Enjoy darlings~

Hadrian's back was straight as he walked away, leaving Bella deserted on the dance floor, unconcerned at how it could be perceived as insulting. There was a strange buoyancy to his steps as he went, the same one the boy had had all night.

Voldemort tracked Hadrian's progress, eyes pinned to the base of the other's neck. He watched, bemused as Hadrian seamlessly re-joined the company of young Draco and his peers. The boy integrated himself into their conversation smoothly, steadily ignoring the stares he was attracting from around the room.

He had known that Hadrian would not make this easy by any means. He had expected nothing less from the boy, after all. The calm front, the confidence, the arrogance – all of it was a mere mask, a finely made coat that Hadrian donned as protection.

He had expected all of it to be on show tonight. What he had not expected, was that it might not be a ruse.

His eyes narrowed sharply as he took in the loose way Hadrian held himself. The way his throat arched as he laughed at something someone said.

There was no sign of his fiery anger. No hint of the worry and fear that should be eating him alive. Other than the small flashes of unease and frustration that Bella had managed to coax out during their dance, Hadrian seemed to be unaffected by everything that had happened.

Doubt began to prickle under his skin and he briefly wondered if he had miscalculated something along the line.

But no. He had been sure. Hadrian had been reacting as he had predicted so far, and while the boy was skilled, he was not yet good enough to outmanoeuvre him.

The tension in his shoulders released as his assurance grew. He was certain that underneath that veneer of composure was a tempestuous sea of rage.

From where she still stood on the dance floor, Bella's head rotated towards him, her large eyes filled with a single question. He nodded slightly, and a pleased smile curled at the edges of her mouth. She moved into the crowd, on the hunt for Lucius.

Voldemort took a breath and closed his eyes as he reigned in the delight that seared through him. In just a few short hours he would finally have exactly what he wanted. The knowledge of his impending success was as rich as wine.

"Am I boring you, Lord Voldemort?" His current companion asked coyly, clearly done with being ignored. He reluctantly shifted his attention back to Simone Lécuyer.

"Of course not, Minister." He said smoothly. "Forgive my inattention."

She smiled at him, amused and knowing in a way that irritated him. Her flute glass tipped in his direction. "There is nothing to forgive," she said. "I find these talks dull as well, especially when there are more enjoyable things to be doing, yes?"

Her eyes darted off to the side pointedly, acting as a prompt. Voldemort followed her gaze to where Hadrian stood, speaking animatedly with Lucius' ward.

He looked back to Lécuyer and cocked an eyebrow, suspicion and intrigue blooming in his mind. Her smile widened the longer he refused to raise to her bait. Finally, she huffed a laugh. "Let us put aside the subtleties for a moment." She said, shifting into a more casual stance, her weight to one side and her arms folded in front of her stomach. The light caught on her earring as she tilted her head at him.

"You have a particular interest in my champion." She began, brazen and unapologetic in her approach. "I would like to know why."

His hands, carefully held behind his back, clenched momentarily. Normally, he enjoyed the occasional burst of boldness in his interactions. The spark was always so fun to play with before he inevitably smothered it. But this was one instance where he would have preferred otherwise. Annoyance rippled in his chest.

"Mr. Evans is an accomplished wizard." He answered.

Lécuyer dipped her head. "He is. And you have a habit of, shall we say, 'collecting' talented people." Her smile turned sheepish. "Am I in danger of losing him?" It was said in jest, but there was a thread of warning in her tone; and Voldemort begrudgingly acknowledged that she knew how to play this game well.

He matched her smile with one of his own. "I think he would miss France too much." And was that not a bitter truth, that there would always be one part of Hadrian that was forever hanging just out of reach. His love of France was a powerful thing, despite the very real fact that Britain was his true home.

It burned in many ways, that come the end of the tournament, the boy would flock back to France with the rest of his classmates.

There was nothing he could do to stop that, he knew – short of locking Hadrian in a room – but there were other means of ensuring he remain connected to the child.

He artfully dodged Lécuyer's searching gaze, focussing back on the subject of their conversation. As he watched, Lucius approached the boy, greeting the group of children pleasantly before focussing on Hadrian.

It was time to move.

"If you'll excuse me, Minister. I have other matters to attend to."

