we could make an exception. If you were willing, the Malfoy family will gladly welcome you into its fold."

Dark blue eyes widened in shock, before narrowing in askance. A few seconds passed before the young man finally spoke, choosing his words carefully.

"Forgive me if I am quite skeptical, Lord Malfoy, but for a second here, I thought I heard you offer to adopt me into your family..."

"That is exactly what I said, yes."

"Why?"

The question had been short, the tone, sharp, cutting. His gaze never wavered from the blonde, studying him, evaluating him, and suddenly, they understood both why Hadrian Black had earned the Slythindor surname, and also, that this young man wasn't afraid to die. He had already come close to death far too often to be fazed by it anymore. If anything, a green light would be nothing more than freedom to him.

"Why indeed." The blonde man said as he leaned back in his chair. "I find that the conditions you have been living in for the past sixteen years of your life are inhuman. Nobody should ever experience what you have, much less a child. Nobody deserves that kind of treatment. It has nothing to do with pity," he added quickly as he saw the boy open his mouth, looking affronted, "but rather with family honor. Wizards pride themselves in their power, purity and especially their values. Children are sacred to us, because they are our future, and abusing one as seriously as you have been, especially one as powerful, beautiful and with such blood as you have." He paused. "You, Hadrian, are the last heir to the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black. Your father was killed when he was barely eighteen, your aunts are all married, and Sirius Black was disowned and killed during the war, making you, as the only remaining direct descendant of a Black scion, the last person with the right to claim the Lordship. Your disappearance would be a real tragedy in terms of Wizarding power, genealogy, and purity. It is people like you who ensure the perpetuity of magic. You ally powerful old blood with strong new one. Just like our Lord."

He glanced at the Dark Lord, who nodded in approval. That little speech, however, didn't seem to impress the young man.

"Thank you very much for the offer, Lord Malfoy," he said coldly, "but I am afraid my 'parents' are still alive and well, and have custody of me. What is more, I will turn seventeen in a few months. Therefore, I don't want to bother you with paperwork which would only last for such a short period of time."

The four men couldn't help but raise and eyebrow at the sudden change in attitude. The boy seemed almost hostile now, and was only polite because of their position and titles. Had they been anyone else, there was no doubt that was the point where he would have dismissed them and left. He refrained from doing that, however, and settled on gazing at them impassively, waiting for them to leave.

"I am afraid," Voldemort said, "that I cannot leave the matter. As I'm sure you have guessed, Madam Pomfrey has handed us a complete report on your health, and what she found was most... disturbing." He paused, and looked the young man in the eye.

"Considering the fact that your step-father raped you, along with your mother, and you sported obvious abuse damage, we can't let you in their custody. If you do not accept Lord Malfoy's offer, you will be placed in an appropriate foster family, the choice of which you won't have."

"This is blackmail." Hadrian hissed, never denying anything.

In a sense, it was good that he accepted what had been done to him, and never tried to act as if he deserved it or it was normal, but it was also very disturbing to see that he was so used to it he never even flinched when the words were spoken in his presence. The abuse had become his routine, and they couldn't help but wonder how deep the mental damage was rooted.

"This is done for your own good." The Dark Lord answered quietly. "I have never tolerated child abuse, and will certainly not start now. Consequently, I am determined to do whatever it takes to ensure you have the minimum safety and love a family should provide their child with. As Ruler of the Wizarding World, it is my job to make sure you have everything you need, and I will use all means necessary to reach that goal."

He paused, looking sternly at the young man.

"You seem to get along well with young Draco, and Lady Malfoy is your aunt. They can give you what you obviously never had, meaning a family. You will be cared for, have your own room, three meals a day and more if you want, clothes to wear, and everything else you might need. You will never want for anything should you accept Lord Malfoy's offer. Consider it."

Hadrian didn't answer. Obviously, there was something nagging at him about the opportunity, or else he would have jumped at it. He was smart, he wouldn't let something like that pass if he didn't have reason enough to do so.

