Disclaimer- An attempt to put right to an otherwise awesome story of J.K. Rowling. Seriously, how did they ever keep these two apart?
This chapter has been beta'ed by this incredible and kind and awesome person. Let's all give a round of applause to Lord Mushie who saved me when I was more or less floating in another world. And also saved this fic from being delayed another fortnight.
Chapter 9: I Waited For You, For That Touch Alchemy
Wilfred Rosier was an anomaly among the pureblood society. For all his rather untamed behavior, however, none could deny that he did not observe the proper tradition when it was called for and his charming mouth had smoothened over many frowning brows. In fact, in the primary assemble under the heir of Slytherin, his lip had more often than not brought amusement when his companions would shy from what they called a Gryffindor mouth.
Wilfred had laughed at them, not deigning to remind them the color adorning the lining of his robes. Hadn't reminded them that it was him, who was one of the very few favored of the heir of Slytherin, who had been powerful by his own right to deserve that envied position and had never stepped out of his bounds, instead heeding the warning in that seductive magic.
He had never truly cared for the Lordship position, but it had vexed him still when his older brother would be preferred over him whenever it had come to be the person of significance.
He sank down upon one knee; head bowed in true reverence of his chosen master, "My Lord."
"Wilfred." The deceptively light tone was almost beguiling and were it not for the magic that coiled around his body with a malicious eagerness, he might have relaxed at the cordial greeting. The Dark Lord could hardly be ever comprehended, the shimmering fury no less frightening than the undisturbed rage.
The middle son of the house of Rosier was a Slytherin, as such the self-preservation should have prevailed. Whereas his older brother was favored for being the heir apparent, for the power he would inherit soon; Wilfred surprised dismissive persons with his quick charm and sharp wit. Perhaps this one with Rowena's blessing had been infected with arrogance still, to be interested in challenging his mental aptitude.
Perhaps it was the arrogance that had led to inviting the attention of the powerful Dark Wizard, but Wilfred had not bowed down to the incessant pressure to prove himself- to maintain his status quo in the house. Even more so, his eyes would linger for awhile before dropping in submission.
There might have been some truth in what his peers had once thought, but he had proved his worth still and his heart swelled with pride as he took his position beside this powerful Dark Lord, whose magic he could feel to be lingering near the bookcase; the dark aura turned its attention upon him and Wilfred bade the unspoken demand.
A single scarf of parchment was placed upon the ebony dark table.
"This report looks rather lacking, doesn't it?"
It did not happen often, the fear of failure a terrible epiphany instead of a disappointment; an indication of a terrible mood of the Dark Lord. Barely a glimpse had been spared before the parchment was put upon the desk sparing him of immediate fury almost gently.
The pale yet classically handsome face rested upon long knuckles of a balanced hand, tilted slightly. The reflection of patience everlasting.
Wilfred felt as if a weight had settled down his throat, the thread of his life tied to the glibness of his tongue.
"Forgive me, My Lord. I am entirely positive that this is basically all the information the ministry has about Wizarding establishment."
Brave, but foolish enough to cling to his own beliefs rather than bow to the unflinching magic pressing down his neck. No matter how detached the Dark Lord might have been with the newer initiates, no matter how much his magic urged obedience, the closest confidants had enjoyed the novelty of being more than the first Knights of his cause.
Even so, Rosier remained wary of the mercurial Dark Lord of late.
Contrary to his belief, his master's wand did not maim the fool.
"So, it is the ministry who seems to have the incomplete information. Is it?"
Even pleasantly spell-cooled, the room with open archways did not relent with its heavy atmosphere, "I lifted it directly off of the ministry archive, My Lord."
"I do not fault your efforts; I suppose I expected more from our esteemed administration."
The pale brows of Rosier furrowed in contemplation, hardly off his guard but involved, "May I ask, My Lord, how are you so certain?"
The Dark Lord looked down at him in amusement, "Brave, are you not, Wilfred? I have come across a place, a purely Wizarding settlement, uncorrupted by muggle influences and yet now I seem to find its name nowhere near Ministry knowledge. How curious."
His Lord had gotten up at some point and for an indulgent moment, Rosier allowed himself to think about when his Lord had been but an heir apparent, of a warm fireplace in the Slytherin common room when his impatience had been visible to his peers beyond the polite mask.
When once they could have perhaps claimed their Lord as a human still.
He respected his Lord, yes, feared and was in awe of him. But, Rosier loved him as well and the affection surged unexpectedly at the nostalgic reminder.
"The Ministry of Magic or even the preceding Wizarding Council had been established with the sole focus of conforming to the Statute of Secrecy after all. At that time for us, purebloods, such separation had become necessary, not just desired. People like Wendelin were the exception, those who delight in venturing out to the muggle world and make a fool out of themselves. It would have been successful as well if it were not for the continuous stream of mudbloods and the blood traitors who delighted in taking in muggles like pets." Rosier would have built up to an enraged rant, but a sharp glance in his direction from the exasperated Dark Lord had him clearing his throat instead," What I mean is that after the initial…rapport, the minds were divided when the ministry laws stopped being entertaining and started to intrude.My grandfather rants well enough about a government that dares control us. So maybe wizards of similar mindset didn't bother to affiliate with the ministry, magical that chose to remain unconcerned because they were not breaking the Statue anyway with their isolation." He paused before swallowing the curious words threatening his common sense.
But the Knights held higher favor than any had ever known, and through fear it was genuine desire to assist his Lord that asked the question," Has it caught your notice, My Lord?"
Because he was truly curious, considering the Dark Lord had prohibited any foolish games with muggles at the moment, instead all attention was being spared towards infiltration and recruitment. Because their Master had issued the command to not to bring the attention yet…instead, whispers trailed in the Darker shades of Wizarding alleys and the shadows of night strengthened still. But the commencement was delayed.
The scarlet eyes had understood his inner confusion, however. For the first time since he had known the Dark Lord, Rosier watched an emotion unnamed hood the striking features and the wizard lingered by the Runic section of the library before speaking in a muted tone.
"It is no matter to be concerned by the death eaters. Merely a personal project of mine."