Lécuyer studied him for a beat before nodding politely. Her intense scrutiny fell away, and a more respectful light overtook her face. "Of course, Lord Voldemort. I am afraid I must depart anyway."

Surprise flickered in him. It was barely midnight. "Such an early evening, Minister?" He asked, half-turned back towards her.

A shadow appeared in her eyes, for all that her expression was good-humoured. "I am not as young as I once was. I leave the late-night celebrations to the ones that can appreciate them. I do hope you have a good night." She bobbed her head in a bow before walking off.

Voldemort stared after her, resolving to have someone look into Lécuyer's affairs once again. There was something more going on with the woman, and it never hurt to know what, exactly, his allies were up to.

But for now, he had something far more important to do.

OoO

The boy followed him quietly. So much so, that more than once Lucius was compelled to look over his shoulder just to see if he was there at all.

But without fail, each glance revealed Evans – Potter – trailing after him obediently. There was a troubling sort of ease to his movements, and only bland curiosity in his eyes as he scanned the hallways they walked down.

Everything about the boy was unsettling to say the least.

When Bellatrix had informed him that their Lord wished to finally confront Evans, he had gone for the boy immediately, eager to get this entire situation over with. He had had the utmost assurance that his Lord would be able to achieve his goal; that he would be able to entrap Evans.

But now, the stirrings of unease in his gut pitched sharper with each step he took. Because for someone who was being led into a trap – someone who had to know they were being led into a trap – Evans seemed remarkably unconcerned.

Lucius looked again, this time managing to catch Evans' eyes. A tiny smirk slipped onto the boy's face, tweaking the edges of his lips up in a way that was distinctly predatory. He faced forward again, a scowl tugging at his brows at how easily the boy could disturb him.

A faint noise began to echo from behind him, soft and lilting as it reached his ears. He realised with a grimace that Evans was humming.

The sound sent chills running down his back.

No one playing against the Dark Lord should be this comfortable. This damned confident.

As they approached the correct door, Lucius briefly wondered if perhaps Evans was more unhinged then any of them suspected.

Surely the boy's life had not been easy. His formative years spent on the run, his entire existence overshadowed by the threat the Dark Lord posed to him. The pressure he must have been under…

Lucius would not be surprised if it had fractured him in more ways than one.

His hand curled around the doorknob, his other fist rapping against the wood in a polite knock. Lucius pushed the door open and stepped in and off to the side. The heat from the fireplace licked at his cheeks as he moved to the far side of the office, not ashamed at the distance he pointedly put between himself and Evans.

Evans entered after him silently, even taking the time to close the door and flick the lock himself. Lucius felt the privacy wards snap into place and had to swallow at how stifling the room was now that the main exit was blocked.

Evans walked further into the room, his green eyes scanning the space slowly, drifting over Bellatrix, then the bookshelves and desk, over to Lucius himself, before finally coming to rest on the Dark Lord.

His Lord had not once looked away since the boy had stepped through the door, and Lucius found himself inexplicably glad that he did not have to endure the level of focus Evans was currently receiving.

The boy waited patiently as he was studied, though that damning smirk was starting to make an appearance again. It was like Evans could not help himself, and Lucius' discomfort grew at the glint of haughty amusement he could see in those eyes.

"Something funny, Hadrian?" His Lord asked, eyes narrowed over his clasped hands. Clearly, he too had noticed it.

"Anything can be funny, depending on how you look at it." Evans replied easily, hands slipping into his pockets as his posture relaxed. "It's all about perspective, sir." He continued, his eyes fluttering coltishly at the Dark Lord.

A small smile flashed across the Dark Lord's face, there and gone in a moment. There was honest a spark of genuine delight on the man's face as well before it vanished, and Lucius felt wrong-footed all over again.

"We're not in the classroom right now, Hadrian. No need to call me 'sir'."

Hadrian's head tilted back as he let out a soft sound of agreement. "Too true. We are on much more equal ground here. But I was under the impression you liked it when I addressed you like that?" The boy's smile was vicious. "Sir." He took a step forward. "Professor." Another step. "My Lord."

The sheer – gall of the boy. Lucius found it hard to stop his eyes widening incredulously. There was nothing innocent about Evans' tone.

His Lord did not reply verbally, but the air around him was charged as his gaze dropped to the boy's feet and dragged upwards with a weight that was downright physical.