"Why are you conflicted, child?" Severus asked with a gentleness none of them were used to hear in his words.

Navy blue eyes looked up at him. He seemed torn between answering truthfully, lying or plain refusing to speak, before finally, a short glance at the blonde aristocrat seemed to decide him to talk.

"I don't want a big scandal." He said.

Voldemort frowned. The boy had eluded the question. Though his concern was genuine, the reason he had voiced was only one of the smallest problems that seemed to be stopping him from accepting.

"I assure you, Mr Black, I have enough power to make sure nobody will hear of it. The whole thing will be on a need-to-know basis, and only the people directly involved in the process will know of it. And I will give precise instructions not to speak about it."

Hadrian hesitated, his eyes flickering between the four men, before going to rest on Lucius. He inclined his head, and they couldn't help but notice how graceful and composed all of his moves were, how aristocratic he was already, even though he obviously hadn't received the education someone with his blood should have been given.

"Very well, then. If your offer is still standing, Lord Malfoy, then I will take you up on it. I apologize for the bother."

The man merely waved the apology away.

"Nonsense, you are family." He stood, and looked at his Lord. "I will go and start with the custody transfer papers immediately, My Lord."

"Very well. I expect a report no later than tonight Lucius. You may go."

"Yes, My Lord."

The blonde bowed lightly, nodded at Rodolphus and Severus, smiled at Hadrian and left. The three remaining adults turned back to the Seventh year, and noticed that though he was doing an admirable job at hiding it, he was exhausted. They rose to their feet.

"Rest, Mr Black. We shall continue this conversation when you feel better."

He waited for them to be out of sight before leaning back down on his pillows and closing his eyes, never noticing the crimson gaze watching him as he did so and fell asleep. The Dark Lord silently shut the door and turned to his two lieutenants.

"He is asleep."

The three men then went back to their occupations, the image of a broken seventeen-year-old hovering at the back of their mind at all times. But there wasn't anything more they could do now other than wait.

o-O-o

"Come on, Slythindor, we're almost there. Have you got all your things?"

Hadrian nodded at Draco and grabbed the handle of his trunk, briefly thanking Blaise Zabini for taking it down the luggage tray above his hand. The dark-skinned boy was extremely tall and towered over his own 5 feet 8 inches, and it was ridiculously easy for him to reach the trunk while Hadrian himself would have had to climb on the seat to get it.

The train slid to a halt, and a glance through the window was enough to tell him they had pulled into King's Cross, and that the station was filled to the brim with eager parents and hyper siblings who couldn't wait to see their missing family members again. It was Christmas holiday already, and the Headmaster had informed him that he was to spend the holiday at Malfoy Manor with Draco and his parents, since the paperwork, though not finished yet, was at a point where a complaint had been filed against the Potters for child abuse, murder attempt and rape on a minor, thus getting a restricting order against them. If they were seen around him, they would immediately get arrested and sent to Azkaban, no questions asked. Not that they wouldn't eventually be anyway, but it would just speed the process up.

Strangely enough, after the infirmary incident and his being found out by the Dark Lord and his men, Draco had introduced him to his Slytherin friends, and if they had seemed a little mistrustful at the beginning, they had quickly taken a liking to him, and he was now rarely seen without at least one of them around. The reason, he suspected, had to do with the fact that Ronald Weasley, leader of the Gryffindor gang and who already didn't like him, had decided that his hanging out with them made him evil and a menace, and thus started to bully him even more than he used to. Meaning that he had gone up a notch and from merely ignoring him or sending verbal jibes at him, to hexing him and physically kicking him.

Theodore Nott had come across such a scene once, and even though Hadrian had been handling it just fine -meaning he just ignored the idiots and cast a shield on himself, the Slytherin had judged it unsafe for him to wander around by himself, and thus established some kind of schedule so that they would all take turns protecting him. He had protested at the beginning, of course, but Pansy had been quick to shut him up, and now he said nothing, but still thought it was completely unnecessary. He couldn't deny, however, that this strange feeling of being looked after and having his back guarded made a strange warmth blossom within his chest.