-t-h-t
His magic was quivering with a cavernous hunger, to decimate and triumph, but the Dark Lord did not heed the insistent press of the Darkness that lingered in the vicinity of his affront perceived; his vision was consumed instead by the clouded shades of enchanting green, the exotic gaze of an equally confounding creature. Had he wondered, perhaps once or twice (many times) of the thrall this unknown being wrecked upon his occluded mind, upon his very soul no matter that it had been shredded so mercilessly to be a mere mockery of humanity. He had sometimes to the shimmering ire of his, acknowledged the absolute irrationality with which his senses were ensnared in presence of this person, to such extent as to devote time often lost, time that could have been spared for the foundation of his empire, and efforts that were instead rebuked with derision.
Perhaps moments of lucidity to hours of insanity, within which Marvolo was capable of observing the absurdity of his behavior in a detached manner.
He had wondered at a possible duplicity. And yet, for consequences that could have been of an illusory lattice meant to derail his very being, the Dark Lord felt rejuvenated like none but precious few of his treasures could offer.
For, in the end, it was this creature, knowing and yet ever so innocent, who remained in the eye of the storm, unaffected so long as the intent of a Dark Wizard shifted not far from favorable.
He had perhaps felt the disgust and wondered once or twice(many times) to be rid of this lovely distraction, to let his mind be detangled from this enchantment and should it not be alarming already, that a great mind such as his, was so very susceptible to this slip of a person. He had thus thought of letting the ties of this disastrous creature be severed before his feet carried of their own volition to the edge of the fathomless cavern.
But the coherent thoughts had lingered for mere a moment before his soul had screeched in protest violently, as it had opposed to be harshly torn from being; the agony that the Dark Lord had inflicted upon himself into the very soul in pursuit of immortality would have shattered any human, and it had been the powerful will of the wizard thus capable of withstanding the pleading of a tortured soul. He had torn his soul without the slightest regret; unheeding of the pleading cries.
However, when it came to this lovely little thing, with a mind hardly motivated to approve reason and a soul as adamantly non-cooperative, how could such thoughts be deemed acceptable?
The beastly need to possess this absolute treasure, that devoured his sanity with a smothering spell was not appeased either, growing into a terrifying proportion to annihilate all and more.
Even within those wrathful moments, moments where the lovely one incited his tolerance so, where he had craved the blood in his mouth, been taken with the urge to taste the blood so proudly the little angel had claimed to be tainted, to discard and abandon one no more worthy, a sliver of awareness had restrained his impetuous action.
Because to release the leash upon an untamed creature, even for that tempestuous moment, would be all that fleet-footed beauty would need to arm itself and flee far, farther than even the shadows a vindictive Dark Lord could claim.
And the mere possibility had effectively marred any of his understated fury, a forceful shower of cold knowledge upon fiendish rage.
Now at this moment, as the divine vision stood with its enviable gaze fixated solely upon him, the lithe figure only the beloved art of a creator as enchanted with its creation, Marvolo could hardly regard such an impossibility anymore viable.
Patience had never been virtue he could ever boast of, even more so when he had been denied his most desired treasure for so long a time.
He moved to take a step, but the defensive magic-enforced itself almost to a corporeal form, the lightest shimmer of a shield denying him of satiating his irrepressible need. The air breathed laboriously, as the magic with a deceptively airy feel coalesced and strengthened to permit no trespasser and his ever loyal magic soared once again to viciously tear, wrench this purity that offended thus to his superiority.
But the Dark Magic, however ardent to protest his honor, had no more permission to act by the Dark Wizard and Marvolo would not take a step, literal or metaphorical, to encourage any more distance between them.
He waited, approbating neither defense nor offense but the acceptance of a slighted beauty.
Instead, he kept his eyes unwaveringly upon the anguish filled lovely shadows, the torment equally scathing in his soul, until the flare of wandless magic dissipated slowly, the presence fading away as if to nothingness and yet remaining observant to defend its wizard he was sure.
The weather was grumbling sullenly, and the hint of refreshed earth permeated the air. In the edge of this Aspen Grove the stillness broke periodically by the gentlest breeze stirring, and cries of predatory animals. For him, however, the senses were dominated by only one being and Marvolo resisted the urge to apparate to the side of his creature directly.
His strides were low, the little creature seemingly neither receptive nor accusative, until he was close enough.
To touch, to affirm, to know.
Long fingers rose with the trembling need trailing in his veins, to trace the perfection. The still frame watched him with careful breaths, but Marvolo kept his magic from attacking what it deemed to be an unacceptable offense to the Dark Lord.
The cruel fingers, that far too often indulged in blank inked misery they could inflict, were overwhelmed with the need to caress those lovely features so adoringly ingrained in his thoughts, to let them be so tainted by veins of his own darkness through touch alone.
It was not simply a sole desire, to worship this being of perfection, which must be satisfied. It was not only the lore of malicious claim, of a cruel monster pacing in his rigidly carved control, and all the more exacerbated by such sweet innocence. Or even the heavy intrigue, which the young wizard inflamed with such a powerful, yet leashed magic; for each factor were individually capable of making this creature a sweet promise to the dark wizard.
In its entirety, the wretchedly chaotic mess held his soul unpardonably captive, perhaps as a weakness, or maybe a threat; surely none that would augur well for the solitary creature's destiny in the grasp of Marvolo.
And surely, for all the wise and prudent, it would imply such a terrible fate to be endured by an innocent, to be the most treasured of a Dark Lord, and no more. The venerated beauty that Lord Voldemort would cherish, to be protected and beloved and no more. To be donned as the loveliest jewel in his dominion, and no more.
To be loveliest in the kingdom, and shine no more, for a soul could no more survive such false affection.
Yet, such a future that could have been, would no more come to pass, not the least when the Dark Lord had seen the knowledge tremor in the luminous pools of verdant; for all that he had thought to be the one to have corroded the lovely one's defenses, it had not been so after all.
How could he have won the war, when the intended had been anticipating him already, when it knew the consequences of failure already? Even more, when it was absolutely capable of sufficient defense already?
Because Hadrian had truly granted him entrance to his life, and all that had tolerated the overtures of an ambitious Dark Wizard had been the kindness of a compassionate heart.
Because the seemingly fragile creature could very well have let an array of magic be the veil to spare it of his touch. Because he had been permitted to wander thus far into the land of this taciturn person, trusted even as Marvolo had been entirely callous with his behavior thus far.
Hadrian could have been all the more resentful and yet he had tolerated the irreverence. Marvolo had been an exception after all, not as sweet syllables from that pretty mouth would have demurred, but an exception nonetheless.
