...
"Why are you here?" Hadrian spoke, after a minute of silence.
The silence wasn't deafening, it was comfortable. He had once again almost lost himself to the view that passed outside the compartment window. It was a series of lakes with hilly crowns, like the hoof prints of some celestial horse. He lifted his head off his hand and moved his gaze away from the window.
Malfoy didn't know what Hadrian found so intriguing at what flickered past the train window, they were moving too fast to be able to really notice anything substantial.
"Why is everyone here?" Hadrian repeated, this time louder and more commanding than the first. Blaise snorted in amusement by Hadrian's lack of propriety. Hadrian was habitually temperamental and today seemed like one of those days.
"Fuck. You really are in a bad mood. Yo, Mason, he's in a bad mood," Theo yelled to outside of the compartment, his young face smirking, his eyes were full of buoyant certainty.
Daphne bit the edge of a smile, capturing her folded lips between her teeth, a vain attempt to keep her creeping grin at bay. Her eyes sparkled like storm clouds right before lightning hit; swirls of grey and blue threatened floods of riotous hysterics.
Outside the compartment there was a rumble of deep unrestrained laughter. It wasn't particularly loud, yet it reverberated through the train like rolling thunder. It wasn't mocking, neither was it particularly innocent. It's inflection was warm baritone, representing good humour and undeniable loyalty. The compartment door rolled open.
The expectant faces of those in the carriage morphed into surprise when finding no one standing there.
Hadrian glanced down to find the large form of Mason Villenti, lying casually on the corridor floor. Six foot, three inches, of solid uncultivated muscle, Mason was much like Blaise, both with a physical build similar of an Ancient Warrior. However, as Mason stood, to the amused faces that sat in the compartment, it was easy to notice the differences between Blaise Zabini and Mason Villenti.
Blaise Zabini's pureblood status was the dividing factor between the two boys. Mason Villenti, held no social authority within the Wizarding society, and not because he was a halfblood status. It was the unavoidable fact that his mother was a muggle.
A primary school teacher, to be specific.
Whilst, Blaise's appearance screamed, opulence and smooth edges, Mason was rougher, presenting a kind of wilderness. Like running barefoot through a forbidden forest.
It was the perfect visual representation of what money could do for an individual. Yet it also portrays it's oppressive restrictions in the freedom to become whatever and whoever you want.
"What's up kids." Mason Villenti spoke unceremoniously, his eyes lit up in partially smothered amusement. They were the colour of autumnal forest cedar, earthen brown in a way that brings to mind old sepia photographs. He was addressing the entire compartment however his amused gaze was locked onto Hadrian's smirking form.
"Where is Jared?" Daphne asked, her eyebrows drawn together in apparent curiosity, as she flicked her long dark hair over her slender shoulders.
"Why... am I not good enough?" Mason smirked, taking a seat on the end of the bench. He crossed his ankles, one large boot over the other, lounging back comfortably with his hands behind his head.
It would have been cocky if not for it being the only way for his large form to fit comfortably.
Hadrian looked across at him amused, his mouth was twitching to smile. His sudden cheerfulness didn't last long, the family reunion that was too come, marred his happiness. His annoyed sigh said it all.
"No need to get so cold and angry with us. Just because you're going back-" Theo uttered, speaking fast. He had leant forward, one elbow rested on his knee while his face was positioned directly above it, leaning in. He was like a predator ready to strike, with the utter of an insult rather than a physical assault.
The usually immature yet kind boy had revealed a darker side of himself.
He was smile was belittling as he revelled in his artful game. His face usually open and relaxed, was now tense and mocking. His handsomeness fled and in its place was a picture of snarling contempt which rearranged his features and rid him of his decency.
"Nott!" Daphne hissed irritably, cutting him off, her glossy eyes wide with outrage. Theo froze at being reprimanded, his face was wide with shock with the realisation at what he had momentarily become, his previous spiteful focus was now long gone.
Hadrian Potter stared at Theo Nott with a combination of soft calculation and jubilant satisfaction.
Alec Morti was the first to realise the absence of anger in Hadrian's gaze. That was not to say, his arctic eyes were not critical, because nowadays that was a given.
Theo Nott knew well, what Hadrian Potter's anger could really do.
It would happen as suddenly as sudden death. Hadrian's bountiful sentiments would vanish, his ability for sympathy and emotional generosity would disappear along with it. It didn't matter that his fists would stay firmly by his sides, they all knew his words did more damage than any physical assault ever could.
Despite the contemptuous comment, Hadrian seemed pleased with Theo and Draco Malfoy knew why. Hadrian Potter loved evolution. The prospect that something could become more than its original form.
Theo cleared his throat guiltily as he eventually turned away from the collection of shocked faces. The guilt of what he could become was an anchor around his neck, pulling him deep into the brine. Hadrian's gaze was far too insightful and far too prominent, it saw right through him.
Theo rolled his neck in his shoulders, as if to remove the sickening feeling of pungent shame that coated his skin.
Hadrian settled his face into a vision of soft serenity, he acknowledged how Theo's guilt was self deprecating and overly critical, it needn't be.
"It's not always a bad thing to be bad." Hadrian thought profoundly.
"Anyway." Malfoy spoke, after a moment of soundless silence. His voice was light and his grey eyes rolled comically as if dealing with a group of children.
"Hadrian, my father has invited you to my families annual Summer party." Malfoy continued, uttering quickly. It was almost as if the statement was poison and if left resting, would putrefy his mind.
Hadrian's gaze moved away from the window once more, the countryside had now become more suburban. He could see brick buildings that made up small towns. The houses were identical, with their small upper windows, narrow porches and square bays. They reminded him vaguely of his Aunt's house, row upon row of mundane houses for mundane people.
The concept made him feel generally nauseous. The idea that people could be so normal, so dull. They didn't stand out from the crowd they just blended in, conforming to the everyday. The most worrying part of all, was the fact that they were completely and utterly content.
Hadrian felt the compelling need to roll his eyes, when hearing Draco's comment about family celebrations. He couldn't stop thinking about the reunion that was to come, it would be all false smiles and sickening grandeur.
Every year without failure, Lily Potter, threw a lavish summer party, where there were cocktails by the pool and canapés in the garden. Hadrian believed it was an tactless attempt to outshine the Malfoy's, whom were known for their exquisite summer get-togethers.
Last year, Hadrian did not attend his families social function, in actual fact he never went home at all.
If he wasn't partying at Draco's, with the rest of Slytherin house, he was training at Alec's. He had received no letter of invitation nor any communication from his parents for the entirety of that year. He was thankful at the time, hoping that they may have finally forgotten about him altogether.
This year, however, was different. He suspected Dumbledore's influence the moment he had received his parents letter during the first month back at Hogwarts in his fourth year. It was filled with undercurrents of parental concern yet bled with inquisitive suspicion.
This was the apex. The pinnacle point in his life where everything changed.
Hate was the devil's path and its ash-strewn surface should be left without a single footprint. There is always the temptation to walk on it; there is a platter of logical and compelling reasons, ones that boost the ego and frame false-heroes. There is no prize worth the corruption of ones soul; hate brings only pain and cycles of destruction upon all.
Yet. His hate consumed him and he let it.