Evans only seemed to preen under the attention.

"As funny as I find this," his Lord said, "this is not why I wished to speak to you tonight."

Evans nodded, "Yes. I imagine this has something to do with your appropriation of my mother. Rude of you, by the way. Didn't anyone ever tell you stealing is wrong?"

A flicker of something fiery lit in his Lord's eyes at the faint rebuttal, and Lucius felt the man's magic darken considerably as he pushed himself to his feet and moved around the desk with deliberate steps.

Evans spun slowly to keep him in his sights, that twist to his lips now mocking. "Your darling mother brought it on herself. She approached me. It's hardly my fault she ended up where she did." The words made it clear where his Lord was truly laying the blame for Lily Potter's situation.

But Evans merely smiled, hands coming out of his pockets to brace against the surface of the desk and slouching insolently.

Lucius knew, then, that something was very wrong. Evans had not been reacting as they had predicted. Not once had he shown the anger they had been warned about, not once had he seemed unsure or uncomfortable.

Even the mention of his mother had garnered nothing.

There was something more going on with Evans then they knew. Something the boy had done that gave him this air of superiority – like he was untouchable even in the heart of the enemy's territory.

"It doesn't matter anyway," Evans said simply, "it doesn't matter who's fault it was. Mine. Yours. Hers. What matters," the boy stressed, the first signs of seriousness creeping into his voice, "is that you took her. After you said you would leave her alone, you took her."

Evans' jaw clenched briefly before the heat in his gaze withered away, leaving only the same condescending smile he had had all night.

"I suppose that was on me, though. For thinking I could trust anything you said." He ducked his head, blinking rapidly before looking back to them. "But it doesn't matter." He repeated. "Because I'm taking her back now."

"What have you done?" His Lord asked suddenly, marching forward several steps. There was anger on his face even though none of it reached his words. "You've done something."

Evans hummed noncommittally. "I have, and I haven't." He said with a shrug. "He is the one doing 'something'. I'm just doing as I was told."

His Lord's magic lashed out, making it difficult to breathe because of how dense it was. "Answer me." He demanded.

"Make me." Evans dared.

Bellatrix surged forward, her wand slipping into her palm and aiming at Evans. "That can be arranged, little boy." She hissed.

Evans cocked an eyebrow, staring at her.

He laughed all of a sudden, the noise crackling in the back of his throat as he stared at her. He leaned against the desk more firmly, legs falling open and head tilted invitingly. The smile on his face was feral.

"I don't think that would work." He said simply, in a tone that implied he was dangling a secret right before them.

Lucius sucked in a breath as the realisation hit him. The implications of his words, the recklessness the boy had displayed, the confident, dangerous way he had been playing with them all evening. "You're a doppelgänger." He guessed, almost entirely sure in his assumption.

Evans winked at him, "Give the man a prize."

"There's two of you?" Bellatrix asked with a wrinkle to her delicate nose. The very idea appeared to disgust her.

Evans bobbed his head, one of his hands hovering over the desk, the tips of his fingers brushing over the silver letter opener. He plucked it off the desk and tapped the flat of the blade against the palm of his hand. He stared at all three of them blankly.

Lucius marvelled at the body before them. It was a perfect recreation, down to the speech and mannerisms and ability to express emotions; and while he already knew Evans was capable of creating one, this still caught him by surprise.

"Indeed there are," Evans answered Bellatrix tauntingly, "just imagine all the trouble two of me could get into. Or don't." He added with a wicked look at the Dark Lord. His mouth pursed with faux-pity. "I don't think you could handle two of me."

His Lord stood stonily across from the doppelgänger, red eyes darting over the other as if searching. The utter lack of anything on the man's face was somehow more terrifying than his anger could ever be.

But it was only for a moment, before a bitter smile crept into existence. "Impressive. I imagine your creator has already succeeded in his goal."

The doppelgänger nodded slowly. "He has."

"Mental communication?"

"Of a sort." The doppelgänger confirmed, finally pushing away from the desk and stepping closer. He stopped a few feet from the Dark Lord and stared up at him. "My task was to distract you for the night, to stop you from noticing what was happening, or from heading him off. But now that they are both safe, my purpose is fulfilled."