It would not be enough.
But Marvolo would acknowledge the favors he had been blessed with no matter.
And so, with avarice corroding the control, long fingers reached out excruciatingly slow, his observant features letting the choice, to deny or stand, be with the creature, and let it trail upon skin far warmer than his. Disbelieving knuckles brushed down to lie upon the stubborn jaw and green eyes fluttered at the gentleness.
"You look as lovely as I remember you, but such exhaustion was not present last time."
Indeed his angel was paler than ever, dark circles underlining the brilliant, if tired looking eyes. Eyes that were previously hooded with emotion, but at this moment glowered at him for his observation, annoyance that only painted his treasured golden.
Marvolo traced the hints of ill-health in the beautiful face discontentedly, before Hadrian turned away.
"It is alright, nothing life-threatening."
"I do hope you wouldn't let it go that far either."
In contrast to his nonchalant comment, Marvolo carefully noted the aversive gesture and uneasiness stirred at this careless gesture of his most cherished.
Hadrian sighed in resignation," It is nothing really. My work is getting really complicated. That is all."
"And here I had hoped, it was my absence you suffered from." Marvolo gave him no more opportunity to retort however and instead reached into the fold of a pocket," Speaking of work, I have something for you."
Hadrian was surprised momentarily, ascertained by wide eyes, and Marvolo enlarged the shrunken packet with a murmur.
"I have only removed the shrinking charm, the feather-light still holds. I know you might be frustrated by the complex runes book I bought you." Marvolo shushed the embarrassed protests of the younger wizard," They are rare ones, and I intended for you to have them. However, the fundamental books that you would need, took some time to gather."
Hadrian accepted the miniature gift-wrapped box tentatively, and Marvolo refrained from telling him the truth. That no matter the purchases from the Nürn Library were unparalleled, he was not satisfied at all. He had not been able to stifle the urge to let presents, wrapped with a personal notation, be given to his cherished one, and he had not understood why the priceless purchases had been unable to quench, whereas he was more appeased by the personal tomes that had been pursued thoroughly by him before, which were singularly marked as his belonging. But he spoke none of it, even if Hadrian would realize it anyhow, the moment it would be unsealed in the privacy of his home.
Perhaps the first of many gifts of appropriate bribery to soothe the hurt he had caused this being of radiance.
Perhaps to soothe this need of his that he could not yet understand.
Marvolo discarded such thoughts and called Hadrian's attention with a long-fingered grasp encircling a small wrist.
"Put them away, I have somewhere I wish for us to go."
Hadrian frowned before complying and Marvolo chose not to notice.
"Tell me, Hadrian, do you ride?"
He smirked at the look of utter incomprehension.
-t-h-t
Let this moment be forever guarded most preciously in the ever endless time and space, this embodiment of unsurpassed beauty, as treasured as it would be in the heart of an enthralled Dark Wizard.
For he was beautiful, this creature of exquisite magnificence, even more so in its childish delight as the Abraxan soared high with reckless abandonment, spurred by the enthused joy of its lovely rider and Marvolo was captivated by the sound of such enchanting laughter resonating in the clouds.
He shone pure and unbearably lovely upon the mythical Abraxan, as divine as the Goddess to whisper the shimmer of dews onto a slumbering earth. Delight lit brilliantly shaded green, the aftermath of fresh rain upon lush green and Marvolo curled his fist as if to strangle the need to simply reach out to this lovely thing and utterly devour all that was offered however unconsciously.
Hadrian smiled at him perhaps with gratitude for delivering this present, perhaps the thrilling joy still reflected from the dazzling green beyond dark lashes.
And the world might well have fallen numb to stupefied adoration, as had the untouched heart of a dark lord, as had the vile monster momentarily petrified by the stunning sight. And Hadrian danced happily in the air, unaware of the Dark Lord frozen stiff upon his pliant ride, for the divine creature singularly arrested his attention and more. His mare beat its commendable wings to keep them in the air, as the other frolicked high and low.
Unwilling to have this exceptional purity be dimmed for whichever darkness might linger in the earth below.
But Marvolo waited after letting his ride be herded back to the stables, as the lovely companion of his strode up to him with infused delight, lovely with the royal blue trimmed open robe trailing behind. Hadrian looked very much ruffled, the dark hair gleefully framing the elfin face even as the ends were still somewhat contained, and the previously pale skin was suffused liberally with joyful health.
"Thank you! I haven't enjoyed myself like this since…well, what feels like forever."
Marvolo gave a close-mouthed smile, the clench in jaws of the clawing wounds into the throat of this monster locked upon its prey, and the brilliant glow in the most coveted of green did not help any.
"Looks like you enjoyed it."
"Enjoyed it?" Hadrian looked fairly flabbergasted, and at the honest expression the tightness in his throat receded some, "You have no idea how much I…" Focus sharpened the doe eyes and the unfiltered delight dimmed, Marvolo regretted it some, "Actually you don't, do you?"
Marvolo was about to wave away the accusations in the observant features, but the unimpressed arch of the dark brows had his mouth quirking in amusement instead, "Perhaps. It is not important anyway."
But his devious angel would not be deterred so and Hadrian took a resolute step forward," Oh no, you are not brushing this off. I am not letting you."
"No?"
Truly he did not consider this matter of any significance. He had never enjoyed flying, or more accurately he was fairly apathetic to it. He had loathed brooms ever since the flying lessons in the first year of Hogwarts; the transfer of control into a semi-sentient thing had him unsettled. Resolved to never be at the mercy of an easily manipulated thing, he had learned to fly by the power of his own magic.
Hadrian was not irate, but the determination had strengthened the slumped shoulders and he looked magnificent. It was even more riveting considering the fact that such confidence was hardly unwarranted either, but rather Hadrian chose so to be understated rather than bask in his true glory.
His angel tilted his head slightly in consideration, "Or you wouldn't, should you be interested in getting any information out of me in future. Fair exchange, remember?"
Marvolo had to laugh, "Making up for lost time, are we?"
Light dusting of pink highlighted his cheekbones, and Marvolo had to bite the inside of his mouth to withstand the urge of exploring such tempting warmth with his mouth.
He turned away instead, lest the claws be bared to the innocent eyes of his angel," I don't like flying much, no."
"Why not?"
