Hollow Thunder, Vital Lightning -Aariya
Rating: NC-17 :Especially so from this chapter on. You've been warned!:
Pairing: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle
Genre: Drama, Romance, Fantasy, Action/Adventure
Summary: Life after Voldemort is ideal and perfect for everyone except the one who made it possible. Unbelievably bored and unhappy, Harry performs a spell that will take him to an alternate universe where he can be happiest with Voldemort. Even he hadn't expected the outcomes or how the spell would misinterpret his desires.
Warnings: slash; AU; Slytherin!Harry; Dark!Harry (sorta)...and another one I took out that you will have to figure out for yourself; it's kind of crucial to the plot so I can't tell you!
Spoilers: Compliant with first five books and includes information from six and seven.
Disclaimer: Harry and Tom sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I...wait, that didn't happen in the books. Oh; well, now you know I didn't write Harry Potter, because if I did, that would've happened in every other chapter.
.-.
"HTVL" - English, or other human languages
HTVL - Thoughts, Spells, Special Text (titles and such)
"HTVL" - Parseltongue, Incanted Spells, or a language within a language
HTVL - Parselmagic (spells and the language in writing)
Chapter 10: Lightning Strike, Part II
Hadrian was quite sure this was nowhere near how he'd imagined this conversation going. The entire situation felt so surreal he was having a hard time believing it was happening.
It was not a feeling he was unfamiliar with, but not even in his wildest dreams would he have thought he'd be amicably discussing the chance of a relationship with Voldemort.
For his own peace of mind, he should probably stop thinking of him as that.
He couldn't remember the last time he was in an actual relationship. Besides the disastrous one with Cho Chang (which he refused to acknowledge), he'd been with two girls after her. One had lasted for a few weeks, in where he'd discovered the joys of sex—albeit only with a girl. Then he'd wasted two months agonizing over whether his new girlfriend just wasn't as attractive as his old or if all girls had really lost their charm.
He wasn't as upset as he'd thought he'd be when he came to terms with being gay—especially since sex with a guy was much better. His first boyfriend lasted for all of a month before the war, training to become a Shadow Lord, and making sure he could defeat Voldemort overshadowed everything else. He couldn't make time for anything but basic urges.
He didn't have much experience where the old Hadrian was concerned either. Though it had taken only one girl to realize he was gay, Hadrian had been with his first boyfriend for even shorter—a mere week—before an older boy had caught his attention. Nothing had come of it, and he'd had a string of passing flings after that, though laughably short in comparison to the number of flings he'd had as Harry.
It seemed neither of their history was much equipped for handling this type of thing.
Hadrian looked back at the boy sitting beside him and decided he was all right with that. Tom was right. He wanted him and was wanted in return; there was no need to further complicate it. He'd just let things proceed as they were and see where it led him. After all, he'd crossed a universe for Voldemort and had gotten Tom instead. He may as well reap the benefits from that mix-up.
Not to mention, his partner was as ill-equipped when it came to this as he was; probably even more so. Small comfort, but comfort all the same. At least, some of his uncertainties on this dauntingly unknown territory he was preparing to tread were laid to rest.
Tom's touch burnt with possessiveness as he lightly brushed the mark he'd imprinted on his skin, his dark eyes reflecting the same possessiveness as his touch. It was a pleasant burn, though, and it dawned on him that he shouldn't enjoy being perceived as a possession, especially by Tom Riddle.
Hadrian knew their dominant nature would forever clash, had known even before that oh-so lovely dream he'd had last week. Hence, he had to make it clear to Tom here and now that he wasn't just for the taking. He refused to roll over and be owned. He was more than ready to give just as much as he got.
At the moment, he couldn't think of a better way to do that than to leave his own visible claim on the Slytherin.
He shifted onto his knees on the large bed, and eliminated the space between them by slowly drawing nearer to the other boy. Tom's gaze followed him until he was looking up as Hadrian sat on his knees before him. Tom's hands encircled his waist and pulled him flush against his body. He could feel the heat coming from him even through their clothes.
Hadrian smiled down at him, unable to resist the urge to card his fingers through the silky hair beneath his hands. "We've got that settled, then?" he asked softly.
He held back a smirk at the sound Tom made in the back of his throat, which sounded suspiciously like a pleased hum. Apparently, the future Dark Lord liked his hair played with.
"It would appear so," Tom drawled, opening one eye when both had fallen shut under Hadrian's ministrations. He reciprocated by running his own hands up Hadrian's woefully sensitive spine, who couldn't have stopped the shiver that ran through him even if he'd wanted to.
"Have you anything else to add?"
"No; absolutely nothing."
"Good."
Hadrian leaned down to press a kiss to Tom's jaw while his hands moved to loosen the other boy's tie. He trailed his lips down slowly, to where jaw met neck, lingered there a bit to bestow upon it his full admiration, then lower to the vulnerable point that was Tom's jugular. Before he could so much as lick, forget sucking, Tom grabbed his head and tugged him up for a demanding kiss. It was really rather hard to be upset when that hot tongue was doing such delightful things to his mouth.
He succumbed to the feeling for now, though he was determined not to let Tom distract him. He would be marking his intent before they left here. He hesitated in doing just that when he remembered one more very important thing they had to discuss.
He withdrew from the kiss and pulled away, giving Tom a firm look as he declared, "I have one stipulation."
"My, it's barely been an hour and you're already making demands," Tom drawled, expression half-amused and half-inquisitive.
"I'd hardly call it a demand. Besides, I doubt it's one you'll disagree with me on."
"Let's have it, then."
"This," he began, gesturing significantly at the both of them, rather unwilling to actually put a name to it, "must stay between us. I don't enjoy the idea of others knowing and talking about us as if we're the latest bit of gossip from the British League."
"That is a condition? I was under the impression it was already understood."
Hadrian smiled satisfactorily. He hadn't seriously considered that Tom would object, but he'd been partially prepared to deal with Tom's overly possessive nature; for it to rear its head, to want to make sure everyone was aware Hadrian belonged to him. Of course, he would have never let Tom get away with doing something like that. However, it was nice to know they could be in accord outside of a battlefield.
"Brilliant. It's good we understand each other," he expressed with meaning. Maybe this wasn't going to be as impossible as he'd thought.
"Indeed," was the absent response. Tom's large, surprisingly very hot hands were caressing the skin of his back, somehow having found a way past his robes and shirt without his notice. He smirked at Hadrian's reaction when he ran a finger down his spine. "You like that, don't you?" he purred, breath hot against his ear.
Hadrian scarcely kept from rolling his eyes at his smug tone. Figured it wouldn't take long for Tom to try to use that against him. Refusing to confirm his query, he pushed him back onto the bed and ordered him to "Stop talking."
000
The week following the Hogsmeade Debacle—so the papers had taken to calling it once the initial shock had worn off, as though it hadn't been a real attack; how typical of them to blow it out of proportion one moment then downplay it the next—life at Hogwarts returned to some semblance of normalcy.
Except, naturally, for the fact that the students refused to forget the very public kiss Tom and he had shared. The last person Hadrian would have expected to confront him about it was Abraxas, but his cousin had been the first to do anything beyond stare and whisper.
The decision to keep their "relationship" (He was still rather uncomfortable with the word, or labeling whatever it was he had with Tom, for that matter, but it wasn't as ill-fitting as any number of other words.) private had turned out to be a futile endeavor the moment any of the students saw either of them. Everyone was already convinced they had been together for a while, apparently even before they themselves had been aware of their attraction.
Nevertheless, they'd both kept up appearances and acted no differently in public than before, allowing the students to draw their own conclusions. Or cast doubts, as the case may be where some were concerned. Despite the students' correct assumptions, Hadrian hadn't wanted what he and Tom shared to be a sort of entertainment for them, and Tom had been of the same mind. So, although there was no point in secrecy, they persisted with the façade of remaining friends.