He raised the letter opener. "Unfortunately, I still have too much magic to just wither away, and I don't fancy staying to see what creative things you have in store for me for tricking you." His eyes flicked to Lucius and Bellatrix, before returning to the Dark Lord.

"Don't touch her again."

And then, without hesitating, the doppelgänger flicked its wrist and stabbed itself in the chest.

The bloom of red appeared immediately, and the body crumpled to the ground without a sound, like a puppet with its strings cut.

Lucius swayed backwards slightly in shock, blinking a few times as he processed what he had just witnessed.

He stared down at the body, watching as it rippled, then began to disintegrate, leaving nothing but the letter opener sitting innocently on the carpet. The next few moments seemed to stretch on forever, but Lucius forced his eyes to move to the still form of his Lord.

"My Lord?" Bellatrix murmured, a touch of trepidation in her tone. Lucius understood the fear well.

His Lord stared at the space the doppelgänger had once occupied, expression frighteningly void of anything. Lucius noticed how the man's hands were clenched, and he winced at how that potent magic rolled over his skin like fire.

His Lord hissed out a breath, his hands relaxing. "What a clever, clever boy." He whispered. The man's eyes rolled from the letter opener to the window. "Leave me." He ordered softly, and when they failed to move immediately, that power wrapped around their throats in a crushing grip.

"Leave."

The two of them stumbled to the door and out into the hall, the door snapping shut on their heels, sealing them from the room but not before Lucius heard the quiet laughter falling from his Lord's lips.

He shivered and hoped to the gods that he was not present when his Lord inevitably found himself in a room with Hadrian Evans for real.

OoO

His feet hit the earth with a slap, the crack of his arrival reverberating through the night air. He straightened out of his protective crouch, arms still wrapped securely around his precious cargo.

Hadrian took a moment to readjust his hold on his mother, checking that she was still peaceful, although he prayed she would be awake.

But her eyes remained closed.

The sting of disappointment slipped between his ribs like a knife and he had to swallow thickly to rid himself of the ache.

He started off towards the Order's headquarters, acutely aware of the woman in his arms and each step he took. A levitation charm would be best. Practical and less likely to jostle her too much.

But some part of him needed to touch her. To feel her weight and the way her chest brushed against his with each fluttering inhale.

He made his way up to the front of the mansion, unsurprised when the door swung open well before he reached it, casting a beam of light over the darkened grounds.

There was a silhouette in the doorway, thin and short, with choppy locks of hair sticking in every direction. It was only when he walked up the steps that he could make out Tonks' face.

She blocked his path with her body and forced him to a stop. He took in her clenched jaw and the very real anger in her eyes. Her features were shifting, seemingly unable to control her abilities.

Neither of them spoke for a long moment. Her eyes dropped to his mother, seeing how tightly he held her to his chest, before she shuffled to the side.

Hadrian ducked his head in thanks and ignored the heat being aimed at him as he entered. The hall was deserted, mercifully. He did not think he could handle being confronted just yet.

Tonks slammed the door closed and moved in front of him, her shoulders drawn tight. He followed her without comment.

She led him to room on the second floor, a simple bedroom with a single bed and a depressing décor.

Hadrian lowered his mother gently onto the surface, brushing her hair free of her face. "Where is everyone?" He asked quietly, glancing over to where Tonks was leaning against the doorframe.

"Relocated. After you disappeared, we didn't know what would happen." Her expression twisted into something vicious. "All we knew was that you'd attacked Sirius," here, her eyes narrowed, "and gone running to the Dark Lord. We had no way of knowing what you were going to do."

Hadrian let out a harsh sigh. "You thought I would reveal you to get her back."

Tonks' chin rose. "Would you?" She challenged.

He did not bother replying, not when she already knew the answer. His fingers brushed against his mother's cold, pale cheek. "I didn't, if that is what you're worried about."
And that was true. His doppelgänger's memories showed that much, and, Hadrian thought with a grimace, far more. He massaged at his forehead to get rid of the lingering headache that the memory transference was causing.

"Why are you still here then, if everyone else has moved?"

Her arms crossed over her chest. "I'm here to hold down the fort until Sirius and Dumbledore get back." A self-deprecating smile came to her face. "Black Blood, and all that."