And it scared him as much as it comforted him.

Hope wasn't something mistakes were supposed to have.

o-O-o

Lady Malfoy, he decided, was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She had long golden hair falling in gentle waves down her back to the middle of her spine, and sapphire blue eyes very similar to his own, high cheekbones and pale skin, and all in all, a bone structure very similar to his own. Despite his being male and her female, his past had made him small for his age, very thin, and it always seemed to him that he looked far too effeminate for his taste.

But then again, that wasn't something he could change, now, was it?

"Lady Malfoy," he said, brushing his lips over her knuckles, "it is a pleasure to meet you. Thank you for your hospitality."

She smiled at his politeness.

"Nonsense, Hadrian. We are family, it is only natural for me to welcome you into my house. Please call me Narcissa."

"Very well, Narcissa."

He didn't like the fact that she wanted him to use her first name. She was a stranger to him, and an adult, and therefore a figure of authority. As a legitimate child, she was of better standing than him. In other words, she was superior to him in all aspects, and he didn't feel comfortable calling her Narcissa. But refusing would be rude of him, and he would rather die than prove himself ill-mannered and as forgetful of Pure-Blood traditions as his 'father'. So he indulged her and greeted Lord Malfoy, inwardly grimacing as the man told him to call him by his first name too. The corner of Draco's lips quirked up as he watched the proceedings, enjoying the fact that it would be his family who would give Hadrian what he needed so desperately, and save him from the hell he had to go through for all those years, while he could do nothing but watch as he was too much of a coward to risk losing that precious friendship.

And so he followed gleefully as each adult side-along apparated one of them away to the Manor after one last wave at the remaining Slytherins on the platform.

o-O-o

"My Lord."

"Good evening, Narcissa, Lucius, Severus." The three straightened up from their respectful bow. "And where are young Draco and Hadrian?"

"They left to Diagon Alley. Something about meeting Blaise Zabini and the rest of their Slytherin group." The only female in the group answered.

The Dark Lord nodded as an elf served him a glass of fine Brandy, and gently swirled the liquid in the expensive crystal.

"How is he?"

He knew immediately something was wrong, and sat up in his armchair.

"What is it?" He inquired, not showing any of the puzzlement he felt at the genuine concern he felt for the boy.

"He is fine. Physically at least." Lucius answered hesitatingly.

Voldemort rose an eyebrow.

"But?"

"But he behaves the same as the day we officially met him." Severus said. "He obviously doesn't like calling Lucius and Narcissa by their first name, though he hides it very well, and never strays from the Pure-Blood guest attitude."

"In other words, he acts like this isn't his home, and he could be cast out any time." Narcissa picked up, her blue eyes sad. "He obviously doesn't believe we are sincere in our welcome, and expects to be kicked out anytime. He keeps his distance, and remains polite and aloof. He makes sure we get our time alone with Draco, but never with him. He doesn't... he ensures not to be a part of this family."

The Dark Lord frowned, taking a sip of alcohol.

"A fear of attaching himself only to suffer more in the end, most likely." He concluded softly. "How is he with Draco?"

"As usual, I presume." Lucius answered. "Draco hasn't said anything to me. But then again, he could have been covering for him."

"Or Hadrian made sure he wouldn't notice anything." Severus slipped in.

"Well, he does seem more integrated whenever Draco is in the same room." Narcissa said thoughtfully.

"Seem being the keyword here," Severus commented, "that boy is as Slytherin as I am."

Voldemort nodded absently, gazing at the amber liquid swirling in his glass.

"Yes, indeed. I can only surmise the only reason he didn't go to Salazar's House was because of his 'parents'." He spat the last word with barely concealed contempt and hatred.