Certain people, however, could not be so easily deceived or swayed. He hadn't thought it possible for Lestrange to hate him more than he already did, but he was finding new depths to the level of hatred the Slytherin had for him. While Lestrange had yet to voice the looks he gave him, Hadrian could tell it would only be a matter of time before he did so.
He didn't give two shits about Lestrange's response, though. Cassius's, on the other hand, had bothered him more than he'd anticipated. There was no reason it should have, of course. He hadn't been that emotionally involved with the boy to begin with, and now that they were nothing more than friends, he definitely shouldn't have been concerned how Cassius reacted to him (allegedly) being with someone else.
His hostile dorm mate and the Ravenclaw had been easy to figure out, but Alphard's reaction continued to baffle him. Hadrian had been sure he would talk to him about it; he'd even been ready to deflect the questions he would have been likely to ask. Instead, all Alphard did was throw him sidelong glances loaded with emotions he couldn't even begin to decipher.
One moment he would think it was dejection or betrayal or some other wounded-looking expression along the same lines. And then it would transform into what he could only guess as longing or resignation. None of them made any sense either way, and he'd be forced to start wondering when Alphard, of all people, had gotten so hard to read.
Stranger yet, though, was that it seemed his cousins had switched places. Abraxas was the type who was content with simply observing and keeping his thoughts to himself until presented an opportunity in where he could share them at the exact moment when he would appear most superior in comparison to others.
Whether he had done so this time Hadrian could not know. A full day hadn't even passed since his talk with Tom in the Room of Requirement before Abraxas had voiced his thoughts on all that was happening.
Abraxas had approached him during what was supposed to be his routine walk to lunch with Alphard at the end of Double Defense Against the Dark Arts on Monday. Alphard had gone ahead without him, and, though he'd found it odd, he'd been pathetically less preoccupied with it than the fact that he couldn't show up with Tom because neither of them wanted to draw attention by doing something different.
What the fuck was wrong with him? It was just a bloody walk to the Great Hall.
He'd welcomed the temporary distraction of Abraxas's puzzling behavior. The blond had been peculiarly more emotional and considerate than was normal for him. Hadrian had begun to feel like he'd stepped into an alternate reality within an alternate reality, where Alphard was the more aloof one of his cousins and Abraxas the more open.
And where a minor inconvenience that shouldn't have bothered him at all apparently bothered him.
At first, Abraxas hadn't indicated there was anything he wanted to talk about. But he'd hinted at a need for privacy by walking slowly, forcing Hadrian to keep with his pace until the corridor was empty of all students. Still, he'd kept quiet, which had convinced Hadrian that he must have something big to say for him not to have kept even polite conversation going.
Hadrian finally broke the silence once only the sounds of their footsteps remained. "Is there something you want to talk about?"
"Yes," Abraxas said succinctly, his tone implying he'd been waiting for Hadrian to say something before he spoke. "I wish to speak to you about Tom."
"Oh? What's there to say about—"
Abraxas immediately dismissed his words as though he couldn't fathom anyone disagreeing with him. "Please don't insult my intelligence. That…incident," he appended, making it sound like he'd chosen that specific word only for courtesy's sake but had many other things he'd rather call it, "may have convinced everyone else of what they already suspected was happening, but it only confirmed for me what I knew would happen the moment you two met."
And by 'that incident' Hadrian had to infer he meant the kiss, and 'you two' could only mean Tom and him. Not that that was a big mystery. A bigger one was that he was even having this conversation. Seriously, was this happening? Abraxas was bringing this up?
Dreading where it was headed, he cautiously asked, "And that would be?"
"That, eventually, both you and Tom would act on the palpable attraction between you," Abraxas informed with the air of one revealing a simple truth only he was privy to.
"You believe there was some sort of attraction when we first met?" Hadrian couldn't help laughing at the idea. His reaction to first seeing Tom Riddle was nothing short of dislike.
Abraxas's expression was smug and patiently indulgent, which made it all the more infuriating when he said, "It is all right if you want to deny it."
Hadrian refused to take the bait, so he let it slide, and gamely ignored his cousin's knowing smirk. "I believe you wished to talk about the present and not the past?"
Here, Abraxas came to a halt and turned to him with a solemn frown. Hadrian, too, stopped walking to face him, a little curious about the uncharacteristically earnest expression on the blond's face. His curiosity was further heightened when the Malfoy heir placed both hands on his shoulders, silver eyes no longer reflecting his customary look of superiority but something like slight concern.
"Hadrian, I realize you are trying to keep your situation with Tom private, but you must also realize I am not a fool to fall for such a ploy. Being discreet doesn't change the fact that I know, and no amount of denial or deception is going to convince me otherwise," Abraxas said in a firm and persuasive voice that might have had Hadrian spilling everything to him if he were a lesser person.
In that moment, though, he could see a glimpse of the man he would one day become. A man a lot like their grandfather, the ever-commanding Artemas Malfoy, somewhat like his cunning father Octavian, and even a little like his mother Ceres, whose deadly charm never failed to get her what she wanted.
Despite Hadrian's momentary lapse, Abraxas removed his hands and continued without missing a beat, "So let us kindly skip the part where I suggest you are involved with Tom, you insist on telling me I am imagining it, and neither of us gets anywhere."
Hadrian felt his brows furrow in confusion. He resisted the urge to deny his claims and instead asked the more pressing question, "What's wrong? I have never known you to forgo subtlety." Or the chance to participate in the delicate dance of getting one to reveal their secrets. It was like sport for a Malfoy.
They began moving once more, only until they turned the corner to the next corridor, and he was led to the wall opposite the Muggle Studies classroom and stopped again. Hadrian leaned against it, though Abraxas opted out, no doubt some type of fear for the state of his impeccable robes driving him. Just as Hadrian was poised to repeat it, the blond finally answered his question.
"As your more informed cousin, I feel obligated to warn you—"
"About Tom?" Hadrian interrupted incredulously.
That earned him a mildly annoyed glance. "Please allow me the courtesy of finishing."
Well. If he'd had doubts before, Hadrian could now be sure that his cousin was very serious about "warning him." He couldn't remember the last time Abraxas had been short with him—and just over disrupting him.
"All right; my apologies. Please continue," he urged, trying to sound contrite.
Abraxas nodded as if to say thank you. "I understand what I'm saying may seem absurd to you. You probably believe you know Tom well enough but, trust me, he may surprise you. Never underestimate his capacity for thinking only of himself. He is rather more charming than you think. I was personally aware of that for five years and yet I still fell for it." He paused for a short moment, then added, "Normally, I would be mostly amused. But you're family, Hadrian, and it's unacceptable for me to say nothing."
Wow. He hadn't seen that coming, especially from Abraxas.
Abraxas, who'd once destroyed Walburga's entire winter wardrobe during their childhood because she'd chosen Julius over him for the vacant spot on her big kids' team. And then, of course, there had been the more recent instance during the summer of their fifth year. One of his father's prospective students found himself unable to locate his wand for two weeks after he'd proven to be better at warding than Abraxas could ever hope to be in under a month.
Yeah; Abraxas was charming like that.
Now, almost two years later, that same boy, whose air of entitlement was worse than practically anyone else, was standing here actually thinking about someone besides himself? Though he had to concede that, for a Malfoy, family was most important. No matter how self-involved, they usually looked out for blood—albeit only those of pure blood.
Abraxas gave a small put-upon sigh, presumably at Hadrian's lack of reaction—visible, at least. He tried again from a different angle. "Look, I'm not going to waste mine and your time trying to convince you you shouldn't do it. We both know you will not heed me. However, it would be rather remiss of me not to give you healthy advice that I could have used."
Hadrian remembered the rumors he'd heard during his first weeks at Hogwarts. The ones hinting that Tom and Abraxas had been more than just friends two years ago (as much as anyone could be friends with Tom, at least). Was he now confirming that bit of gossip Hadrian had staunchly been ignoring?