He nodded slowly, looking down at his gloved hands, before staring at his mother. He leaned down and pressed a firm kiss to her temple before standing and moving to stand before Tonks.

"For what it's worth," he said, "I'm sorry for what I did to Sirius. But he was in my way, and she's my mother, and I could not leave her like that."

The anger that had been burning in her eyes flickered brighter. "I'm not the one you should apologise to. You didn't see Sirius when he came bursting in here. He was frantic. Absolutely beside himself, just ranting about how he'd lost you again."

One of her small hand came up and shoved into his chest, forcing him back a step. "He thought that you had died once before, and it's been hanging over him for years. And now that he finally got you back, you pull this?"

Hadrian scowled at her. "You seem to be under the impression that I owe you something." He snapped. "I don't. I don't know you people, I don't trust you. I barely even care about you. You want to know what you are to me? You're faces and names and facts. You're not my friends, and you are certainly not family. I am here solely because of my mother, not because of any investment with the Order."

Tonks reared back in shock, her hair falling limp around her face at his words. "But the prophecy –"

"Oh, fuck your prophecy." Hadrian hissed, the thought slipping from his mind to his mouth before he could check it.

The silence between them was thick, and Hadrian leaned back from where he had started to crowd Tonks. She stared up at him, almost as if she were frozen.

They stood there for over minute, Hadrian carefully avoiding the eyes drilling into the side of his face, until the sound of a door opening and closing echoed through the ancient house.

Tonks wavered, her body half-turned automatically to the staircase.

"Dora?" Sirius' voice floated up to them and Hadrian's gut twisted. He stepped back into the room quickly, hating how much it felt like he was hiding.

"Up here Sirius." She called, never letting her gaze leave him.

The rapid footsteps rushing up the stairs was like a drum in his ears, and when Sirius' face popped into view the way his expression changed from worn and frustrated to dumbfounded would have been amusing except for the very real way that it was not.

"Hadrian." He said.

"Sirius." Hadrian's hands twitched.

The man stood at the top of the stairs, one of his hands still curled around the mahogany bannister. Hadrian shifted, and like an unspoken signal, Sirius stalked towards him.

He brushed by Tonks without a word and when he was close enough, Sirius' hand came up and wrapped around the back of Hadrian's neck.

He tugged him in sharply, and bewildered, Hadrian could do nothing more than trip into the hug. His face was pressed into the man's chest, his eyes wide and confusion gnawing at his mind as Sirius wrapped his other arm around his back and gripped tight.

Uncertain and uncomfortable, Hadrian stood there and let himself be hugged, his arms held loosely out to the sides as he waited to be released.

Sirius' hand ran through his hair once, tugging on the wild strands, before he pulled back and held the side of Hadrian's neck to keep him from looking away.

"Never," he said, voice terribly angry and filled with such harsh, brittle sadness, "do that again. Do you understand?" The man's thumb traced over his cheek fleetingly. "You don't get to just run off like that. Not again. You hear me?"

Hadrian frowned, uncertain and perplexed and with something not unlike inadequacy blooming in his chest. He had meant what he said to Tonks. He did not regret what he did to Sirius, could not bring himself to, when it meant his mother was safe.

But he had not expected this kind of reaction. He had expected anger. Disappointment. Harsh words and cutting remarks. Not – this.

He took a step back, a small, shuffling thing, and something pained slithered over Sirius' face before it was wiped away. The man dropped the hold he had on Hadrian and moved back enough so that he could breath.

Movement from the stairs caught his eye, and Hadrian gladly let himself be distracted by the arrival of Dumbledore.

The elderly wizard halted just at the top of the stairs, watching them with sad blue eyes that made Hadrian's skin itch whenever they landed on him.

"Harry, my boy. I'm glad to see you and your mother back with us. I take it that Lily is unharmed?"

"I – yes." Hadrian answered stiffly. "She's unconscious, I cannot wake her." His gaze darted to the floor. "R – Voldemort has done something to her. A spell, or a curse. I can't tell. But she won't wake up." He looked back to the leader of the Order.

"Perhaps I could help deduce what Tom has done?" He offered, and the familiarity with which he said Riddle's name startled Hadrian even though it should not.