He had always loathed child-abusers with a passion. Having had a bad childhood himself, he had sworn early on that he would do everything in his power never to let another child go through what he had experienced. And yet, here was a boy, so similar to himself and yet so different, insofar as he had gone through so much worse than him, but remained pure of heart. His manners were that of the Dark Pure-Blood families, elegant and graceful, and yet, he never showed any sign of hating the Potters, who had taken his childhood, his innocence, his virginity.

But, he reflected as he sipped his drink, their cases were complete opposites at the same time, for where Voldemort had been abused by ignorant Muggles and had had no idea of his heritage until he turned eleven, Hadrian, on the other hand, had been raised by a wizard and a witch, and beaten repeatedly ever since he was but a babe.

Most likely told all sorts of horrors ever since he was able to understand, told he was a mistake, and abused to within an inch of death. The Dark Lord, for all he had suffered, had had the luck -he realized that now, to keep his virginity until he wanted to shed it, and never to be too verbally abused. And whatever 'freaks!' and insults had been thrown to his face he ignored, because he had known from an early age that they were the mundane, where he was extraordinary, above average, both in intellect and in that strange power he had to make things happen when he wanted them to.

Something nobody else could do.

Hadrian Black had never had the consolation of having some kind of power over the ones bullying him. His 'parents' had been magic-users, and had obviously used it against him. He had been treated worse than an house-elf, mistreated and starved, by the people who should have loved him. Voldemort had had nobody. But Hadrian had parents.

And that made it all the more painful and shocking because they were the very ones he should have been able to turn to for comfort and safety, but they had only brought him pain and sorrow, and loss. A terrible, gaping loss.

Voices tore him out of his musings, and he heard quick footsteps before Draco appeared in the doorway, his cheeks flushed from the cold and his eyes glinting with animation. He stopped briefly at the sight of him, and bowed.

"My Lord." He greeted, before turning to the other three. "Mother, Father, Uncle Sev."

"Draco. How was your trip?"

The young man walked in, and took a seat, before turning to the door and beckoning Hadrian over. The Gryffindor, who had been hovering in the doorway, stepped forward with his usual reserved gait, and greeted each and everyone of them silently. The Dark Lord immediately noticed that he was wearing new robes, which clung to his thin frame, revealing his fragile build and showing how small he really was. However desirable he was with those clothes, that sight only made the man tighten his grip on his glass until his knuckles were white, furious to even think about the hunger the poor boy had had to go through to reach such levels of skinniness.

"Nice robes you have here, Hadrian." Lucius commented approvingly. "They fit you well."

"And that color is perfect for you, except that you're as thin as a stick." Narcissa added. "You need to eat much more than that, young man, this is far from healthy."

The Black heir inclined his head in submission, but said nothing. A normal child would have rolled his eyes, made a fiery answer maybe, or smiled at their concern, pleased to see that they cared about him. But he didn't. No light came to brighten those dark eyes, and no smile came to those soft lips. There were a few minutes during which Draco spoke animatedly, talking about their little outing, how they had dragged the unfortunate Gryffindor into clothing store after clothing store, and how Pansy, Daphne and Millicent had had the time of their lives playing dress-up with him, saying that it would be unbecoming for him to be seen wearing anything less than the finest quality they could find, especially if he was going to claim his inheritance as the last male Black heir.

Hadrian said nothing the whole time, merely enjoying his lukewarm Butterbeer as he gazed absently at the roaring fire, his sculptural face lighted by the flames the shadows of which enhanced the sharp angles of his features eerily. He was beautiful, Voldemort thought as he watched him quietly, beautiful, just like a Fallen Angel. Though the image would usually have him snorting in mockery, he couldn't deny that it was the only thing he could liken him to in this moment, with his hair the color of ebony, deep blue eyes staring at the fire in mournful contemplation, pale complexion and a long-fingered hand gracefully holding a glass he delicately rose to his pink lips from time to time, dark eyelashes shadowing his eyes and brushing his cheekbones in pleasure when the liquid warmed his throat.