Marvolo shrugged," I don't know. I have never cared for it."
He never cared for many things his peers did. Tom Riddle might have been superior in knowledge and sheer power; but even without he would not have been able to blend with his fellow mates. Instead cold, grey eyes would speculate upon the screams of delight from the Quidditch stands, the ruckus in the common room where Slytherins played Gobstones and Exploding snaps, and the unbridled laughter would stream towards the coveted seat by the fireplace but Tom Riddle would remain entirely unconcerned, not even curious to the feelings that must be coursing in them which he himself seemed to lack.
Mere inches would separate his peers physically, yet Tom could hardly identify with them by even gulfs apart.
Indeed, he never cared for it, at least until he had experienced the unadulterated joy the little angel seemed to be flushed with and found himself entirely unable to share in any manner. He could already see the curious gaze of the little creature upon him, but Marvolo didn't quite know how to express his own lack of such inclination.
"Ah." Marvolo looked curiously at the discomfited visage of his little angel," You must find me absolutely foolish then, the way I seemed to…"Hadrian gestured helplessly to the previously wild frolics," romp about."
"No." And he wondered how the creature cared never for the absolute distance, the detachment that had once invited mockery of the foolish and ignorant, but never once he saw the same scorn at his obvious impassivity. How is it that despite all the differences between them, no other could sate his soul like this creature?" Your delight was what I had hoped for. I am pleased that my choice was received so positively."
Surely, surely considering the absolutely contrasting personalities should imply either unending conflict or one overshadowing the other. And yet, Marvolo could find no other more perfect to be chosen at his side.
"You have yet to go wrong."
Hadrian had looked away, the confession as pleasing to Marvolo as it was mortifying for the petite being. He was being uncharacteristically sincere or perhaps the little creature had always been honest and had rather not been confided in the Dark Lord.
How would he like to reward the naturally taciturn being by suffusing him with indulgent touches…
Not yet…
"Was it your best experience in the air then?" It should have been, there are few as fleet-paced as Abraxan and if he was indeed correct about the fact that Hadrian adored speed then there were few as comparable.
But the sweet mouth had opened instinctively to be snapped shut again and the fair features were drowned in light guilt.
The contentedness deserted him rapidly as he realized that the memories of him very well might have come second to another.
"Tell me the truth, I merely wish to know. You don't have to fear me."
Lies.
"It was not at all bad really, far from that. However, my favorite was with the broom once gifted to me." A thin finger twirled with ends of his hair, with a wistful look upon his face.
How could a measly stick ever compare with the might of such a majestic creature, a creature that was said to be chariots of high heavens? An exotic creature even considered singular by Wizarding standards. With such high maintenance, few ever had the financial capacity to afford their keep, fewer still could be blessed with a tolerable ride upon these. No matter that he cared naught for such indulgence, he was well aware of the significance of a single creature.
"It was faster than an Abraxan?" Disbelief colored his tone.
Again indecision twisted the rosy mouth, "No, it might not have been faster than an Abraxan. That didn't matter at all, I love it due to sentimental reasons more really."
Hadrian fell silent, and Marvolo ruthlessly stifled the desire to encourage him from talking, the instinctive urge to do that, which had befallen many a stubborn mouth before. He tasted blood in his mouth from the brutal control, as surely had his many victims when persuasion had to be wrought from his wand.
"Have I…made you uncomfortable?"
Slightly startled visage turned to him as if beyond the horizon they had instead been attentive to another.
Jealousy was unbecoming of polite society, but the Dark Lord could hardly ever be expected to conform ever.
"No. It is just that…it seems no matter how much time passes, he will always be a raw memory anyway."
A memory he was barely resisting from leaving none but torn scraps of, because the fondness with which Hadrian spoke of this person was not only inflammatory to the snarling possessive monster in his core, but also a resounding echo in the yearning emptiness of his soul.
"He must be extraordinary then, to have warranted such significance in your heart." The false compliment, did it show the hollowness he felt within?
"I don't think you would have liked him at all." Hadrian laughed and for a moment Marvolo floundered with his occluded mind to understand however this person could have known the inner musing of a Dark Lord. "He was the complete opposite of the typical pureblood. Not at all serious and stubborn to boot. He was a pureblood and he preferred muggle shirts over robes."
Marvolo swallowed his instinctive flinch, to see the pensive expression on Hadrian," Are you being deliberate even now, lovely?"
His Lovely seemed entirely unrepentant," Perhaps. Words could be misleading after all."
More than the fact Hadrian had wished to verify the reassurance Marvolo had wrote in the letters, the truth also remained that the flighty creature had been reluctant to part with the memories of this person. The distraction would have worked as well, had it not been for the fact that his rage at this unknown was far greater than the mention of blood-traitor purebloods.
He mentioned none of this to his fidgeting creature," I could try to argue on that, but you are right. Actions are more telling, aren't they, my sweet angel?"
Eyes narrowed, the beautiful creature replied," Words could be revealing as well. Tell me, Marvolo, the one so obstinately loathing everything muggle and associated, how come you are using muggle expressions, then?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"Angel. The one you seemed to favor over my name. It is not a word true wizards should know."
Marvolo stilled. Had he forgotten that it was indeed a muggle expression, a childhood tale had ingrained so inconspicuously, such that he had hardly paid any attention to the origin of this knowledge? And it was worrisome; he had never been so expressive in front of others. Being precise and nothing more. Being chatty in the house of Slytherin was an act of foolishness, for it could never be certain what simple nuances could have been absorbed by others and which could, later on, be used against you. No one had ever known he had called a muggle orphanage home for better half of his Hogwarts years and before. No one had known that Tom Riddle was indeed a name of a muggle, sure it had been suspected and once or twice people had dared call him with derogatory names until he had revisited upon their desire to live.
Now, inexplicably, he had slipped in front of this one, of whom he had hardly any true knowledge.
And there were the looks of suspicious disbelief even from this being, that he had known would entail from his true heritage.
Magic rolled in disturbed sleep and Marvolo turned away, unable to comprehend the extent to which he had left himself exposed.
The discontented twitch of magic abruptly stiffened when a hesitant hand covered his tight knuckles, gentle in its unfamiliarity. "Marvolo." There was an audible swallow before the other continued," No matter how it might have seemed, it was not…I did not say it with malicious intent. I don't care, I don't care what backgrounds people might come from. I don't care who they were before, only just who they are now. So it doesn't matter how you knew it. But you are being incredibly hypocritical in damning muggles and then accepting them wherever they might suit your purpose."