"What are you saying, Abraxas?" he asked slowly.
His cousin's answering smile could only be called cynical. "You know exactly what I'm saying. I suppose I can recognize your doubt. I, too, would be a little skeptical."
Hadrian was afraid to ask his next question. He asked anyway, "Are you…in love with him?"
The response he got was a mixture of horror and morbid amusement, which, he had to admit, took some skill to pull off. Yet, despite himself, he found he was hugely relieved.
"Merlin, no." Abraxas chuckled, giving him a look that seemed to wonder why he would ever ask such a silly question. Well, pardon him for being curious. "Come now, cousin, you know me better than that. I am not as hopeless a fool as Renatus."
"My apologies," Hadrian found himself saying for the second time in less than five minutes. Leave it to Abraxas to get that out of him. "I had to ask."
"No, I was definitely never in love with Tom," said Abraxas, a little mirth still in his voice. He splayed his hand up against the stone wall in an understated motion Hadrian picked up as discomfort, and explained further, "But I was naïve, and I thought I was worth more to him than I actually was. For Tom Riddle, however, your worth can only be measured by how useful you are to him. I learned that before it was too late, and I shan't be making that mistake again."
"I appreciate your concern, Abraxas—no, I really do," Hadrian insisted when he was given a disbelieving stare. "I mean, to be honest, I'm having a hard time recalling when you last thought of someone else," he teased, though partly serious.
"That's cute. Are you always so witty, or do you save that just for me?" Abraxas deadpanned.
Hadrian resisted the urge to snort. The blond had an odd sense of humor, like he wasn't even aware he was being funny. "As I believe it—and pardon me if I sound at all condescending—you were fifteen. I am not. I'd like to think I'm a little wiser and more experienced.
"Just because my circumstances with Tom have changed, it doesn't suddenly mean I am going to be any more trusting of him than I used to be. I may not know him as well as I think, but I am secure in the knowledge that I know him well enough. Moreover, you Slytherins have a hero-worship for him that I do not share nor comprehend."
"Naturally. He's Salazar Slytherin's heir," Abraxas stated, as if that explained it all.
Hadrian supposed it did to him and all the others who chose to follow Tom. He'd never get it, and wished that Abraxas didn't either. He was intimately aware of how Voldemort had treated his followers, and he suspected the only thing that would stop Tom from outright Cruciating them was Hogwarts' wards. There were, of course, other ways to torture one, many even worse than the Cruciatus if used properly, as evidenced by his Shadows.
Why anyone would choose to follow someone who would torment them was beyond him. Frankly, he'd thought Abraxas smarter than that. At least he wasn't so blinded by Tom's power that he didn't see some of his faults.
"That means nothing to me," Hadrian assured, just to drive home the fact that his cousin needn't worry.
The Malfoy heir nodded understandingly. "Yes. You have never been very concerned with the social standing of people; though you are a Black and a Malfoy. That means something, you realize? There are some who are plainly below your notice, Hadrian. It's the order of things."
Hadrian waved him off. "Leave it, Brax. I simply don't care."
"Brax? You haven't called me that since we were six," the blond recalled, walking into step with him when Hadrian's stomach finally began to protest against the lack of food.
"Are you hoping for a resurrection?"
"Absolutely not." Abraxas cringed, looking and sounding appalled. "To be given such an uncouth moniker at this age would be the height of indignity."
Hadrian thought he was being a little melodramatic but didn't say so. Besides, he was too busy mulling over what he'd been so generously warned of.
He didn't think he'd fall for any of Tom's tricks, or become so smitten as to overlook his more unsavory qualities. Even so, there was a very distant part of him that had a few doubts. His earlier reaction to not being able to go to the Great Hall with Tom certainly didn't reassure him.
Dammit. This was why he didn't do relationships. (Whatever he called it in his head, that's basically what it was.) There were always these stupid insecurities that came along with it. Trying to keep it fun or telling himself it wasn't serious didn't help either.
000
It surprised Tom how easily they'd fallen into a new routine. So easily, in fact, that both he and Hadrian had shown up at the Room of Requirement on Saturday, even though their project had been complete.
Neither was forgetful, but it seemed their meetings were no longer being associated with their project. Since confirming where each stood with the other last Sunday, it had been all Tom could think of, and he suspected he wasn't alone in that regard.
The last meeting they should have had was on Thursday when all they had wanted to do on their project was finished. In comparison to the earlier work done on the Scrying Compass, altering it so the magical object mimicked a portkey was relatively easy. The whole process took only half of the time they'd set aside for work.
Tom handled the intricacies of seamlessly tying the portkey command into the compass without it interfering with the magic already at work. Hadrian cast the spell and tailored it so the portkey would activate when the compass found the destination. Then Tom joined him to add enough magic so that the portkey worked each time, no matter the place, and would accommodate an endless and ever-changing string of locations.
After, they put the finishing touches on the compass. Not wanting their professor or classmates to know how much magic and effort they had actually put into this, they concealed everything but the simplest of magic.
Throughout it all, Tom tried to maintain his professionalism. Somehow, he doubted he succeeded. He wasn't entirely to blame, though. Hadrian appeared to be having difficulty wholly concentrating on their work as well. That was reassuring, at least. It was good to know he wasn't the only one affected by this.
Still, it rankled how much influence this…thing between them seemed to have over him. He'd not imagined he would behave any differently, except that he could now act on any urge he had to touch the boy. Which, in retrospect, should have lessened now that he could, but it hadn't and he found he was even more tempted.
He felt that need especially so today, as they'd only just established their relationship—loath though he was to call it that—four days ago, and hardly seen much of each other outside of classes and public places the days before.
Not to mention, their usual Tuesday meeting had been canceled because the Heads of Houses had called an unscheduled and wholly irritating prefect meeting so they could lecture them on trying to help any pathetic, weak-willed student who'd been psychologically affected by the attack. Tom had been forced to waste two hours he could have spent with Hadrian getting briefed on how to handle sniveling students who were likely to approach him. Merlin help the fool who dared to seek him out for comfort.
Knowing they would be meeting this evening had held them back from trying to sneak in a moment unseen. That, and their pride, of course.
Tom refused to be led by his desires so he'd dared not initiate anything this prematurely. It certainly wouldn't do to appear desperate, or for Hadrian to know how affected he was by him. But tonight, when the desire bubbled just under the surface of his skin, overwhelmed his entire body, threatened to suffocate his every sense should he let it out, it proved to be difficult to act impervious.
The air around them was charged, as it tended to be when they were in the same room together. Every action of Hadrian's seemed to signal to his brain to inundate him with arousal he really could do without right now. When Hadrian's hair fell into his face, Tom's fingers itched to brush it aside, and the longing was so completely maudlin he fought not to act on it. The way he nibbled on his lower lip between his teeth made Tom positively ache with the need to take those lips into his own mouth, and, Merlin, wasn't that just beyond pathetic?
This was truly maddening. To think that he, Tom Riddle, could be so easily thwarted by teenage hormones.
To his credit, Tom managed to hold off until they'd finished working on their project.
"Finally, we're done," Hadrian announced once they'd completed everything in their plans. He turned to put the compass and their notes in Tom's bag.
Tom leaned back on the couch, crossing one leg over his knee and placing an arm on Hadrian's side of the sofa. "Yes," he agreed.
"I must admit I'll miss working on it, though," Hadrian commented. He looked over at him and smiled softly. "We make a pretty good team."
"Yes," Tom repeated absently.
Hadrian joined him in sitting more comfortably on the couch, his shoulders resting against Tom's arm. A clock appeared on the wall facing them, presumably at Hadrian's request because he remarked, "Ah, a full hour and thirty minutes early. Whatever shall we do with our free time?"
Tom chose to answer that with the only response he could currently even begin to conceive. Before, they would have instantly begun a duel, but, right now, neither was capable of thinking about anything beyond reacquainting their lips and tongue.