He was, Voldemort noticed, sitting a little stiffly still, a proof that if his injuries had been healed, he was still feeling quite sore, and maybe wasn't completely comfortable here. The Dark Lord couldn't blame him for his lack of trust: though it was obvious he trusted Draco enough to include him in his secret, the pair had known each other for years, and were the same age, while the adults Hadrian barely knew. And he had been as good as forcefully shipped off to Malfoy Manor, his custody taken from his 'parents' and his life upturned in a matter of minutes. Of course he wouldn't trust them. Yet, for some reason, it made Voldemort's stomach twist with a feeling he couldn't place.

"How was your trip?" He asked quietly, curious to see what the boy had to say about it. Draco was still talking animatedly to his parents and godfather, and so they wouldn't be disturbed in their conversation.

Hadrian looked up, seemingly to check that it was him the Lord was talking to, and then immediately lowered his eyes on his glass.

"It was good. Draco and the girls had a lot of fun playing dress-up."

His voice was completely toneless, neutral, as if he didn't care in the least, or had been taught never to express anything, which was very likely: either the Potters had punished him whenever he showed any kind of emotions, or he had understood that the best way for him to survive would be never to show what he thought. A truly Slytherin way of thinking. But Voldemort knew by experience that often, bullies love the sounds of distress of their victims. Hadrian must be an extraordinary Occlumens if he mastered his emotions to that extent.

"With you as a doll, I presume?" He couldn't keep the amusement from his voice.

Dark blue eyes flashed up to his face, then back down.

"Indeed."

The Dark Lord hummed and took a sip of Brandy. They kept silent for a while, before he spoke again. He wanted to hear more of that low voice, those smooth tones, see more of these pink lips moving. The boy was too perfect to be human; he was fascinating.

"I started the paperwork for you to claim the Black estate."

Something indescribable flashed in the dark blue orbs, but the boy said nothing.

"The Blacks are a very old and wealthy family, as I am sure you know, and as the sole male heir, you will inherit everything they have. Believe me when I say that's quite a lot."

A nod.

"The process should be over by the next week since I am speeding it up, but you will need to go to Gringotts with me to sign the final paperwork."

Again, Hadrian inclined his head.

"This will be the final step of your leaving the Potters. You will be completely independent."

Nothing. He was starting to grow annoyed. Why the hell wasn't the boy reacting? He glanced around. The Malfoys and Severus were still there, and he wanted to speak to the boy alone, so he focused back on him.

"Have you ever been in the gardens?"

"Yes I have."

"Did you like it?"

"They're beautiful." The reverence in his voice said far more than that, and the Dark Lord found himself hiding the soft smile it brought to his lips.

"Would you like to take a walk there with me?" He was careful to keep it a question, and not an order or a demand, and he knew the boy had noticed when narrowed dark blue eyes settled on his face, searching for something, calculating the odds that it be some kind of elaborate trap. He must have seen something reassuring, though, because he gave a cultured nod and stood as fluidly as his sore body allowed him.

"Very well." He said softly.

o-O-o

After that, Voldemort came by more often, to keep the boy company. He was, he found, as intelligent if not more than what Draco had told them, and he enjoyed conversing with him immensely. Talking with him often brought him a new insight on things, and if it also helped the boy to open up, then it was killing two birds with one stone. He discreetly broached government problems in the conversation, and often left with solutions he would never have thought of, or dismissed as risky.

Hadrian was indeed a genius.

And the Dark Lord found himself looking forward more and more to their daily meetings. He liked to think, after seeing the corner of the young man's quirk up when he saw him once, that he was equally pleased to see him. Oh, he was nowhere near the point of trusting him, but if they weren't friends yet, at least Hadrian somewhat enjoyed his company and seemed to open up a little more. It was a slow process: at first, he never spoke unless spoken to, just listened. But as the days passed and the Dark Lord kept coming and talking, never pressuring him into anything, the faraway look of polite interest on his face gradually faded away into a genuinely interested expression, and one day, Voldemort found himself being stared at intently by two deep blue eyes, the color of which he had never seen anywhere else. It was... breathtaking, thrilling even, and he liked it.