The rage could have thrown off the person so insolent as to mock, the person so daring as to touch and Marvolo turned to take that person's hand in his grasp, pulled the surprised body closer.
His eyes were closed, futilely trying to direct the swirling mess of emotions and memories throbbing in his pulse. His forehead dropped to touch the soothing of a dark head and he felt a surprised exhale but no more resistance.
The treasured hand he held with reverence, and remarked by the stuttered beats he conveyed his adoration to the smooth palm with his mouth.
"I cannot. I cannot accept them, cannot tolerate their presence, their remainder. But it seems no matter how much I try, the memories wouldn't leave. All the time I spent there, the lone spot of brightness I recall is the stories, of angels and fairies. When I first saw you, you were just as radiant and I couldn't help but think of you as an angel, one that belongs high up in the heavens."
He didn't see the fluttering of surprised lashes, but felt the heat that arose at such an unabashed compliment.
"However, now I can't very well go on using it, can I? Now that I know."
He didn't see the frustrated nibble of tempting mouth, but heard the unconvinced words."I didn't… I don't mind if you do continue to call me that. Just, Hadrian is my name too, you know." The words ended with a pouting complaint in the pleasing voice.
Marvolo let a surprised laugh escape, neither confirming nor denying," I know, lovely."
He laughed even more, when Hadrian turned away with an exasperated sound.
-t-h-t
Spelled tresses of tolerable obedience swiveled around a lower back as Hadrian dithered indecisively on his heels. Crimson eyes looked on in amusement as the creature looked at the impending gauntlet with biting doubt.
"Come Hadrian. It is unbecoming of a wizard to worry over such a thing."
Green eyes flashed venomously at the other wizard. Darkness saturated the moonless night, with the twinkling efforts of stars their only guides. The gloom of cloudy light had long departed, but the darkness had not left their company.
"I am merely exercising simple caution."
"When magic can put that caution to rest, it becomes unnecessary. A simple spell, sweet one and after that you won't know the difference."
"But I will know the truth and let me tell you I don't want to take a bath in the middle of the night."
"You sound as if you don't trust your magic."
"I do...I just can't stop thinking about it."
Marvolo looked at the stubborn creature with ill-hidden enjoyment. Their light argument had already passed quite some time, but he had been resolutely lenient. The tense figure was a curious mixture of intrigue and anxiety. Had it been anyone else impatience would have forced his hand already; but under the darkness of new moon, the little angel glowed akin to an ethereal creature, a brilliant ring of green blessed with vibrancy whereas the rest of the world had fallen into unwavering obscurity and the little mouth was pulled periodically to nibble on and a pale hand pulled at the sleeves as if to hide more.
They stood by the edges of the lake. For sure it was not denied to the muggles, as many magical lands were. But the time dominated by magical creatures had it shrouded by an impenetrable fog, or at the very least deterrent to all, save those of Magic. Hadrian had been surprised at the concealing charm that Magic had provided on its own, rather than by the interference of wizards.
But such had been how the two worlds had stayed apart so far.
He turned back to the task at hand, watching Hadrian frowning at the lake. To walk upon the unfrozen water was not an impossible feat for any wizard and Marvolo had spoken of a stroll upon the lake. But he had left the choice for Hadrian to take, the first step if he would choose, aware that their time inside the fog where he had to be dependent upon Marvolo for any direction had left the fiery creature unsettled.
He could have been impatient, had he not been utterly taken by even the minutest gesture his creature displayed.
But he had given ample time already; surely he could be forgiven for waiting no longer for the decision to lie upon his reluctant companion.
"Come, my lovely." The little angel looked at him askance, but no matter how much Marvolo would remain contrite for upsetting Hadrian, he would not cease adoring his creature by words or by action.
"You are kidding me." Beneath the disbelieving tone, there lay a very reasonable worry as lovely eyes took in the vastness of the lake, solemn still and nothing but as if to reflect the magnificence of the sky.
Their path resembled as if they would be stepping upon the stars themselves, soft ripples the only distortion of the image.
His palm remained inviting, for the warmth of his angel to settle within. And he didn't revoke the request, no matter that the strain travelled up his shoulders as Hadrian was not so easily convinced.
Easier perhaps would have been to decimate the hesitation non-consensually, but his unspoken vow had been to offer his angel a choice. Not merely a compliance wherever the Dark Lord would direct, but actual consent to fall in step with him.
No more a disguised accusation Hadrian would benefit from, no more an excuse of dubious willingness he could slide behind.
Tentative fingers slipped into the slot of his openly extended hand and the skipped beat echoed equally in their shared breaths.
Marvolo gently pulled his creature to his secure purchase," I won't let you fall, I promise."
'Because I won't let you be far from my arms.'
Their progress was tentative, because Hadrian remained wary of the fact that they were practically walking on open water. No matter how much Marvolo wished to devour the darling mouth chewed to swollen rose, this distracted countenance would not be acceptable.
"Hadrian." Anxious eyes snapped to him, and Marvolo smiled to soothe the racing pulse of the creature," Have faith in my magic." In me.
"I know. It's foolish because we are wizards and…"
"However, you are letting your practicality blind you, unlike wizards."
Hadrian scowled at him and Marvolo let their bodies drift a bit farther. There was a hitched inhalation and the tightening grasp upon his wrist. Marvolo hid his satisfied smile and pulled his little wizard close. Hadrian moved without hesitation, tiny trembles subsiding as he burrowed into the secure hold.
Marvolo frowned and lifted the withdrawn features to be savored. The fear in those shrouded eyes was very real, as was the abashed discomfort burning in the pale skin. Gently he cooed to soothe the trembling in the pretty lips," Hadrian…"
"I had fallen into a lake once." Marvolo looked at the wizard who was determinedly looking far off into the distance," I remember the cold. I remember the water burning in my lungs. I remember how I couldn't breathe…couldn't do anything before sinking down to the bottom. Sometimes being a wizard isn't enough."
"I am here now, and I will change all your haunting nightmares into beautiful memories."
Hadrian looked at him with a strange expression, in a surprised revelation, but confided none of his thoughts.
