Later than I wanted, but here it is! I loved everyone's responses to the last chapter, though I won't apologize for the cliffhanger. So, thanks again for reading, reviewing, adding... and whatever else you all are doing in support of this story.

There is a dream/memory sequence in this chapter that is separated by lines and written in italics. Hopefully, this will keep you guys from complete confusion.

Chapter 9

Hadrian awoke to a bright light in his eyes. Opening his eyes, he recognized the clean gray ceiling and beams of his own bedroom. He tried to sit up, but he was immediately restrained by a hand on his shoulder.

"Remain where you are," an all-too-familiar, silky voice instructed. "You're too weak to sit up as of yet."

"Should I even ask what happened?" Hadrian whispered. His voice was small and raspy, and he hated it. He sounded weak.

His father chuckled. "You didn't keep control of yourself, Hadrian. Casting spells like the one you used in such a highly emotional state exhausted your magical core. If I hadn't stopped that spell, you might have killed yourself. You've been unconscious for almost twenty hours while your body rested, and I daresay you're still weak."

Hadrian shut his eyes tightly against the bright light and tried to relax into the pillow. It made him uncomfortable, knowing he'd come so close to death in a split second of anger. He knew his father was telling the truth; magical core exhaustion was a very serious problem, especially for wizards and witches who cast raw, powerful Dark Arts spells like the curse he'd cast.

Crucio. Doleo. Both dark magic, both remarkably powerful. Both spells he had promised himself not to use after swearing off the Dark Arts. Hell, what had he been thinking? He hadn't thought, he realized. He'd allowed himself to spiral out of control. Everything he'd ever worked for could have gone to hell in that second. He suddenly felt shaken, and he didn't like it.

He felt a cool touch on his face and looked to find pale fingers stroking his cheek. "Don't touch me," he rasped, with not nearly as much vehemence as he would've liked.

He received a cold chuckle in response as the fingers moved slowly up to his forehead, brushing back his bangs.

"I will do whatever I please, Hadrian. You know that."

"Well, then, could it please you to leave me the bloody hell alone?"

"Language, Hadrian," was the silky reply. The fingers worked their way into his hair. "That flippant tongue of yours must have come from your mother."

"Along with my complete lack of boot-licking ability, I'm sure."

Cold fingers turned his chin toward his father's face. "Count yourself lucky that you are indisposed. I would not tolerate your cheek otherwise."

Hadrian, wisely, said nothing, and the fingers that had gripped his face returned to carding slowly through his hair.

"What makes you think that I am so eager to see you die?" his father asked suddenly.

Hadrian remained silent.

"You related yourself to an animal raised for slaughter. Don't you think that's a rather extreme comparison?"

"Not at all." Hadrian shifted in bed, trying to ignore the fingers trailing across his scalp.

"Hmm. You know, Hadrian, the animals raised for slaughter aren't brought up in the family house. And, should they place themselves in a dangerous situation, no allowances are made to rescue them. Among a herd, what is the significance of one lost animal compared to the many?"

Again, Hadrian said nothing.

"Do you really believe that you are of such little value?"

"Is this metaphor going somewhere?" Hadrian asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Consider my words, Hadrian. I do not make such effort to save just anyone." The hand withdrew from his hair, and the Dark Lord turned and left the room.

Hadrian huffed and burrowed into the covers, already feeling tired again. Within minutes, he had drifted off.


"Excellent work, boys!" the tutor, a young man they had been instructed to call Anthony, said. "Most children your age wouldn't even be focused enough to do wandwork yet."

"That's because they're not the Dark Lord's children," an eight-year-old Domitian replied haughtily while directing the quill he was levitating to float higher.

"Not that it didn't take you three days longer than me to learn it," Hadrian muttered, flipping through his spellbook. "I'm bored. I want to try this."

"Hadrian," Anthony scolded, "We won't cover that spell for almost a year yet. It would be better to stick to the spells more towards the front of the book. Why don't we try the levitation charm once more, and then move on to something else."

"An excellent idea, Pierce."

"My Lord!" Anthony whirled and fell to his knees before the Dark Lord, who had suddenly appeared in the library, flanked by Lucius Malfoy.

Domitian eagerly rose from his seat. "Father! Have you come to watch us practice?"

"Only for a moment," the Dark Lord replied, crossing his arms. "Pierce, get up and continue with your lesson."

"Of course, my Lord," Anthony replied. "Well, Domitian, would you like to demonstrate the charm you just learned?"

Domitian nodded calmly, remembering his training and trying not to look too excited. "Wingardium Leviosa," he pronounced, causing the quill to once again float into the air and hover a few feet above the desk.