Then, Hadrian spoke up for the first time, three small words of involvement in the conversation which saddened and angered the older man just as much as they satisfied him.

"I never did."

He had been talking about how he had enjoyed reading child stories when he had been able to sneak into the orphanage's poor library. And Hadrian's answer had been straight to the point: he had never had the occasion to even lay his hands on a child's book. Why, he never said. But Voldemort hoped that with time, he would talk about it, and allow them to bear a little of his burden, help him alleviate the terrible weight of the monstrous past his keepers -for there was no other words for them except for torturers, had inflicted upon him.

o-O-o

"Hadrian?"

The young man looked up from his book.

"My Lord." He greeted, standing to his feet.

The man gestured for him to sit back down, and put a thin folder on the table between them.

"The Black inheritance claiming papers." He merely said.

Hadrian nodded impassively and read them over before signing them. His signature, Voldemort noticed immediately, was very neat, elegant and stylish, even though he most likely never had had any reason to practice having a proper one, seeing as, had things gone the way his parents wanted it, he would never have made it until the day he could claim any inheritance, let alone take his place as a Lord. This, however, didn't make him miss the sudden hardening of the younger male's features when he had broached the subject of the Blacks, and he wondered what it was that upset him so, but couldn't for the life of him figure this out.

He inwardly promised himself he would investigate the matter. In the few weeks they had known each other, he had come to care quite deeply for the boy, something which had puzzled him at first, and which he had resisted, before understanding the reasons behind that attachment, and relenting. The boy, he knew, had had a horrid childhood, even more so than himself, and for that alone, he could relate to him, and found he felt some kind of kinship between them. The time, though, had yet to come when he would speak about it to the boy.

Hadrian wasn't ready yet. He hadn't opened up fully, and was still quite far from fully trusting anyone apart from Draco. The progress Voldemort had already made with him was astounding considering the fact he was male, an adult male, at that, and a figure of authority, three things James Potter had been. The young Malfoy, on the other hand, had the noticeable advantage that he was the same age, and held a very small amount of formal authority, making him far more accessible to the abused child.

He was torn from his thoughts by the young man's quiet stare, and saw that the papers were signed, and had been neatly put away in their folder.

"We need to go to Gringotts now, if you're available. It would be best to have this done and over with as soon as possible."

The young man merely nodded and stood, ready to follow. They walked out of the manor and towards the edge of the wards after warning Narcissa that Hadrian was leaving for a while, then stopped once they felt the anti-apparition barrier cease to weight over them. Voldemort turned to his young companion.

"I will apparate us both over to Diagon Alley, if you don't mind."

He waited, careful not to let the strange nervousness he couldn't help but feeling from showing on his face. He was, after all, the almighty Dark Lord, he didn't get anxious for such a small thing as side-along apparition.

Well, a small voice nagged at the back of his mind, that might have been, but it wasn't everyday you had to apparate an abused teenager who, given his level of knowledge, most likely knew how to do it by himself already, and was very likely to start screaming as soon as you touched him.

He ignored it and almost started when the younger man took a slow step towards him, blue eyes guarded as he stared at the hand he held out. He walked closer very slowly, and the Dark Lord made sure he stood very still, eyes never wavering from the frail figure coming ever closer to him.

Hadrian stopped about an inch or two away from him and froze, but he didn't move. The young man didn't look away from the hand. His body was as tense as a bowstring, his fists clenched at his side as he appeared to be fighting against himself not to run, and his lips pursed in concentration, eyes narrowed as he detailed the open palm and long fingers.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he slowly looked up, letting his eyes sweep over the Dark Lord's tall, toned body before settling on his face. Crimson eyes, a far cry from the angry hazel orbs he was so used to see, stared calmly back at him in a final testimony of what he already knew, but had the urging need to prove once more: that man was nothing like James Potter. The Ruler's hair was neat and dark brown instead of black, his body lean and tall where his abuser had been quite small for a man, and he had shown time and again that he wasn't interested in forcing him to do anything.

