Screams echoed in the backdrop of his mind.
An infant, wailing, locked tight in a small and dark space. A little boy, dark hair and bright eyed, sitting in a dark corner and watching as a family ate while he fed upon meager scrapes. The first signs of magic, exposed within the first month of living with a muggle family. A man yelling at the infant for crying. There were countless memories locked in the muggle's mind, each more horrid than the next. Marvolo eyed the man, and turned his gaze towards his companions.
Lucius was behind him, the thin, dark-haired child soundly asleep in his arms. Magic rippled through the boy, lulling him deeper and deeper into a dreamless sleep. Caused by magic or not, it was needed. Narcissa and Draco stood next to the head of the Malfoy Clan, their gazes dark and dangerous. Murderous. The others were scattered about, wards rising in place to ensure the Ministry did not interfere should they...arrive before they had left.
His gaze shifted toward the whale's spouse, the woman thin and drawn. Petunia was still on the floor, her gaze on her hands, her fingers laced together in her lap. She had not looked up, not even when her husband began screaming from the mental intrusion. Now she looked, undoubtedly feeling his gaze boring into her. Thin. Pale. Eyes dark and grim.
"You knew, but did nothing." He approached her, and gestured to her husband. "Even as he cried, you did nothing. Is there no love between you two?"
"Perhaps there was, once upon a time..." Her voice was soft, withdrawn, and then she shook her head. "Not any longer..."
"Do not lie, Petunia." Marvolo's gaze shifted towards the Potions Master, at the dark, at the murderous, expression on his face. At the venom in his voice. "You never loved him. You never loved Lily -"
"I loved my sister!" Petunia was on her feet in a matter of seconds, eyes ablaze. "Lily was everything to me! But you...you and your kind took her away!"
Marvolo glanced between the two. Vernon's memories lurked in the backdrop of his mind. His marriage to this woman, when they were young. She had readily agreed to marry the man, despite the obvious dislike she held. It was something akin to an arranged marriage. Expect that it wasn't. There was a story here, dark and desperate and filled with resentment. With hopelessness.
From the memories he had viewed, not once had she laid a hand on either child. Scolded them, certainly. But never harm. Never abuse.
"The muggle world was not meant for her, Petunia." Marvolo blinked, and turned his gaze back to the conversation at hand as Severus stepped closer to the woman. There was a tension, so thick it could be cut easily. "Those with magic cannot reside with those lacking it."
Petunia Dursley nee Evans trembled, strands of hair loose and framing her face. "Then why couldn't I have gone to her world?"
Marvolo frowned.
He exchanged looks with the others, a sense of understanding rising within. His gaze shifted back to the woman as he asked, "Had you not asked?"
"I did ask!" She whirled around on him, eyes ablaze. "I wrote to that blasted man, and asked to stay with my sister. When he said I couldn't, I asked if I could come and visit her. Again, he said it wasn't possible..."
Lies. Marvolo's gaze narrowed. Years ago, Severus pleaded for Lily's life. He presented the offer. She declined. For her son's behalf. Dumbledore's reach went far, regardless of all that occurred. Potter, sleeping soundly, while he did bait his family, was so very protective. He recalled his rebirth, his second entrance into the world. The Hufflepuff boy, and the way he had died. How Potter had tried to save his friend. A trait passed on, undoubtedly.
"You were jealous of her..." Severus's voice was soft. A forewarning of approaching danger. Marvolo observed the Potions Master, and then his gaze slid back to the woman in question. His eyes closed. Across from him, he heard her voice, broken and lost, mutter, "I was jealous that she was able to leave this hell while I was forced to remain. I was jealous she was able to find a better life after our family died."
Understanding. Marvolo opened his gaze, and raised his wand.
Petunia Dursley nee Evans slumped to the ground, unconscious, oblivious to the chaos that reigned in the wake of his fury.
Vernon Dursley perished that night, and his wife and son disappeared. Both gone without a trace.
000
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Not him! Not Hadrian! His mother's desperate pleads filled his mind as he drifted in a world between wakefulness and true sleep. Take me! Please. Please, not my Hadrian!
As he stirred, he felt softness. Sheets, warm and pristine, under his hands. Clothing, soft and flowing, on his skin. His eyes opened, the world blurring as he sat up and looked around his surroundings. A room. Large. A bed with a canopy. Large windows. Lots of light. Not Privet Drive. He could sense Voldemort somewhere close, his magic a steady hum of power. Hadrian frowned, mind ablaze.
What had happened?
Images. His uncle's rage. The stinging pain as he was backhanded. The stove catching fire. The kitchen exploding. Voldemort. The couch. Greyback reliving himself in his backyard for some inane reason he couldn't quite grasp. A laughing Bellatrix. Draco and Snape and Malfoy and Lady Malfoy. And then Voldemort again, a spell slamming into him and drawing him into the darkness of a dreamless sleep.
The Dark Lord had knocked him unconscious!
"Uncool." He muttered as he stood, grimacing as the world sway. "So fucking uncool. Seriously? Hit on me first, and then knock me out? What is wrong with these people?"
"Talking to yourself is the first signs of insanity, Harry." Hadrian whirled around, spitting with anger, as his magic lashed outward. A hand caught his forearm, whipped him around, and hauled him close as the teen snapped, "My. Name. Is. Hadrian. Merlindamnit! Not Harry. And let go, you fucking pedo!"
"Pedo?" A shocked laugh came from the Dark Lord, a sound deep and altogether unexpected. Hadrian's eyes widened as a dark glint entered those red eyes, and, within moments, he was backed up towards the bed. Riddle leaned in, a dark gleam in his gaze as he said, "Trust me, Hadrian, if that was my intention, I would not be so subtle."
The man's voice was soft, low, and Hadrian squeaked as that slender hand caressed the side of his neck. Long fingers brushed his skin as wine red eyes filled his vision, a warm breath misting across his lips. Close...he was so close! Swallowing, he tried to ease away. The edge of the bed hit the back of his knees, and he nearly fell. Voldemort, still holding onto him, smirked. "But, as it is, you have a great deal to learn before I tear into your body and magic. Business first, my little Lion. Pleasure can wait until -"
"Back the fuck up!" Hadrian jerked away, magic lashing outward and slamming into the wizard holding him. He darted around the bed, ignoring Voldemort's deep laughter. He was out the door, and halfway down the hall, when Malfoy, the elder of the two, caught hold of him. "And where do you think you're going, Mr. Potter? Last I checked, my wife has not given you leave from your bed. Let alone your room."
"No!" Hadrian struggled. "Do not put me back in that room with a pedo! You damn prissy peacock, put me down!"
As Lucius manhandled one Hadrian Potter into the room he had just escaped, a floor down sat Dudley and Draco. Both boys watched, with various signs of baffled amusement and confusion, as the youngest person in the manor shrieked. The resounding explosion of magic shook the manor, the chandelier letting out soft, musical notes as it swung madly in its place, and both boys grimaced.
Narsissa, sipping at her tea with a nervous, fidgeting Petunia across from her, sighed. She set her cup down, and rose from her seat.
"And here I hoped the tension would ease. It would seem that I was mistaken."