He snaked his arm around Hadrian's shoulders and pulled him close until their bodies were touching. He uncrossed his legs and angled his body slightly for better access, then leaned over to the pureblood. Hadrian pressed forward, wrapping a pleasantly warm hand around his neck, and tilted his head up to accommodate him.
Tom sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, coaxing him into a light kiss that had blood rushing to his head and doing strange things to his stomach. Hadrian's other hand gripped the front of his robes tightly. He jerked him forward to deepen the kiss, and Tom was made to forget the odd fluttering sensation and anything else that wasn't a purely physical reaction.
Then it was he who was being drawn into a warm mouth and tangling with a hot, wet tongue. He was aware of a barely audible moan, but couldn't tell if it had come from him or Hadrian. There was a low groan that he was sure belonged to Hadrian because it had the same effect as when he'd first heard it, and his erection swelled faster than he'd thought possible from kissing alone.
Striving to slow down before he got too excited, Tom took Hadrian's face into his hand, and alternated tactics with long, languorous swipes of his tongue to the roof, back, every crevice of his mouth. Hadrian grunted in approval, tightening his hold on his neck and meeting his leisurely assault with eager flicks.
But it wasn't enough to restrain him. He felt as though he were ablaze with desire. His skin itched with the need to claim and own. Tom had never wanted someone so much as he did Hadrian at that moment.
He placed his other arm around Hadrian's hips and waist, trying to get closer to his heat as he positioned them so their bodies could face one another better. Hadrian took it a step further. Cutting the kiss briefly short, one of his legs came off the seat and he swung it over Tom's legs until both of his knees were digging into the cushions and his thighs were pressing against Tom's hipbones on opposite sides.
And then Hadrian was straddling his lap and Tom's head was pushed back into the sofa, tilted up all the way as lips once again descended on his. He got some much-needed relief from his aching erection as Hadrian's was confined with his in the very small space between them. It took all of his effort not to let out his whimper when Hadrian slowly, agonizingly ground into him, creating a delicious friction that was absolute perfection and more.
Gods, that felt good. He could feel every single detail as though there were no clothes between them. The exact weight...the scorching heat...the throbbing hardness against his own...
The shortest thirty minutes of Tom's life passed like that, and, just when they were getting really into it, seconds away from fucking right there on the sofa—hands clawing to remove clothes, lips everywhere, hips rocking like a pair of animals in heat, room echoing their pants and moans, magic a hair's-breadth away from connecting—they were vexingly, infuriatingly, gallingly interrupted.
There was a soft knock on the door. Tom couldn't think of anyone who would have the audacity to bother them when they knew he was in here. Other than Alphard, of course. So help him if that was the insolent Black behind the door.
Hadrian pulled back to look down into his face, breath soft, pupils dilated, lips red, and not at all helping with Tom's efforts to bring down his arousal. Which was all right, because, suddenly, he very much didn't want to answer the door.
Tom ran his hands deliberately up the sides of his waist, down his chest, to his hips, never breaking eye contact. "Ignore it," he said lowly, licking a trail up his throat.
He fingered the band of Hadrian's drawers, then tread lower to trace the outline of his hard-on through the fabric. Hadrian gasped softly and bucked into his hand. Tom was unbearably hard in two seconds flat. The current accommodations weren't exactly desirable, but, at this point, there was nothing he cared less about. He'd been thinking about this for an immoderately long time.
He wrapped his hands around Hadrian's thighs, intending on lifting him off his lap, laying him onto his back on the sofa, and fucking him good and proper, but he never got the chance. Another knock came, this one insistent and loud and oddly scratchy, letting them know they couldn't disregard whoever was behind the door and hope they leave.
Hadrian sighed in frustration, sounding as displeased as Tom felt to be disrupted. There had better be a damned fire if the person on the other side of that blasted door wanted to survive beyond this day. Actually, he might decide to kill them out of sheer disgruntlement anyway.
Peeling his gaze away, Hadrian stood up off Tom's lap, took a second to will away his obvious erection, shrug back on and straighten his disheveled clothing, then made his way over to the door with enviable grace for one so aroused. Although Tom couldn't stand the thought of anyone besides himself feasting their eyes on Hadrian's delectably flushed and thoroughly-kissed appearance, he didn't get the chance to cast a spell to hide the evidence of what they'd been doing before the Slytherin was opening the large door.
Fortunately, it was not Alphard or even a person on the other side, but rather a snow-white owl that could only be Hadrian's. Said owl appeared to be impatient, apparently for having been made to wait fluttering her wings in the middle of the hallway with nowhere to go. She hooted indignantly at the sight of her owner but was instantly appeased when he held out his arm for her to gently land on.
Tom thought it ridiculous that he was able to read an owl's expressions, no matter how expressive that owl was.
"Sorry to make you wait, Hedwig," Hadrian apologized, stroking the top of her feathery head.
He turned around and walked back over to the couch. He sat beside Tom again, their thighs touching this time, and began to untie the letter attached to his owl's leg. "Let's see what you have for me," he hummed.
Hedwig, the owl, was staring at Tom through piercing, intelligent amber eyes that seemed to be sizing him up. Tom stared balefully in return, resenting her for disturbing them, and immediately felt foolish for engaging in a battle of wills with a bird, though she undoubtedly deserved the blame for his sexual frustration.
Hadrian noticed Tom gazing at his owl. "Oh, excuse me. I don't think you've had the chance to be formally introduced. Tom, this is my beautiful and very smart owl, Hedwig. Hedwig, meet Tom."
Tom gave him a look, one that clearly conveyed what he thought about being introduced to an animal. "Pleasure," he drawled sarcastically.
Hadrian laughed. "Don't give me that look. Hedwig understands more than you think," he bragged, sounding like a proud father. His owl hooted as though in agreement, and that only served to make the smug expression on his face even more so.
Tom wisely chose not to voice his skepticism, and watched instead as Hadrian unsealed his letter and silently read it. A number of emotions played across his face and were swiftly wiped off before Tom could make sense of them. When he was done, he folded the parchment into a small square and slipped it into his robe pocket, looking pensive.
"What's wrong? Have you received unwelcome news?" Tom asked, though he knew that couldn't be it. He was only interested to know what had butted in on their time together.
Hadrian blinked at him and shook his head. "No; it's from my father."
"Oh? Does he disapprove of your participation in the attack?" Tom curiously wondered.
He remembered the other Slytherins' parents' reactions to their children showing up in the paper for defending against the Dark Lord's attack. He'd been initially surprised that Hadrian hadn't gotten a response from his parents, but had figured that it took a while for an owl to get from France to Scotland.
He didn't expect much of an answer from him on the subject, however.
"No. Nothing like that," Hadrian replied, looking at Tom like he'd suggested something improbable. Then, in a surprising moment of candidness with the Head Boy (even if they were something more than friends now), he clarified, "He's just glad I'm all right. Mother was beside herself with worry when she saw the paper; father's asking after my health to put her at ease."
Tom's first thought was that Hadrian's parents were a couple of the strangest Dark pureblood parents he'd ever heard of. Not only were they apparently unperturbed that their son fought the Dark Lord both their families privately supported, all they seemed to be worried about in that whole equation was whether he was okay.
They certainly sounded like interesting people, though a bit soft if truth be told. When he'd bothered to picture Hadrian's father—if only for an instant after the man had been mentioned as being a Ward Mage—he'd had an image of a strict, short-haired, taller version of Hadrian himself.
He would have never imagined someone as disciplined, well-mannered, and capable as Hadrian to have been spoiled by anyone, let alone a man like that. Abraxas was the very definition of spoiled and he had received a letter that had made the pale boy paler yet for a couple of days.
"I'm sorry, Tom," Hadrian spoke, capturing his attention away from his musings, "but I must answer this."
"Yes, of course." Tom stood with him and grabbed his bag while the owl perched on the sofa arm flew to Hadrian's shoulder.