Marvolo turned the pensieve figure in his arms, so that the back of the petite figure was clutched to his chest, let lie a hand that held onto the slim waist and he whispered to his dearly adored, "Don't let the thoughts of your past cloud the present. I can't abide it. Open your eyes, and look at the beauty surrounding you. Hear the laughter of life rejoicing. Do not think of what is lost, be with me at this moment, be with me to savor one of the most beautiful sights in this world."
And Marvolo twirled his wand lighting up the bottom of the lake into brilliant light letting the seemingly abandoned water body burst into a myriad of activities. He knew Hadrian was enchanted already at the sheer natural beauty of the innocuous lake, because behind colorful anemones small fairies darted out to chase after fishes far bigger, because even the plants were alive and thrumming in the viscous life, because the lake seemed to breathe with the incomparable beauty of magic.
Hadrian needed no prompting as he was led deeper upon the lake and they saw disgruntled mermaids looking up at them. Many creatures were befuddled at the strange light suddenly emanating from the floor, but others mostly shrugged and continued on. Marvolo let himself be immersed at every sparkle of delight, every gasp of alarm, every precious expression flickering across the fair face.
"It is beautiful."
Marvolo smiled. "It is indeed, however not the only thing I have brought you here for."
-t-h-t
"Can you hear it?"
Baffled gaze turned to him, before understanding lit in the expressive countenance and Hadrian turned towards the centre of the lake from where the softest hums of music emanated, the incredible harmony of tinkling bells and deeper beats, the pretty mouth parted slightly for a soundless oh.
No prompting was necessary, and Marvolo led a curious Hadrian deeper into the lake, their footsteps leaving the slightest of ripples upon undisturbed water. The charm had thrown the great body of water into sheer brilliance.
Despite the thrumming curiosity about the mysterious tune, his beautiful companion did not rush so and their steps were slow, for Hadrian would often stop at and exclaim quietly, quite taken with the magical world of underwater colonies. In such a dark night, in the silence of all things nocturnal, only their breaths crowded the thin air and their clasped hands remained a heady weight upon his serenity, the vision of this enchanting creature, divinity of the land.
Hadrian didn't ask what the creatures were, vicious ones that lurked in trembling weeds glaring balefully at them or the misshapen objects occasionally swimming by. He didn't ask, perhaps entirely taken by the perplexing system, and Marvolo didn't volunteer any information, preoccupied as he was in savoring the minutest turn that transformed his face, in the slightest arc of brows and curls of the sweet mouth, surrounded entirely by the presence of Hadrian in the stale air.
Pulsating with the luminosity that exposed the underwater body into its intricate kaleidoscopic system, so utterly lovely that nature must preen with the art created, the rarest of sights blessed to few undaunted and confident, but the translation was lost upon the Dark Lord who looked upon the loving crafts that nature wove to create this magnificence with unsympathetic care.
He admired this beauty instead, one that successfully captivated him, surpassed all that he had ever known and assumed. One that had far too long evaded his need, and his hunger had turned upon itself, to sate the greed leaving gouging wounds upon whichever composure that could have existed within the Dark Wizard.
He tightened his grip on the infinitely precious treasure, shy of smothering and let himself be called and bound to this creature of irredeemable avarice, to be consumed in the sparkling brush of riveting verdant, the radiance upon warm skin and the enticing curves on which a dark braid would dance provocatively.
He knew they had reached their destination, when the captive hand within his covetous grip jerked in surprised exhilaration, wishing to be closer to this astounding creation of magic.
Deep under the lake breathed a flower most exquisite, in darkness the petals would open, blushing velvety red and lovely. The five petals would then spread wide, reaching farther than assumed with the deceptive width, and floated gently in the apathetic breeze near the base of the lake. The tiny bells, so diminutive akin to mere sparkles of a wand and shade of brilliant sunlight cradled in the centre of the beautiful flower, the gentle movement of which accounted for an enchanting melody that would reach farther than logically acceptable.
But little sprites playing within the cavern of anemones would swim closer, abandoning their capers, and they would sway to the shivers of the tune, their delighted giggling a seemingly lovely melody in itself. They would alight upon the smooth petals far larger than their body and their little feet would move lightly upon the carpeted ballroom.
It was a lovely sight; one could devote days without feeling exhausted to this phenomenon of outstanding magic.
And Hadrian appreciated the wonders thus with sighs of pleasure escaping the unguarded mouth, as he himself never could care for, but was bothered none to instead cherish the late hours of a dark night beside his beautiful one.
Patiently he waited, a steady support behind his little creature, intoxicated with the smell of startling purity. And he waited, long fingers grazing the twists of the intricate braid falling nearly down to the waist. The sprites danced still, moving together and falling apart, in unpredictable rhythms and delightful symphony. The music wrote its magic still, and Hadrian peered unblinkingly down, the look of fascinated wonder reflected in the verdant gleam.
He waited still, unbothered and undaunted, an uncharacteristic gesture seeing how the Dark Wizard could never abide the attention of his lovely one diverted thus to another, living or not. But he closed his eyes, and inhaled the singular fragrance of his company, let himself be assured by the steady pulse foreign to his own that laid limp to his command, and let the heady knowledge of this being by his side perforate the gaping wails of his wounded soul.
And the little creatures became drowsy with fatigue. Feet dragged and translucent wings fluttered dazedly as they wavered. Unwilling to abandon the silky paradise, they laid down then and there, curling with hands beneath their heads, dots of innocence scattered around the benevolent petals.
Hadrian started to draw back in disappointment when last of them fell, but never could have predicted the next moment while Marvolo smiled with anticipation.
The petals curled inward, with gentle movements, until there was no escape to be had, vines that had been overlooked previously moved with demonic intentions and Hadrian gasped when the flower crumpled deeper still, tightened even more and the implication could not have been taken any other way.
But perhaps the most terrible would be the aftermath and Marvolo caught the startled creature in his safe embrace, as it flinched violently when the flower unfurled after mere moments, a healthy flush upon the lovely scarlet blooms, no trace of the merry little dancers remained. And the brightest sheen upon the petals seemed lovelier still, the brilliance of magical blood spilled.
Dazed and horrified, his precious stayed still as the Dark Lord crooned to him the tale of lovely Moonshade," Moonshade, a misleading name since it would never open where moonlight still favors the earth. A very coveted plant in potions, rarest of potions. Sometimes it is also called the siren flower, because of how it attracts victims with a musical voice. But the thrall is very weak, even so, I have heard of one or two potion makers who have drowned in blind enchantment."