A part of him chafed at the very idea of letting this man near his defenceless mother, while the other pointed out rather sternly that if there was even a chance Dumbledore could fix her…

He stepped aside and let them enter. He watched the old wizard like a hawk as he approached his mother and carefully laid one hand on her forehead as the other picked up her limp wrist. "She was like this when you found her?"

"Yes. I didn't have a chance to look around and see if I could treat her. I was running out of time, and Peter had escaped –"

"Peter?" Sirius cut in, head swivelling to him. "You actually saw him?"

Hadrian nodded. "He was guarding the manor for the night. He…led me to where she was being kept. For the most part."

Sirius cursed darkly, rubbing over his budding beard with a rough hand. "Are you okay? Did he say anything to you? He didn't hurt you, did he?"

"Calm down parrain. He did not touch me. Of the two of us, he was the one who walked away bloodied."

A frankly dangerous amount of satisfaction erupted in Sirius' eyes at his words. The man exhaled shortly. "Good. That's good. The bastard deserves that and more."

"And Tom?" Dumbledore asked, taking a moment to glance at Hadrian before returning to his appraisal of his mother. "I find it difficult to believe he let you leave his home unscathed."

Hadrian inclined his head. "Riddle wasn't there. He was preoccupied with the Malfoy's Ball. Only Peter and his snake, Nagini, were there when I broke in."

It was Tonks who hissed at that, "That snake is one seriously nasty thing. How did you get past her?" Whatever anger she had been fostering seemed to be gone for now.

"I put her in a bubble. She was still there when I was leaving."

"You didn't kill it?" Sirius asked, sounding surprised.

Hadrian gave him a look. "Why would I kill her? I had already broken into his home and reclaimed my mother, unravelling whatever plan he had. I was not going to risk pissing him off more by harming his snake."

"Surely Tom felt you cross his wards." Dumbledore interrupted.

Hadrian crossed his arms, uncaring how it might be seen as defensive. "He did not. But even if he had, I had something in place to keep him distracted long enough to get away."

"And that was?"

"Myself." Hadrian admitted, straightening his back against whatever judgement they cast his way.

"You used a doppelgänger." Dumbledore said with a spark of disapproval. He stared at Hadrian with a severe frown. "That is very dark magic, Harry."

"It's really not."

"It is blood magic. It requires a sacrifice of some kind to work. You took an unnecessary risk, used a dangerous type of magic that could have easily backfired on you."

The insinuation that he was nothing more than an irresponsible child grated at him. He gritted his teeth, "I knew what I was doing. I knew exactly what I was doing, and I don't need or want your opinion on the matter."

Tonks and Sirius both sucked in loudly at that.

Dumbledore shifted so he was no longer stooped over Hadrian's mother and met his gaze head-on. Immediately he felt the briefest of brushes against his mind, and his shields slammed into place, locking down and shoving the faint presence from his mind with vengeance.

The old man hardly reacted to the expulsion other than to tilt his head slightly to the side.

They stood across from each other, Hadrian trembling from his rage. The sheer audacity of the man knocking him unsteady.

"I knew a boy much like you, once." Dumbledore murmured. "Intelligent, and powerful, and confident in his abilities. Never wanting to listen to others, to pace himself. He thought he knew everything too."

Hadrian's gut hollowed at the comparison even though his mask never faltered. "And let me guess, he grew up to be a Dark Lord, one that conquered an entire nation and revolutionised it in a way many believed impossible. He has a whole army of sycophants who would die for him if he ever asked and is one of the most recognisable figures in the world – so powerful that only fools look to challenge him."

The former headmaster stared hard at him, not appreciating Hadrian's theft of his story. "You sound as if you admire him."

"He has accomplished a lot." Hadrian hedged. "I can respect someone and still disagree with them." He resisted the urge to list this situation as an example.

"Respect is an easy thing to manipulate." Dumbledore said calmly.

"Why don't you just come out and say what we all know you're thinking," Hadrian finally snapped, "and lay your accusations at my feet. I know you want to, I can practically see them swimming in your mind."

"Very well." The older wizard conceded easily. His wrinkled hands joined in a loose hold before him. "I am concerned with the relationship between you and Tom. Your mother implied that you and he are close at Hogwarts. That he has invested a personal amount of attention into you. You speak of him like one would a minor inconvenience, rather than a threat to your life, like you know yourself to be safe from his wrath."