"I'll see you Saturday, then," said Hadrian once Tom had straightened and followed him to the door.
And, though Tom should have remembered then that they had nothing more to work on and thus had no reason to meet at their usual time, it had been the last thing on his mind. He'd been entirely focused instead on sharing one last kiss with Hadrian before they were to once again return to their performance.
Therefore, two days later found both boys back at the Room of Requirement and neither realized exactly what they'd done until they were standing in front of the door. While Hadrian found immense humor in the situation, Tom was only annoyed with himself for being so absentminded and easily distractible around the boy.
Hadrian looked over at his displeased expression. "Oh, come now, Tom. Lighten up," he urged, green eyes dancing with mirth. "It was an honest mistake."
Tom was prepared to turn around and head back to his room to do more productive things with his time, but Hadrian grabbed his arm before he could take a step. His fingers were warm where they touched him, and Tom was thankful he wasn't holding onto his wrist instead as his pulse skittered a beat. He crushed the response with unforgiving force, and went along when Hadrian pulled on his arm until Tom stood in front of him.
"Where are you running off to?" he asked, still more amused than the situation warranted. "You've no other obligations, do you?"
"Of course not. I foolishly set aside time for something we finished two days ago," Tom replied dryly. "I do, however, have things to attend to now that I've realized my blunder."
"Or," Hadrian prompted with that smile of his Tom had learned meant inspiration had struck, "we could use this to our advantage."
Tom examined the somewhat mischievous look on his face and the spark replacing the amusement in his eyes and quickly caught on. It was simple yet exactly what they needed at the time: being able to meet under the guise of working together. He was surprised he hadn't come up with it and that it had taken them accidentally happening upon it to find the solution to their problem. He would have if he hadn't allowed Hadrian to occupy his mind so.
Was this how it was going to be from now on? Was everything between them going to revolve around this change in their relationship? Was everything he did going to revolve around that?
Granted, it was a bit difficult to look at Hadrian without wanting to ravish him knowing he could now—it had been difficult before even—but that didn't mean it was okay for him to think of nothing else except that. So why was it that his prick seemed to rule his mind these days anytime the pureblood even remotely entered his thoughts or line of vision?
Hadrian released his arm and walked back and forth past the wall until the door appeared. Tom stepped in after him. He stopped in his tracks when he saw what the room looked like. Instead of the long sofa with the table in front of it that he'd gotten used to, or even the bed he'd have expected in its place, it was the familiar dueling stand they hadn't gotten a chance to use for a little over two weeks.
Either oblivious to Tom's well-hidden confusion or choosing to ignore it, Hadrian glanced over his shoulder at him. "Feel up for a duel?" he inquired lightly.
What? This was not what he'd expected to happen. Not a moment ago, Tom had thought he and Hadrian being around each other now while their relationship was fresh meant that they would be thinking of nothing short of the physical aspect of it. But Hadrian wanted to duel? Could it be that he was alone in this? Did Hadrian not suffer from the same affliction?
No. That couldn't be it. It didn't make the least bit of sense. Had that been the only thing on his mind, he wouldn't have neglected to remember that they had no reason to show up today to work on a finished project. As intoxicating as it was, dueling had never made them so forgetful.
Most days, Tom did not mind a duel, but on a list of things he wanted to do with—to—Hadrian this moment, it did not even factor in. He had been positive the dark-haired boy was as enthusiastic as he was about that, judging from how disappointed he'd been at having been interrupted on Thursday. He would have thought Hadrian would be just as eager to pick up where they had left off.
Tom, of course, did not and would not voice any of these thoughts to him. He instead schooled his features and accepted Hadrian's offer, moving to join him on the platform. He acted as though he noticed nothing strange about the Slytherin's proposal, and that he himself was looking forward to it.
Beneath the surface, Tom reflected that Hadrian was still an utter mystery to him. A few kisses and some heavy groping wouldn't suddenly change that. He could tell something had happened between their parting on Thursday and their coming together today to make Hadrian want to duel rather than engage in much more pleasurable acts for both parties involved.
What, Tom didn't get a chance to so much as contemplate. Hadrian promptly commenced the duel with a rather forceful curse that had his full attention. He let it go for now, knowing for a fact that he would figure it out given a little time and some thought. As complex as Hadrian was, there wasn't yet a problem that Tom had failed to solve.
Hardly a week into their…whatever it was, and Hadrian was already presenting him with a challenge. He'd thought things would change between them—though not how he would react to that change—and while some things had, most others were fundamentally the same. To be perfectly honest, he was glad for that. Sometimes it was good to be challenged, and he didn't want for Hadrian to become a bore.
000
Tom was getting suspicious. More like, Hadrian amended, he'd been suspicious since the week before, and was now likely at the stage where he was forming and discarding slightly more accurate theories. He didn't want to make the mistake of underestimating Tom's deductive abilities, but Hadrian still doubted he would come to the correct conclusion.
He'd probably figured out what Hadrian was doing almost immediately, though. He'd seen the look of realization on Tom's face when he'd suggested they duel for the second day in a row. And then there had been that glint in his eyes, as though his resolve to figure it out had just been strengthened. Yes, Hadrian was avoiding having sex with him—but why?
Why, indeed.
It was stupid, really. Hadrian himself couldn't believe he was even entertaining such a notion. There was a reason Tom would probably never figure it out, because even he knew him well enough to realize such concerns shouldn't have any place in Hadrian's head.
Except for the fact that they unfortunately did, and he couldn't unthink them now that the seed had been planted.
He had been prepared to have mind-blowing sex with Tom, because if their duels had been a prelude to anything, there was no question as to how good it was going to be. Then he'd remembered his track record with the people he had sex with. That is to say, it was not good.
Almost everyone he'd ever had sex with had ended up boring the hell out of him after. Not immediately after, of course, but they did eventually. Some, like Draco, if they had been interesting enough, lasted longer. Even then, however, they failed to hold his interest beyond the physical.
It was as though he'd only been with them for the sole purpose of getting to that point, and, when he conquered that, wanted to move on to the next challenge. He hadn't had the same feelings for those people starting out as he did for Tom, though. He'd also never wanted to have sex with anyone as badly as he did Tom—Thursday's intense session had proven that beyond a doubt—which made his endeavor to avoid doing so that much harder.
His real, genuine, yet utterly complicated feelings for Tom were what it all boiled down to. Anyone else and he wouldn't have cared as much, but he was alarmed and disquieted to learn that he desperately did not want to become bored with Tom.
Hadrian could acknowledge that even if he were to have sex with Tom, it was irrational of him to think he would soon tire of him. There were countless reasons that Tom excited him, and many of them had nothing at all to do with sex. After all, Voldemort had been plenty exciting and he'd never once thought of snake-face in that way.
Gross, now he had that image in his head.
Implausible though it may be, there was a small part of him that feared for that outcome. He couldn't, absolutely refused to go back to that time when he'd been nothing but an empty shell moving on autopilot.
Then again, he was no longer the same person so who was to say he would react the same way to a similar situation? Hadrian was nowhere near as much of an adrenaline junkie as Harry, even if he'd gotten increasingly restless with his life and had been more amenable to the merge.
Hadrian refrained from sighing aloud. Once again, Tom occupied his thoughts. He was practically all he thought about throughout the day, and it was very disconcerting. Worse, they were the kind of thoughts that had him evaluating his damn feelings and unearthing insecurities he would rather remain hidden.
He gratefully snapped out of his musings when Alphard plopped back down into his seat. His cousin placed the large book he'd stood up to search the library's Charms sections for in the middle of the table.
"Found it," he unnecessarily announced. "They put it in the most obscure place. I had to triple check every shelf."
Hadrian assumed he was explaining for his long absence. He hadn't noticed. He had gotten lost in his mind the moment Alphard had offered to go find the reference book they needed for their essay. He should have paid more attention, especially since Alphard was finally returning to the way he'd been around him before the attack.
