I'm once again very, very late with this chapter, and I apologize. I got busy again, had guests, went on vacation, lived for a brief time in real life, etc. Hopefully you're all pleased with this chapter; although it seems like a lot of filler, I promise there is a purpose for it.
Also, everyone should send a big mental thanks to whichever anonymous reviewer was "Too lazy to sign in" but reviewed all nine previous chapters a few weeks ago. Said reviewer was a big inspiration to me to finish the chapter up, though it took me quite a bit of time to nitpick it to my satisfaction. To that reviewer, I give this message: I never, ever, ever get bored of reading reviews. :) Thus, you now have an update. Ta, everyone!
Chapter 10
Hadrian woke the next morning to find late morning sun streaming through his windows. He guessed the time to be around half six, and was about to go back to sleep when someone interrupted.
"Young master is awake."
The little scratchy voice that came from the foot of Hadrian's bed doubtless belonged to a house elf.
"What do you-"
Before he could finish his question, the little elf disappeared with a small pop, leaving Hadrian alone. He was about to sink back into sleep again when his door opened and two men stepped in. One of them wore the official gray robes of a healer in his father's army. The other was, of course, his father.
The healer stepped up to his bed and, without hesitation, began to examine him, waving his wand in a diagnostic pattern.
"How do you feel this morning, Hadrian?" The words, shockingly, had not come from the healer.
Hadrian leveled a stare at his father. "Absolutely dandy."
"Hmm. I'm sure."
The healer shined a lit wand in Hadrian's eyes before stepping away. "He's recovering more quickly than I had anticipated. He's already recovered above half strength, although he may still experience some physical weakness."
The Dark Lord nodded in acceptance. "Good. Leave us." The healer quickly scurried off at his master's dismissal.
"So is there any chance I'm off punishment, now that I've been bedridden for a bit?"
His father raised an eyebrow. "What about your actions makes you think you deserve to be released? You disobeyed me, and risked your life and magic to do so. I would call that the definition of acting improperly."
Hadrian said nothing. Put like that, he supposed his request was rather hopeless. Part of him was still puzzling over the new and absurd idea that his father did not want him dead.
"Well, what do you want, then?"
"Patience is a virtue, Hadrian," the Dark Lord replied, drawing a disbelieving look from Hadrian. "But I suppose your freedom is not as far off as I implied. I am here to make you an offer, of sorts."
Hadrian raised an eyebrow. "An offer?"
"I'm gathering the Death Eaters at Obscurus tonight, and I want you to attend. Prove to me that you can behave yourself there, and I will allow you to return to your normal living arrangements."
It sounded too simple. Hadrian's eyes narrowed. "What's the catch?"
The Dark Lord lips turned into something resembling a grin. "So suspicious, Hadrian. Of course, I expected nothing less. Surprisingly, there is no catch. Obviously, I will expect you to follow rules and behave decently once you are released. Otherwise, we return to square one."
"And if I choose not to attend?"
"Then, the moment you are returned to full strength, you will be returned to my study, and we will continue where we left off before your farce of a duel with your brother."
Hadrian considered. He wasn't sure he trusted his father with this sudden, mysterious 'offer,' but even if he wasn't released, he would be no worse off than he was currently.
"Fine. We have a deal."
His father grinned. "Excellent. I trust you are able to stand, now?"
Hadrian scowled, not wishing to be reminded of his current weakness. He tossed back the sheets that covered him and swung himself out of bed in one swift movement. The sudden change of position brought on a slight dizziness that made him stumble.
"Steady," his father's voice said, and Hadrian felt a hand on his shoulder, supporting him. He tried to shrug it off, but it refused to move.
"I'm fine," Hadrian insisted hotly, even as he stumbled again. "I don't need your help."
That infuriating, mocking grin had returned to the Dark Lord's face. "Certainly not. I'll return for you at eight o' clock. Until then, you are not to leave your rooms." Without waiting for a word of confirmation, the Dark Lord swept out of the room.
Hadrian pinched the bridge of his nose, breathing deeply. It was only a few more hours, he assured himself. A few more hours, and then he'd be able to turn his attention to more important things...like getting out of the manor.
Satisfied, Hadrian started for the bathroom, intending to take a long, hot shower.
True to his word, the Dark Lord appeared in Hadrian's room at exactly eight o' clock. Hadrian, not wanting to push his luck, had resentfully obeyed his father and remained in his room, reading another book about magical tracking and concealment.
"It is nearly time," the Dark Lord announced, and Hadrian nodded, setting his book down on a table.
"Before we leave, I would like to remind you of the rules of behavior at this engagement. You are to keep whatever interactions you have with others tonight civil, at the least, particularly those involving your aunts or uncles. Yes, that does include Bellatrix. And, should you need to speak to me, you will address me by my title or as 'Father', and not in that typical, disdainful tone you use when doing so."
Hadrian had a sudden urge to back out on the whole thing. He normally didn't like to speak to his father at all, if he could help it, but to have to choose between calling him 'my Lord' or 'Father' with any sort of sincerity or politeness was an incredibly offensive idea.
"Do you understand?"
Perhaps he could simply avoid speaking to his father? Hadrian looked at the expectant Dark Lord and reminded himself why he was doing this in the first place. Finally, he nodded his acquiescence.
"Good." Almost before he could react, Hadrian was tugged into his father's side and apparated away.