"Well done, Domitian," the Dark Lord said, causing his older son to flush red and grin.

The moment was interrupted by Anthony, who had fallen to his knees and was howling with laughter.

"Do you find something funny, Pierce?" Lucius Malfoy spoke up. Pierce, still laughing so hard his face was turning red, shook his head frantically.

The Dark Lord, looking around at his other son, found Hadrian sitting perfectly still at his desk, covering his mouth with one hand.

With a flick of the Dark Lord's wand, Anthony was released from the charm and collapsed to the floor, breathing deeply. "I apologize...my Lord," he said. "I told Hadrian...not to skip...ahead. He"

"That will be all, Pierce," the Dark Lord interrupted. "I expect them to be finished with this and the next chapter by next week."

"Of course, my Lord," Pierce answered, but the Dark Lord and Lucius were already walking out the door without another word.


The next time Hadrian woke, he was alone. He looked around his room, guessing from the slant of the shadows that it was sometime in the late evening.

Where had that stupid dream come from? Well, it was more a memory than a dream, Hadrian conceded. As if he wanted to remember his stupid school lessons, when he had done all the best work, and Domitian had gotten all the coveted praises.

Shaking the dream out of his head, Hadrian was thankful to find that it wasn't difficult to sit up, though doing so left him a bit dizzy. He leaned back against his pillows and picked the tray of food that someone, most likely a house elf, had left for him on the bedside table. The tray disappeared as soon as he had finished, and he leaned back and relished the quiet solitude that he felt couldn't last much longer.

Sure enough, someone opened his door not ten minutes later.

"Good. You're awake."

"Severus?" he asked, looking tiredly in his teacher's general direction.

"How are you feeling?" It was a casual question, but Hadrian knew that Severus cared more about the answer than he would ever admit.

"Fine, I s'pose," he replied. "So you know what happened?"

"All of the inner circle knows what happened, although I doubt it has gone beyond us. Your father specified that it was to be kept quiet."

Hadrian snorted. "Yeah. I don't suppose he'd want the whole army knowing that Domitian is practically a squib. Does your being here mean I still have to have tutoring today?"

Severus rolled his eyes to heaven, but answered the question. "No, your lessons are suspended until three days from now, when the healer has assured the Dark Lord that you will be back at full strength."

The dark-haired man sat on the corner of the bed before Hadrian spoke again.

"What do you think he wants, Severus?"

His tutor frowned. "Your father?"

Hadrian raised an eyebrow. "Of course, my father. Who else?"

"I don't know, Hadrian. He hasn't told any of us what his plans are for you or your brother."

"Why would he punish me like this, though? The entire situation is just so ridiculous. I mean, he went from not giving a shit what I did to monitoring all of my behavior in two seconds flat. And this obsession with getting me back into the Dark Arts...what's the point, if he's just going to kill me later?"

"Perhaps he's not going to kill you."

"He suggested as much to me this morning. But if he doesn't, what is he going to do with me? Everyone knows Domitian is the Heir, we might as well paint it on the walls. And Lucius told us that whoever wasn't the Heir would be killed. Everything I've done since I was eight was centered around the fact that, one day, one of us will sit on a throne next to our father, and the other one will be dead. Now I don't know what to do, and it's all his fault."

"Your father's?"

"He's the one who made me so angry in the first place," Hadrian explained. "This whole week I've been trying to behave and stay under the radar so he'll let me go, and then he throws this stupid duel at me. Damn it, I had everything figured out until he decided to make everything so bloody complicated!"

"Your language leaves something to be desired, Hadrian," Severus said with a small smirk.

"Oh, Salazar! Not you as well," Hadrian complained, but he allowed himself a small smile as well. Severus's inexplicable ability to calm him was working its power once again.

"I wish my mother was here, you know?" Hadrian said quietly to his tutor. "I should have had more time with her. That's my father's fault, too."

"Not entirely."

Hadrian frowned. "What do you mean? He ordered her dead."

"He did," Severus agreed, "but not on a whim."

The teen snorted. "Of course not. He never does anything on a whim."

"Hadrian, your mother..." Severus's pursed lips and furrowed brow were unfamiliar to Hadrian; the man almost never struggled for words.

"Yes?"

Severus sighed. "Perhaps this is a conversation that, dare I say, would be best held with your father."

"You want me to ask my father about killing my mum?" Hadrian asked. "No way. No way in hell."

"Suit yourself, Hadrian. But I believe you would want to know what he has to say."

"If he'd actually say anything."

"Consider it, Hadrian. If anything, at least you'll know." With that, Severus left.

It was the second time that day that Hadrian had been told to consider something. Instead, he promptly fell asleep for a second time and, this time, dreamed no dreams.