Besides the fact that Alphard hadn't hung around after classes to walk with him last week or the first three days of this week, not too much had changed between them. Still, Hadrian had felt a great distance, as though his cousin had been pulling away emotionally, if not physically. Hence he'd been immensely glad when Alphard had come to him after classes with his old enthusiasm and asked if he wanted to do their homework in the library.
Hadrian had initially believed the other boy actually wanted to talk. He had instead been pleasantly surprised to find that Alphard was back to his usual carefree self and only wanted to spend time with him, and nothing else.
No more of those odd, wounded glances Alphard had kept sending his way, either. Seconds later and he would have given up trying to decipher what they meant and outright asked Alphard exactly what he'd done to deserve them. Whatever it was, it seemed Alphard had come to terms with it. That was good enough for him.
They hadn't sat together like this doing homework in a while, and Hadrian realized he had come to miss and value his cousin's friendship more than he'd thought.
Perhaps…perhaps he could tell just him about Tom. Only this one little secret which wasn't as important to keep as some of his other ones. He could trust Alphard not to tell anyone else if he expressly asked him not to. He knew he would never gossip about it.
Before Hadrian had made up his mind about whether or not to tell him, Alphard put his quill down and looked up at him. "I received a Howler from father," he shared suddenly, voice low.
They were in a table close to the back of the library with not many people near them. They weren't in any danger of being overheard, so there was really no need for Alphard to speak so quietly, but he sounded uncomfortable and Hadrian could tell it was difficult for him to speak about this. He kept silent and patiently waited for him to finish saying what he needed to.
"Of course, he had the owl deliver it when I was alone," Alphard continued. "He saw my photo in the paper—as did the rest of the family and all his friends, to his endless shame." He chuckled self-deprecatingly. "Another disappointment to add to a long list."
Hadrian couldn't remember a time when he'd wanted to curse Pollux Black more. "Don't listen to him, Alphard," he urged. "You did great. Protecting people in danger is not something to be ashamed of."
He knew it was only natural for Dark pureblood parents to react like this. In fact, he was fairly certain Abraxas had received a similar letter judging by the way he'd been uncharacteristically anxious afterward.
Hadrian should have realized that may have been what was bothering Alphard the past week. Pollux-bloody-Black's disappointment of him was nothing new, but Alphard had always been affected by it, and this time was no different.
"I'm not ashamed," Alphard defended. "Father doesn't see it that way, though. I wonder if the Dark Lord hadn't been behind the attack, would he have been less critical about it? It seems like disappointment is his default response nowadays."
Hadrian frowned. He hadn't known his cousin was hurting so. He'd never let on that things were this bad. He only had himself to blame, he supposed. He'd been entirely caught up in his own problems that he had been too selfish to notice what was right in front of him.
And he'd been seconds away from dumping more on Alphard and once again making it all about himself.
"Stop talking like that." Hadrian leaned forward in his chair. He stared resolutely into Alphard's eyes, and tried to convey his emotions through his own eyes. "Your father hasn't the faintest idea about who you are. That's his loss. There are other people who appreciate you exactly the way you are, Alphard. That paper was not wrong—you are a hero," he maintained, watching Alphard's face closely for his reactions. It looked as though it was working. "He may not be, but I'm proud of you, okay?"
Alphard's face split into a large smile that made his gray eyes glow with happiness. "You are?" he asked softly, like he couldn't believe such a thing.
Hadrian nodded, pleased to have brought that smile on Alphard's face. "Absolutely. Pureblood politics be damned, we kicked Grindelwald's arse."
Alphard stared at him with wide-eyed shock and disbelief. "Hadrian, you just swore," he breathed out in awe.
Hadrian laughed, knowing how unusual it must seem to Alphard for him to do something like that. "Yes, I'm aware."
"You never swear."
"Not out loud," Hadrian agreed.
Alphard's eyes widened further at that. "You've changed," he commented. Then, as though afraid he'd offended Hadrian, he quickly added, "Not in a bad way."
"That's good to know," said Hadrian, amused.
With a thoughtful expression, Alphard picked his quill back up and stooped low to his parchment, clearly mulling over things other than his essay. Hadrian, meanwhile, leafed through the book on the table, looking for more extensive information on the charm they had to write about.
A minute or two passed silently in their little corner of the library, and then Alphard interrupted it by asking one of the questions Hadrian knew every single one of his cousins had been wanting to since the attack, but had yet to.
"About the attack…" he prompted, pausing in his writing, "where did you learn to fight like that?"
Hadrian didn't have an answer that would satisfy him. He couldn't dodge this like he had the curiosity about his sudden interest in Quidditch back in September. A natural talent for flying could not compare to a concentrated effort to better one's dueling skills.
He went for giving him a version of the truth—from Hadrian's end, at least. "Surely you did not think my father only imparted his warding knowledge unto me?"
That alone, certainly, wouldn't have made him as good as he was now, but Alphard didn't need to know that.
Alphard, unpredictably, appeared to be taking his words with a little grain of salt. "I hadn't realized your father was a Dueling Master as well as a Ward Mage," he voiced slowly, tone slightly skeptical, which Hadrian found insulting, really.
"He's very adept," Hadrian said truthfully, perhaps a tad defensive in his father's behalf.
Alphard shook his head, a crooked grin on his face. "Somehow, I find that hard to believe," he admitted wryly. "I'm learning something new about you every day. I wouldn't put it past you to have taken whatever your father taught you and advanced it on your own. Did your father teach you that Patronus Charm as well?"
Hadrian was taken aback. Where was this sudden intuitive side of Alphard coming from? Had he been noticing more of the changes the merge had caused in Hadrian than he'd let on?
Hadrian chuckled good-naturedly. "All right," he faux-conceded, "a fair amount of it was self-taught."
Alphard seemed satisfied. "That's what I thought," he declared triumphantly.
Hadrian did not wish for him to dwell on the subject for long, but it wasn't too hard to change it. "I believe you mentioned an appointment you must keep with Noah?" he reminded. He stood to his feet to incite Alphard into moving.
Alphard's head swiveled to his right to glance at the clock on the wall. "Oh, you're right. I'd forgotten," he said, moving swiftly to put his things into his bag, closing it, and swinging it over one shoulder. "I'm almost late."
Hadrian led the way to the front of the library and out the door. "How's it going with you and Noah?" he asked as his cousin fell into step with him.
The expression on Alphard's face was, strangely enough, halfway between discontent and a grimace, or, rather, a forced-looking smile.
"Good," he said. "It's going good."
Hadrian frowned at the lackluster response and enthusiasm. "What's the matter? Do you not like him?" he asked uncertainly.
How did he not know this? He'd never actually asked Alphard that or allowed him to voice his feelings, he realized. He'd been pushing his cousin toward the Hufflepuff and coercing him when he should have been listening.
To his temporary relief, Alphard shook his head quickly. "No," he stated, avoiding looking over at Hadrian. "What makes you say that?"
"Well, for one, you've never before said whether you do or not," said Hadrian, recognizing that the gray-eyed boy was skirting around the question.
"I went on a date with him, didn't I?" Alphard continued to hedge, finally looking over at him.
They came upon the tapestry hanging in the center of the corridor and moved it aside to get to the narrow staircase it concealed.
Hadrian rolled his eyes as they descended the stairs, not forgetting to jump over the trick step in his preoccupation. "Which was interrupted before it really began," he noted. "I'd hardly call that a 'date.'"
"We're meeting now," Alphard countered. "It's kind of a date."
Hadrian glanced at him, wondering why he was being so argumentative and wouldn't just answer the question. "Does he see it that way?" he asked curiously.
"Of course. He suggested it; something about how much he loved the cold and was looking forward to going outside. He even hopes it snows today." Alphard looked as though he were barely containing the urge to roll his eyes and ask, "How weird is that?"