His stupefied beauty came out of its frozen state and turned to him in horror, "Why? Why would you show me this?"
He knew not when precisely his perceptions had shifted thus, when the desire to enfold this divine beauty in the falsely comforting prison everything soft and beautiful to something more real. He had only intended to graze a dark stain upon such a pure soul, to coax the lovely into a fallacy of freedom, and the world this creature would perceive would have roused with his intention alone. Perhaps he had gathered from the exquisite green eyes, upon which no shades of malevolent veils dared dim the brilliance, that the innocence thus of this exotic soul had not been for the remarkable ignorance of reality, but resilience instead.
And perhaps the rigid rein upon himself had to be relaxed some, as Hadrian would no more be sated with the sweetly charming evasion of a skilled serpent when the little angel prodded the vulnerable underbelly with nary a care to the defensive snarls of the predator.
For the first time ever, hesitance marred the confident tones of the Dark Lord, no matter that his chosen companion could not perceive so and Marvolo gathered reassurance from caressing the sweet rhythms of a slim wrist.
"I have always been fascinated by this flower." Marvolo gazed upon the flower unaffected, at the dancing bells of golden hues, "It is coveted for rare potions and even if Potioneers feel rather revolted it would be precious to them."
Hadrian shifted away, away from the beautiful thing he had been admiring not a moment earlier, "Potions are not my thing, really..."
But that had not been his intention truly. Of course, it would have very much welcome to know the little bit information of his companion no matter his companion had any inclinations or not. But that had not been his intention.
However, he was not going to waste this opportunity to gather the rarest of ingredients, one that would not be so readily available again and he trusted none to pluck this plant without magic and keep it intact in its original self.
Marvolo gave a reassuring pressure upon the other's hand, before tangling them even tighter and Hadrian looked at him with confusion, "Neither mine, however, I need it all the same. I need to gather it manually. And I did promise, did I not? To never let go?"
And he waited, for possible protests and reluctant struggles, but Hadrian voiced none of the conflicting expression playing across the fair face.
"Vicet"
The water parted on either side to let them through. They could have gone through the water but Marvolo had no intention of getting his robes wet at the late hour.
The division stopped in the vicinity of the Moonshade. He could have plucked it by using a severing and summoning charm. But for an ingredient to remain passive in the brewing except for when it was needed, it was necessary to have no external magical residues lingering upon it. And hence, the harvest would be a little complicated but not pain-staking.
He couldn't use magic on the plant itself, but he could manipulate the surrounding. With gouging charms on the earth, the vines were relatively easy to unearth and finally, he reached inside the watery container to pluck the flower by its stem.
There was a sharp inhale by his side when he touched the flower, but no sudden movement broke his concentration.
After which it was a simple process of putting it into a glass cage filled with water from the lake and letting the entire ensemble be dropped into a package with a mouth magically extended.
His companion was silent by his side when they returned to the surface, and he knew not whether the young wizard was inclined towards abhorrence still, but the thought was directed towards the now deserted rock still.
"You said you found it fascinating."
He had not thought that Hadrian would initiate the conversation on his own, but a shred of disbelief passed the verdant shades in contemplative wait.
And Marvolo laughed lightly, humor not the least coating his voice," But you found it horrifying, didn't you? Revolting, even. Of course, wizards normally wouldn't care about it as long as it doesn't start eating them. But they do care that this plant is a crucial ingredient in sacrificial rituals." He wondered how Hadrian would react to the indirect confession about what he was intending to use the plant for," What do you think, sweet one, do you think it should be regulated as it is now, have it cleansed off of the surface of the earth for being so vile?"
But the beautiful face didn't scrunch in absolute spurn, merely looked at him with introspective wait.
"What do you mean to say exactly?"
And the Dark Wizard could not return the patient look of the little angel, for it had not been quite an impulse that had him invite Hadrian to this place, but not quite a well thought-out decision either. At this moment, he seemed to be uncertain of his own intentions, or perhaps reluctant to acknowledge the precise nature of it.
Marvolo felt strangely exhausted, and for a second the scarlet eyes retreated beneath lids laden with fatigue, "Perhaps I shouldn't have brought you here. Not exactly the perfect ending of a day I had wanted, is it?"
The pliant hand so far in his sensitized grip stirred, however, and a shy response tugged at his finger. Marvolo looked back at his exquisite companion with strained breaths, convinced of the downturned and resentful visage he was sure to be presented. But Hadrian was determined, with blood staining velvety skin at the voluntary contact.
"I want to stay a little longer. Can we?"
He knew not of this strange weight that had been straining his shoulders, had been staining his poise, but at the stubborn if bashful words, his returning smile was a bit more relaxed. He turned to the darling creature and tugged him close, letting the unoccupied hand lie carefully upon the arch of an enviable hip. Their joined hands curved as well to rest upon the midriff of the frozen being.
Moments passed slowly before the stiff frame started to relax and Marvolo closed his eyes letting the silent comfort wash over him.
-t-h-t-
Harry closed his eyes to the gentle maneuvers by the Dark Wizard; the touches were shy as opposed to previously when they had been arrogantly self-serving. But no matter the tones behind the lingering grazes, the Dark Lord had reason to be so confident for the caresses rained chaos upon his tremulous pulse.
Yet, it had not been the electrifying proximity encouraged so by the heady magic of this person that had his mind in stormy ruin.
The body behind his back remained resolute and secure, a promise he couldn't say ever had been granted to him in such a manner and Harry resisted leaning into the embrace.
Resisted turning around and looking into the troubling gaze a bleeding red that had no right being so human.
He mentally pleaded for the Dark Wizard to let his feet be striding upon reality, for this person to not be so very fantastical so that no matter how Harry might have realized the difference between past and present, he could not protect himself from being utterly overwhelmed. Perhaps he had bowed to the relentless longing already after so many deliberations and had come to accept the insistent words of Marvolo while nursing a lingering hurt. Perhaps he had expected the smug undertone of a conquering Dark Lord who would never accept faults to be wrought from his hand, would never apologize to even forever silenced victims, wouldn't regret and no matter that Marvolo had been persistently occupying all his attention, Harry had determined already to no more be passive.