And so he waited, and...

o-O-o

To trust or not to trust?

That was the question, and Hadrian could only stand there, gazing at the Dark Lord' offered hand. This, he knew, would be a turning point for both him and Voldemort. Because right now, the man was giving him a very simple choice.

Before, every time someone touched him was to hurt him: James Potter either hit or raped him, and Lily wasn't any better, while Peter Pettigrew absolutely loved getting his fun too. His first months at Hogwarts had been true hell: people everywhere, bumping into him, touching him, talking and yelling, sometimes at him... He had barely managed to keep his panic to himself, and had actually slept in a dark corner for the two first years. The bed was too large, overly exposed, and soft and clean, something he wasn't used to. Something mistakes should never have.

But then, Draco, had waltzed into his life without so much as asking for permission, and started to touch him. It was almost nothing at first, a mere brushing of his clothes, getting a piece of paper or a twig out of his hair, then ruffling the black locks briefly, but he always kept his touch so light Hadrian barely noticed the gesture before it was over. And when the blonde had eventually found out his secret, he had showed him that it was in his interest to let himself be touched. The blonde could be very delicate when he wanted, and when he rubbed healing pastes and balms onto the open welts of his back and his multiple bruises, very careful.

But now, now he was confronted to a similar, yet different choice.

Lord Voldemort was the ruler of the Wizarding World. He was a grown man, an adult, one of those who abused him, a powerful figure of authority, and yet...

Yet, he was so far from anything else he'd ever known. Powerful but controlled, beautiful but lonely, elegant but soft-spoken. He was nothing like he, Hadrian, had ever known. He never pushed, never insisted, just let him take things at his own pace, and if he didn't want to speak, then he did all the talking.

Allowing him to touch him would be showing the man some trust. A lot of trust, in fact. Because it would then mean he trusted him with his body. He trusted him to keep him safe. And now he had to ask himself: did he?

Dark blue eyes met shining crimson as his gaze came to rest on Voldemort's handsome face, and he almost did a double-take at the deep glint that flashed through them. Looking more closely, he could see nothing but honesty on those defined features, and he remembered the hours the man had spent with him, either in the gardens, the library, the living room with a book, talking, reading, or merely sitting in companionable silence.

Voldemort was a busy man. He most likely had other things to do than spend time with the pathetic excuse of a wizard that Hadrian was.

And so Hadrian made his decision.

o-O-o

He could see the raging fight in those tortured navy blue eyes, self-preservation instinct against hope, fear of trusting and getting hurt, of defying all the principles he had had pounded in his head throughout all of his 'childhood' by experience and the angry voice of the people who were supposed to hold him tight instead of pounding on him with their fists and everything sharp or hard they could find.

So focused was he on the gorgeous face in front of him that he almost started when something brushed over his palm, retreated, brushed it again, once, twice... before settling onto it. He could feel the racing pulse at Hadrian's wrist, and the shaking of the small hand in his palm, before, very slowly, he closed his fingers over the slim hand and released the breath he hadn't even realized he had been holding.

Slowly, with a care he hadn't known he possessed, he slipped an arm around the waist of the now openly trembling teenager, and gently pulled him towards him, but not too close so as not to push him over the edge. This was already an immense step forward. He had no wish whatsoever to spoil the progress by being too hasty.

Laying a light hand on the dark black locks in an appeasing gesture, Lord Voldemort apparated over to Diagon Alley with Hadrian Black, future Head of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black.


Soooo, what did you think about it? I am aware that you may feel like the relationship is moving too quickly, but this is a short fic, so I'll be skipping time quite quickly. I'm trying to make it believable anyway.

I didn't proofread myself, I wanted to put the chapter online asap seeing as it's been two months since I published the first one, I hope there aren't too many mistakes, and if there are, tell me so I can correct them, thank you.

Reviews are to the author what milk is to a cat^^!