Hadrian sort of understood where he was coming from. He couldn't fathom loving the cold, or ever wanting snow. But this was something Alphard should have found charming, not odd. Heck, he hated being cold and he found it endearing.
Choosing not to address that, Hadrian clarified, "He suggested it? Not you?" At his cousin's shake of the head, he remarked, "He was the one who first decided to ask you out to Hogsmeade, wasn't he? Why is it now he's the one who must once again ask you for a make-up date?
"You do realize bringing him flowers when he's ill isn't enough? Otherwise he will think you aren't interested in him the way he is in you." He wasn't exactly an expert on relationships himself—far from it—but he was on a roll. "Are you?"
Alphard lifted an inquisitive brow. "Am I what?" he asked.
"Interested in him?" Hadrian elaborated, feeling as though it had been obvious and he really shouldn't have to repeat this question. How hard was it to say if you liked someone or not?
Alphard shrugged. "I didn't say I wasn't. I don't see why he would get that impression when I agreed to each date he wanted."
Hadrian abruptly came to a stop the moment they reached the staircase on the second floor that led to the first. He tugged his cousin by the shoulder and made him stop in front of him. Alphard's brows furrowed in confusion at this unexpected move.
"Why do you insist on eluding my question?" Hadrian asked, calling on his patience to keep from getting frustrated. "Do you like Noah?" he carefully enunciated.
"Why do you need to know so badly?" Alphard wasn't doing as good a job reining in his frustration. He actually seemed visibly upset about Hadrian's deep interest.
"I would like to know if you're doing this because you want to or because I pushed you into it. I know it may have seemed like I didn't care for your opinion earlier, and I apologize, but I would appreciate knowing I didn't pressure you into going out with someone you don't actually like," Hadrian confessed, repentant.
Alphard sighed and brought up a hand to anxiously fidget with the hair at the nape of his neck. "You didn't pressure me. Since when have you known me to go along with something I didn't want to? Please don't worry needlessly," he advised, smiling reassuringly at him.
Hadrian stared at him. He waited for him to finally tell him whatever feelings he had for Noah, but nothing came. This was getting ridiculous. Alphard was purposely not telling him. What the hell?
"Merlin," Hadrian swore under his breath. "You don't, do you? How can you ask me not to worry when you've made it abundantly clear that this decision was not of your own choosing?"
Alphard frowned heavily. "That's not true!" he exclaimed, hands now fists at his sides. "I chose to go out with him. You did not 'make' me! How could you have?"
"Then just tell me you're doing it because you like him and for no other reason!"
Briefly, it seemed like a rejoinder was going to come out of Alphard's lips, but he shut his mouth and heatedly turned away from him. Hadrian watched in astonishment as his cousin hastily descended the stairs, and then continued walking without waiting for him.
Hadrian snapped out of his stunned stupor, and went after him. He jogged to catch up with him down the corridor, baffled as to what had caused this impassioned reaction.
"Alphard!" he called. "Alphard, hold on a second!"
Alphard paused mid-step and pivoted on his feet. His unwelcoming expression softened when he looked at Hadrian. "Look, I didn't mean to run off. I'm sorry. But I really don't want to talk about this anymore," he stressed.
Hadrian wished he could simply drop it, if only because it was causing Alphard such grief. But that wasn't really an option at this point. His cousin was being unnecessarily difficult about something that honestly shouldn't have been, and it was obvious to Hadrian that he needed to discuss it, even if he didn't know it himself.
"Alphard, you aren't making any sort of sense," Hadrian told him. "Just talk to me."
Alphard's eyes narrowed angrily for a second before he hurriedly wiped all expression from his face. "Hadrian, I no longer wish to talk about Noah," he said rigidly, more forcefully. He glanced in the direction of where the main marble staircase was further down the corridor, and added, "I believe here is where we part ways. Noah must be waiting for me in the Entrance Hall."
Hadrian wrapped his hand loosely around his bicep before he had a chance to move. "Why is it this is so hard for you?" he asked softly. "Am I asking too much here? It's a straightforward yes or no, Alphard. Frankly, I find your reluctance worrying."
There was a tautness to Alphard's body that made it seem as though he were trying not to shake. Hadrian could feel very slight tremors under his hand, and was alarmed by the amount of emotion his cousin was holding back. He hadn't known it was this much of a sore topic for him.
"I told you not to. This isn't as big a deal as you're making it out to be," Alphard said evenly, as though each word were being forcibly pulled through his teeth. "Why are you trying to rush us along, anyway? We hardly know one another; I can't be expected to express whatever feelings I may or may not have after one date, which you yourself said did not count as one."
Hadrian released his arm and gave them a little distance. "I apologize if it seemed like I was rushing you. That was not my intention," he said regretfully.
He then ploughed on in a manner that contradicted what he'd just said and that Alphard would probably find belligerent. "I suppose I wrongly assumed you might have any opinion by now. You don't have to profess love for him or anything else so serious. I would only like to know that you at least enjoy his company."
"Yes! Yes, I do," Alphard retorted hotly. "Are you satisfied now so that I may leave?"
Hadrian smiled slyly. Yes, he was very satisfied. "Then you have gotten to like him. Good to know," he concluded victoriously.
Alphard huffed furiously. "Merlin, I never said that!" he cried with great exasperation. He carried on with a growl, "You really want to know?"
"Clearly," said Hadrian.
"Noah is nice and all, but he's not the one I'm interested in," Alphard explained in a slow, measured tone, like he had a very thin hold on his ire. He watched Hadrian with an intensity that he'd never before seen.
Well, he had suspected as much, but he didn't understand why Alphard would go out with Noah if he didn't like him. As he'd said, he wasn't the type to do what he didn't want to, or who was shy about speaking his mind. Thus, if for whatever reason, he didn't want to confess to this person he supposedly liked, he shouldn't have had any problem turning Noah down.
Hadrian wanted to rile him up into finally telling him who this mystery person was. Wearing the most ingenuous expression, he asked, "I don't understand. Are you saying this so that I might cease questioning you?"
There seemed to be a storm cloud hanging over Alphard's face at these words. Hadrian had never had such anger directed towards him from his cousin, and he was a little unsettled at this change in him.
Alphard threw his hands up in aggravation. "You just don't get it!" he shouted.
Hadrian only had a passing second to speculate what he did not get before Alphard was stalking the couple of feet forward to invade his personal space. And then he was grabbing him and leaning in to plant his lips decisively onto his.
Hadrian completely froze. His mind went blank, except for: What. The. Fuck.
000
Alphard was moving before he'd registered what he was doing. It was like he had no control over his own body.
Suddenly, he was pulling his cousin towards him, and kissing him full on the lips. Then he really did lose control over his body because he was kissing more firmly now, unbidden. Hadrian's lips were soft and warm, exactly as he had imagined them, and it was what he'd always wanted. He moaned. It was so fucking good. He was distantly aware that Hadrian wasn't responding, but that knowledge failed to penetrate his conscious mind.
After what felt like the longest and shortest instant, it wasn't Hadrian who pushed him away and ended the one-sided kiss as Alphard might have expected if he'd given it a thought. It was the loud gasp that echoed in the hallway.
Coming back to himself and realizing just what he'd done, Alphard let Hadrian go almost violently and stepped back. He stared at his cousin, eyes wide and terror-stricken. His heart stopped beating for an inordinately long amount of time, he was so fearful of the emerald-eyed boy's reaction.
The look on Hadrian's face was utter shock, but he wasn't directing it at him. Following his gaze, Alphard turned his head to his left to stare down the hall at—gods no, no, no—Noah. The Hufflepuff was standing beside the grand stairs to the Entrance Hall, face stricken with absolute devastation.
Shit. Shit. Something hot and tight coiled in his stomach and it was all Alphard could do not to vomit all over the floor from self-disgust.