Even if he had been knowingly oblivious to protect himself, a futile effort to let no more bonds be forged between two powerful beings lest they shatter the foundations of all that existed.
Futile indeed it had been, and a fool would only attempt again to expect a different result.
To let the glimpses into his life be exposed in such a manner had been difficult and vulnerability had Harry even more defensive than usual. Malice had crept into the fearful wizard, had demanded from Dark Lord the truth of which none had ever been confided to.
And the realization had Harry stunned and confused, but perhaps pleased as well. As well as a little ashamed, for never had he exploited a person so callously, so bluntly with none so regard but soon he had consoled himself that the Dark Wizard could hardly be surprised when this treatment was what he suffered to another.
No matter how convincing his cautious mind might have been, Harry was not so cruel to ignore the darkened glimpses of the crimson gaze.
But perhaps the most perplexing of it all had been when Marvolo had taken him to this deadly magical plant of Moonshade with such enthusiasm, yet had all but retreated within himself, not offering any valid explanation.
Harry had been understandably not so accepting of the once lovely flower once he had seen the dreadful massacre, couldn't stomach seeing innocent magical blood spilled. But he had been compassionate to all creatures, no matter their origins and the war had hardly increased the capability to withstand the end of any life.
But he had not been as repulsed as Marvolo assumed.
Because in the magical world, there are few plants that are not dangerous in one way or another. Whether to protect itself from being hunted or being consumed by predators, the majority of magical fauna carried a defense mechanism. Perhaps it stemmed from a need to protect itself from the ignorant muggles. After all, those were rather few in quantity and Magic must protect its own. They are dangerous in the sense to protect their heritage and encourage their offspring to live. Few examples could be taken: Devil's Snare, Babotuber, Mandrake. Some have no purpose whatsoever but are a nuisance all the same.
However, moonshade, a plant he had not been aware of earlier, seemed to be dangerous in a more malevolent manner. Few magical plants he could think of that actually ingested magical creatures. Sure many tricked and led creatures to their death. But an active consumption he had never known of. Considering how he was uncaring of all things potion, however, perhaps it was to be expected.
But the Dark Lord's reaction had been curious. The Moonshade had no redeeming quality that could excuse it of the intelligent viciousness. Harry had been horrified to see the glistening petals in the aftermath of a sated Moonshade, even more so when he realized that it must be the blood of the poor elfs thus giving such a beautiful sheen. Seeing how it was perhaps used in not so redeeming manner, he could understand the general appalling interest any could have for this thing.
But he would never think that the dark nature of a Moonshade warranted execution of the worse kind, that it was no more deserving of existing than any other.
Thus he wondered, with the cold hand of Marvolo a constant reminder, whether the Dark Wizard had not empathized with the solitary bloom indeed. To be dark in nature, and forsaken thus by all, as a suspicious headmaster had once done. To be the only one to be trusted by self, and accepted irrespective of the true nature.
Perhaps Marvolo had found his crimson gaze reflected upon the vibrant petals and found the one thing who had been born as devoid of sympathy as he had been.
But Harry would never resent either one of them for existing.
He said nothing to the revelation that surely condemned countless many to their premature ends, but instead covered the joined hands with a lightest of faith and mere a pressure could he spare to hopefully convey what his throat refused to.
He let out a trembling gasp, when the dark head of Marvolo lowered down with rarest of acquiescence, as if the Dark Wizard borrowed strength from his quivering frame and Harry shut his eyes tightly at the quiet breaths that caress his nape as Marvolo rested the head upon his shoulders. The petrified hand would have fallen, but Marvolo didn't give him the opportunity.
-t-h-t
It was as well that his lovely companion was turned away from him, however in his grasp, for the vulnerability that shredded the imperturbable Dark Lord could not be forgiven. The light grip upon his cherished one tightened further, let the pliant body be pressed so very indecently to his body and he cared naught for the increasing shivers stirring his captive.
Marvolo remained bowed upon the so very forgiving neck, the rapid pulses of which he could so easily stroke but resisted, as he let his internal struggles dissipate slowly, stretched as he was within his mind, unable to gather coherency. But the submission of his beautiful intended more than grounded him, an anchor the Dark Lord almost recoiled from; such a weakness, such a vulnerability.
Unforgivable and yet inescapable.
Unable to quell the urge, he inhaled the sweet scent of Hadrian from the pale curve that sheltered him so, the lightness permeating his senses.
"Forgive me."
The supple body in his arms stiffened with surprise and Marvolo let his overwhelmed self be suffused in his ultimate need.
'Forgive me for hurting you.'
'Forgive me for I can never return your kindness.
Because he had tried, had he not? To rest the choices however small, however excruciating the distance had been. He had tried to honor thus, the beseeching green eyes however he could, for normality is but an illusion upon the twisted reality.
For however much respect Hadrian might invoke, nothing shall forestall the inevitable.
'Never let you go.'
"How I have missed you."
His Hadrian was pliant in his hold; the slim hand clenched his arm with resigned acceptance.
-t-h-t
Author's note:-
My dearest readers, first of all ,yea I probably broke my record of longest chapter. At this point, apologies are mute anyway. So I am sorry, or not sorry depending on how you take it. Would you believe I still wanted to add more in descriptions? I have recently taken to binge eating manga and shounen-ai anime, so mostly my imagination had been running around chibi harry and cute head tilts and big manga eyes. I tried very hard not to let it affect my writing.
Now, for tiny trivias: Rosier was said to be one of the original death eaters, I took that one from canon. The name Wilfred however I coined. It means desiring peace and felt ironical I guess? the vicet spell- I sort of made it from the latin verb Vicis meaning part and est. It divides your target evenly, a very mild spell.
Thank you to everyone who ever made this fic a favorite or followed it or left behind a review. Everyone was so very kind, but I can't help but be disappointed a little nonetheless. I keep very low expectations after every chapter it just keeps getting lower. So..I just wanted to say that. Still, I think I love it when you guys genuinely read it thoroughly and leave behind such awesome comments. Pretty please?
I wanted to ask, there is very low probability of high definition smut in this story, not any time soon. But I might have written a tiny teeny fantasy of Dark Lord when he was still in the early crazy mode. If you guys do want it, I can upload it separately. Mind, it won't be explicit. My blood is likely to end up outside of my body then. I don't know what it will be. Just wanted to say anyway.
See you next chapter.