They appeared in an antechamber to what Hadrian knew was the central gathering room of Obscurus.
"You do know that I am capable of apparating on my own?" Hadrian asked calmly.
The Dark Lord smirked. "I like to ensure that you appear at the correct destination," he replied. Hadrian nearly snorted.
"Come, we are late already." And again, Hadrian resisted the urge to snort derisively. Everyone knew that whatever time the Dark Lord arrived was 'on time.'
The Dark Lord stepped through the door into the room, Hadrian following close behind. The low chatter which had risen up in the Dark Lord's absence died immediately at the sight of him. Around the room, Death Eaters sank to their knees before their master.
Hadrian, observing all of this from slightly behind his father, was hit with a moment of pleasant disorientation. Of course, he was no stranger to his father's ability to quiet a rabble, but he was normally on the other end of the spectrum, hidden amongst the subservient mob with one of his tutors or a trusted uncle. Standing so close to his father, he could almost imagine that the crowd was bowing to him.
"Rise, my faithful," the Dark Lord, and the mass obeyed.
As his father continued to speak, Hadrian's eyes roamed about the room, observing the faces that were turned towards his father with rapt attention, some even with reverent awe. For a few of the more avid followers, it was as though a god had taken form on earth and condescended to speak to them. Of course to some of these, Hadrian realized, his father was something of a deity. Patron of the Dark Arts, supporter of pure-blood supremacy, descendent of the great Salazar Slytherin...he was the embodiment of everything they valued and worshipped.
His roaming gaze stopped as he recognized a face in the crowd. There, standing between Draco Malfoy and Rodolphus Lestrange, was a scowling Domitian. His eyes, unlike those of everyone else in the gathering hall, were locked on Hadrian, standing behind their father. Hadrian had a sudden, childish urge to wave, or stick out his tongue. He controlled it, however, and settled for a very slight smirk and a raised eyebrow instead. At this, Domitian's scowl became even more pronounced. Hadrian knew, perhaps better than anyone, how much Domitian would have given to be standing where he was now, close behind their father as the Dark Lord addressed his faithful followers. Hadrian knew because, once upon a time, he had wished for such a thing as well. He hadn't thought of it for quite a while, however.
Suddenly there was movement again, and Hadrian realized that his father must have finished speaking. He turned and started for the wall, but his father's hand around his arm stopped him.
"Stay close, Hadrian," he whispered, and Hadrian knew he had no choice but to comply.
Every eye in the room seemed to follow him. At first he though it more likely that they were following his father, but the curious whispers and pointing fingers seemed to indicate otherwise. All of the lower Death Eaters gazed at him with wonder, as thought they'd never seen him before. Whispers seemed to fly around the room. Even the eyes of the inner circle followed him with interest, although he'd thought it was common knowledge now, at least among them, that he was being monitored. Unless they were looking at him because of the duel? Wouldn't it be amusing if word of that incident had gotten out, and his father chose to punish someone for the slip? But it wouldn't matter, because they would all know already how weak Domitian had been in comparison to him.
It seemed that, at some point during his musing, Hadrian's father had finally released the vice-like grip on his arm and walked on, unintentionally leaving Hadrian behind. As tempted as Hadrian was to simply wander off, he knew that he had better find his father again before–
"Where do you think you're going?"
Hadrian turned to find Domitian behind him.
"I fail to see how that should matter to you at all," Hadrian shot back. "In fact, I'm surprised that they even managed to scrape you off of the floor and get you here standing after our duel."
Domitian scowled. "Right, like you were much better off. Casting a dark curse on Father? How much stupider can you get?"
"Oh, I don't know. I think I could manage something a bit more incredible, since he didn't let me die this time."
"He should have," Domitian muttered. "You're bloody worthless, after all."
"He doesn't seem to think so," Hadrian returned.
If it was possible, Domitian's glare deepened. "Why couldn't you just stay in the bloody shadows where you belong?" he hissed.
It both puzzled and pleased Hadrian that his brother was so worked up over their father's new awareness of him. "I never asked for attention, Domitian, but I'll accept it if he chooses to bestow it. It's not my fault you never learned to share the spotlight."
"Ha! He chooses? You're tricking him, we both know it! He's never cared a speck about you until a few weeks ago, and now he won't bloody stop! You must've done something to him."
Hadrian smiled. If Domitian was this upset, he must really be feeling neglected. Obviously, their father normally devoted much more attention to Domitian than he had since Hadrian's punishment. "Let me get this straight. You're suggesting that the Dark Lord who had inspired fear in all of Europe, has been hoodwinked? And by me, nonetheless?"
Domitian seemed desperate now, knowing he was grasping at straws. "It has to be! It's not bloody fair!"
"You want to talk about fairness?" Hadrian hissed. "How was it fair, Domitian, when I outscored you in every one of our tests, and Father only ever praised you? How was it fair that I have always worked twice as hard as you, and everyone only ever sees 'Domitian, the True Chosen Heir'? How is it fair that I do all the work, and you get all the credit? You want fair? You had better hope I don't decide to make things fair before our next birthday, Domitian, because I'm the one who deserves everything you're going to get."
The bulkier twin went his customary shade of white at the threat. "You wouldn't! Father wouldn't let us kill each other, you know it!"
"Are you sure about that, Domitian?" Hadrian asked quietly, raising an eyebrow.
He turned and slipped away through the crowd before Domitian could find any words to reply.