He was stunned into inaction, though Hadrian didn't suffer from the same problem. He started walking down the corridor at a strangely subtle rapid pace, calling Noah's name placatingly, as though speaking to a small, cornered animal.
Noah backed away, expressions of betrayal and anguish warring for control over his face. The second he backed into the top step, he spun around and wildly ran down the flight of stairs.
Hadrian abandoned his slow approach, full out sprinting now to yell after the boy, "Noah! Noah!"
His shouts went unheard, although each one was like a sharp lash against Alphard's cheeks, reminding him of what he had very stupidly done. He wished more than anything that he possessed a time turner. He would go back to before he asked Hadrian to the library. Hell, he would go back to any time before now.
He had thought he was ready to face him again knowing he was with Tom now. Oh, how vastly wrong he'd been. Just sitting across from him hurt, and pretending everything was normal was even worse. He had tried—he had. Really, really hard.
But then Hadrian had to bring up Noah. He might have been able to get through the evening if not for that. No amount of brushing it off had worked either. For once, his vague responses to Hadrian's inquiries pertaining to Noah hadn't been enough to satisfy him. And he kept pushing and pushing until Alphard couldn't take it anymore.
Hadrian's attention was back on him, and Alphard's heart beat so fast in his chest he was amazed it didn't burst out of his ribcage.
"How could you do that?!" Hadrian snarled, angry strides propelling him towards Alphard at a brisk speed. "What in the world were you thinking?!"
Alphard forbore from saying 'I wasn't,' though that would have been the truth. "I-I'm sorry," he stuttered, breath caught in his throat. "I'm really sorry, Hadrian. I didn't mean to."
"You didn't mean to kiss me? Do you make a habit of kissing all your male cousins like that?!" Hadrian snapped.
Merlin...fuck. He was so much madder than he had anticipated. This was not the Hadrian he knew. Even when he was mad, he seemed more hurt than anything. This was all just spitting anger.
Alphard was distastefully close to tears. Shit, he so did not want to cry right now. That Hadrian could be this mad at him—perhaps even hate him—hurt a thousand times worse than Tom's pain curse, which hurt. He blinked several times to bat away the tears threatening to materialize.
"No," he whispered, head lowered to hide the oncoming wetness behind his eyes, dearly wishing he could melt into the ground. "I…I'm sorry. I would take it back if I could."
Hadrian sighed loudly. Alphard glanced up to see him agitatedly running his hands through his hair. He appeared to be attempting to temper his anger. Hope blossomed in Alphard's chest at this gesture. Maybe Hadrian could someday forgive him, though he wouldn't blame him if he never wanted to speak to him again.
"I get that you're sorry. But it's not me you have to apologize to," said Hadrian, staring at Alphard with a more recognizable look in his green eyes than the fire that had been in them earlier. "You really hurt Noah. Have you any idea how much he likes you?"
Alphard knew—every time the sixth year gazed at him with that look in his eyes. The same look he himself had been giving Hadrian when he started liking him, back when they had been no older than twelve and he had returned from Hogwarts for the summer after having spent almost an entire year completely apart from him for the first time.
But now he gave him a different look. Alphard knew that he had hurt Noah, but the boy wasn't in love with him, and he would get over it soon. He didn't like him nearly as much as Alphard loved Hadrian; had loved for the longest time.
He did not think he could get over this rejection from Hadrian quite as well as Noah would the inadvertent rejection from him. Alphard had kissed him and even that didn't seem to be the main thing his cousin was choosing to focus on.
"Yes, I do," Alphard said softly. "I will apologize to him as soon as I see him."
"Good. That's good," Hadrian said. Relief shone through his voice, as though he thought himself culpable in this somehow. As though he'd had a hand in hurting Noah.
Alphard frowned heavily. He could have kicked himself. Angering Hadrian was—all right, not good, but making him feel guilty was the absolute lowest. "You are not at fault. You didn't hurt Noah; I did," he insisted.
"I doubt he will see it so objectively. To him, I am the person who kissed the guy he likes," Hadrian commented, smiling ruefully.
Alphard swallowed nervously at the reminder. He desperately did not want to bring it up, but they had to address the one thing they were evading. He could lie, even. Make up a different reason for having kissed him, one that definitely did not include divulging he'd been in love with his cousin since before Hadrian's fourteenth birthday.
It wouldn't work, of course. Hadrian was too smart to fall for something like that. But anything was better than the alternative.
"About that, I—"
"I can't, Alphard. I can't talk about that," Hadrian interjected urgently, shaking his head back and forth, as though in denial about what Alphard had done not ten minutes ago. "Not now, at least. I need to just…think."
"Oh. I understand," Alphard said dejectedly.
This wasn't going well. Being mad was one thing, but being so uncomfortable that Hadrian refused to talk? Alphard would have preferred getting yelled at rather than easily dismissed.
He knew he had no right to be so despondent, and tried not to let show how much he was. He was the one who had wrecked everything, after all. Not only was Hadrian with Tom—who had the benefit of not being family to him—but he was also very fond of Noah. If he had ever planned on telling Hadrian how he felt, which, for the record, he hadn't, this was the worst way he could have possibly done it.
Hadrian composed himself, purebred poise coming to his rescue, and nodded in acceptance. "All right. Permitting he hasn't gone to his common room, I shall go find Noah and…" He trailed off, evidently uncertain of what he would say to the Hufflepuff when he did find him. "…Talk to him," he finished unsurely.
"Okay," said Alphard simply, unwilling to push this tentative peace.
Hadrian watched him silently for a long moment while Alphard tried not to squirm, then he swung about and walked off down the corridor with such fluid grace, Alphard was unable to tell from his gait that he'd ever been ill at ease.
Alphard didn't move until he couldn't see him anymore, when he rounded the corner to the staircase.
Then he let the tears he no longer cared to hide trail down his face one at a time. He finally let all the pain and frustration and guilt and desperation and heartache that brought more damn pain come pouring out. And then his cheeks were wet with them, and crying was so fucking useless because it wasn't lessening the hole in his heart, but he couldn't fucking stop!
Poor Alphard. He got so beaten down in this chapter. I hated doing that to him, but it had to be done. (Expect more in the next chapter.) :(
This part is just some of what was supposed to be included in the monstrosity that is the previous chapter so the other parts will be in the next chapter (namely, the conclusion to Alphard's transgression), which should be out in about 2 weeks. I know my promises don't hold much stock anymore (sorry about that), but that is something I can guarantee. I have almost the entire chapter (all 15K words of it and counting) written out.
I hope that satisfied those of you who asked about Abraxas; I had that planned for a while and I wasn't sure I would be able to squeeze it in—demonstrates his humanity, I guess. I know I haven't shown much of him, but he's not that important until later, or in comparison to some characters. For those of you who've inquired about Dumbledore and what he thinks of Hadrian or his view of what's happening: to put some of your curiosity to rest, I want you to know that I have not forgotten about him. In fact, Dumbledore knows more than you'd think. I mean, c'mon, since when has he been able to keep his crooked nose out of people's business? He'll make his official appearance in chapter 13 (if everything goes according to the outline, which is not a guarantee, obviously).
Same goes for Hadrian's parents because I know some of you will think their response to the paper was not right. So let me just tell you now that I know it was odd and I did that deliberately because those two are not as oblivious as they'd like you to believe when it comes to what's going on with their son! Much more on them in chapter 12.
Many thanks to everyone who advised me on Reiniger and gave me suggestions for an alternative! You've helped me immensely, even though it's a little overwhelming. It's a lot harder than I thought it would be to make up my mind on the final name. But I'm currently leaning toward Blutjäger (blood hunter), suggested to me by a lovely person who PM'd me (whose name I'm unsure if they'd want revealed). I think it sounds pretty cool. Plus it rather fits, don't it? Technically, they do hunt those they perceive have "dirtier" blood. What do you guys think of it? And please let me know how to pronounce it. My German is very nonexistent. Thanks again!
Edited: 5/18/13