"And that proves what, exactly? That I liked Riddle when I thought he was just my professor? That he was engaging and helpful and I enjoyed speaking with him? How scandalous." He sneered even as his heart lurched painfully in his chest.

"I have seen people smarter and more powerful than you succumb to Tom's charms before. He has had decades to perfect his approach, to master this skill. He is an expert at drawing those he finds interesting in and sinking his claws into them. Most of the time people aren't even aware it's happening."

Hadrian bared his teeth in a mockery of a smile. "And you think he has turned his sights on me? To what end? To lower my guard? To kill me? I hate to break your theory, but he has had dozens of chances to kill me by now, and never once has he tried."

"There are other ways to negate a threat, then to kill them." Dumbledore said, eyes alight with a strange sadness.

"You think he wants to fuck me, is that it?" Hadrian asked abruptly, trying to inject as much scepticism into his voice as he could, ignoring the phantom feeling of Riddle's hands in his hair.

The other two gave him incredulous, bordering on disgusted, looks, but it was the glint in Dumbledore's eyes that held his attention. "Not entirely, though how curious that that is where your thoughts jumped to. Perhaps it is not as far from the realm of possibility as you implied."

Hadrian's mouth clinked shut as disbelief rose in him. He had walked right into that, had all but handed the trap over to the man.

"Hadrian?" Sirius asked hesitantly. He refused to look at the man, keeping his eyes fixed on Dumbledore.

"Even if he did view me in such a way, what possible reason would I have for bedding the man who murdered my father and kidnapped my mother?" He asked after a pause, trying to regain the ground he had suddenly lost. "That makes no sense."

Dumbledore nodded sagely. "In different circumstances, you would be right. But you are hardly a normal boy, Harry. You're upbringing alone is atypical. The fear you would have grown up knowing, the desire it bred, to know all you could about your enemies…that kind of fascination is an open door to someone like Tom."

Hadrian shook his head lightly, clenching his jaw and planting his eyes on the wall behind Dumbledore's shoulder. He had nothing more to say to this man.

Let him spin whatever delusions he wanted. He knew nothing about him and Riddle. Nothing about their interactions or the strange, mangled mess that was their relationship.

His lack of response stretched the silence, neither Sirius nor Tonks finding a way to break the tension flooding the room.

Finally, Dumbledore sighed softly, accepting the end to the conversation. "Your mother has been placed under a spell, likely cast by Tom himself. It appears to be a simple sleeping one, but the nature of the magic involved leads me to believe it is parselmagic."

He dragged his gaze back to the old man, reluctantly acknowledging the information.

"Unfortunately, only a parselmouth is capable of doing and undoing spells in this particular branch of magic."

"There's no other way?" Tonks piped up gently. "No other way we can break it without – you know?"

Dumbledore smiled at her, looking his age for once. "Not to my knowledge, dear girl. Of course, that does not mean there is no hope. I shall have to consult my books. There is every chance the spell could dissipate over time. I doubt Tom intended to keep Lily under indefinitely."

Those knowing blue eyes drifted back to Hadrian. "Something tells me he intended her stay to be temporary."

Hadrian's expression was like ice. He steadfastly ignored Dumbledore as the man circled the bed and made his way to the door.

"Come, we should leave Hadrian to rest. He has had an eventful night. We will continue this in the morning."

Tonks followed eagerly, her entire body radiating her discomfort at the conversation that had taken place. It was Sirius who lingered, mouth opening and closing but never speaking.

Eventually, he too left the room, pulling the door shut behind him with a faint click.

Hadrian made his way to the bed, sitting gingerly down on the edge and reaching out to hold one of his mother's hands tightly.

Dumbledore's words rang through his head, an endless loop of torment and sickening guilt.

He traced his thumb over his mother's knuckles.

Parselmagic, he thought dully. Only a parselmouth could undo it. If I asked –

He discarded the thought at once, not willing to let it take root in his mind. There was no way Riddle would even consider releasing his mother from this spell, not when it was still leverage.

He sighed through his nose, frustrated over the knowledge that he might have his mother back, but that Riddle was still two steps ahead of him.

If I could just get him to let her go.

Hadrian hunched over and stared blankly at the patterned dark carpet.

"An open door." He muttered to himself. "Doors are a two-way thing."

An idea began to unfurl.

Let me know what you think!