This chapter is purely self-indulgence at this point. Warnings are at the bottom.
Hope everyone enjoys!
Hadrian stared at the pale stone wall for a long moment, his eyes skimming over the grooves and cracks as he took the chance to simply lay there on his stomach and breathe.
Unlike usual, there was no gradual awakening for him. No thoughts straining to be coherent passed the fog in his mind. No lingering heaviness. It was a seamless transition into consciousness, and Hadrian swore he could still feel the gentle, warm weight of the projection's hand on his shoulder.
He blinked languidly, curling his fingers and toes curiously.
There was, surprisingly, no pain – physical or otherwise.
Hadrian marvelled at that, then at how quiet everything was. He felt settled, in a way he could not describe. He could not even recall the last time he had experienced such an overwhelming sense of calm.
For so long it was as if he had been caught in a whirlwind of extremes, pulled in every direction and desperate to just hold himself together.
Peace was a foreign notion.
But not an unwelcome one.
Hadrian closed his eyes as he turned his face to nestle into the pillow.
For the first time in months, he actually felt like he knew what he had to do. And strangely, the idea of confronting his mother – of telling her what he had decided – did not fill him with unease and self-hatred.
"I'm going to leave her," he murmured to himself, voice muffled, pulse thundering in his ears. But just like in his dream, it was as if a weight had been lifted from his chest. "I am going to leave her."
Hadrian breathed deeply, his chest expanding under the tight coil of bandages wrapped around it.
He felt reforged, somehow.
The idea of moving forward without his mother, without her constant presence shadowing his every move, was a daunting one. But Gods if he did not want.
He was tired of being someone's puppet, of dancing on their string.
Hadrian raised his head.
There was no one around him, the room silent and the air stagnant, and so he felt no need to hide how he struggled as he attempted to sit up.
Hadrian grimaced, more from the pressure around his chest than the wounds on his back, as he gradually pulled his arms up from where they lay limp by his sides. He clenched his hands experimentally a few times to make sure there was no numbness.
Satisfied, he then slid his knees in and began to push himself upright. His arms trembled with the effort, weak after who knew how long without moving; but the ache in his chest eased as he carefully sat upright. Hadrian sighed in relief now that he no longer felt like he was being crushed.
He cast his gaze around the room he had been moved to, recognising the Hogwarts' hospital wing from his last unpleasant stay in it.
The sky was still dark, leaving the room swathed in shadows – but the promise of daybreak was strong. Hadrian squinted at the window and wondered just how long he had been unconscious.
It had been night when he and Draco had been rescued, but there was no sign of the other boy here with him. Either Draco had been taken somewhere else due to the severity of his injuries, or more time had passed than Hadrian suspected, and the other had healed enough to leave already.
Neither option was particularly comforting.
Hadrian shifted, slipping his legs off the side of the bed, and brushed a hand through his hair to smooth out the tangles.
The thoughtless move tugged at the skin of his back. Hadrian hissed as a dull burn flared up in response, and he dropped his hand immediately.
The spark of pain had not been as intense as he would have thought from such a wound, which meant he was on some very good potions, or it had definitely been some time since the second task – long enough for his magic to replenish and boost his healing.
He leaned forward with care, cradling his head in his hands and mentally counting to thirty, measuring his breaths as he went.
The thought of his wounds brought the uncomfortable memories to the forefront of his mind. His eyes fluttered, and between one beat and the next, he heard the reverberating crack of those bones ring in his ears.
He bowed his head lower.
Hadrian had never killed a human before.
He had killed – animals for potions ingredients, the spiders, the redcaps – but he had never taken the life of another human. As much as it bothered him, as dirty as it made him feel, there was something profoundly different about killing creatures, and killing a human.
Maybe it was because they were the same species. Maybe it was because for all he was wary of werewolves, he had always been fascinated by them.
Maybe it was just having seen her shift to her human form, the sight of her, bloodied and bruised by Hadrian's hand as she lay crumpled at the base of the tree, that got to him.
He closed his eyes.
A part of him did not know how to feel about it, despite the cool logic already seeping into his thoughts. The knowledge that if he had not attacked as he had, both he and Draco would have been killed, was a small comfort.
Another whisper told him that this was what he had been preparing for his whole life. He had always known that he would be a killer, that he had been raised for the sole purpose of facing Voldemort one day and striking him down.
But the reality of having blood on his hands was far more perturbing than he was prepared for.
Hadrian cupped his mouth in one hand, his other hanging between his knees.
He had had no choice, Hadrian assured himself, wrapping the thought around the prickling cluster of guilt in his gut and letting it begin to dissipate.
He stayed in place for some time, watching with detached interest as the hospital wing steadily began to lighten. He only looked up when he heard the murmur of voices reach him through the thick doors.
"–interest. But his wounds are severe, and the potions would not allow it. There's no way the boy is awake." One of the doors creaked open, a willowy woman entering with her head turned back to whoever she was talking to. There was a faint frown on her plain face, her brown hair mussed, and clothes dishevelled in a manner that spoke of hurried dressing.
Her soft green eyes moved to him and she came to a sudden stop in the entry. Surprise overtook her features, and Hadrian cautiously sat up from his hunched position. His eyes flicked behind her when a second figure appeared in the doorway, and he could not quite help the way his heart thudded at the sight of Riddle – glamoured in his Dark Lord persona.
Hadrian glanced back to the woman when she all but lunged at him, her wand flying up and casting a diagnostic charm at him before she even reached his bedside. The purple light washed over him but Hadrian barely twitched. His gaze had already latched back onto Riddle, watching as the man slid inside and gently closed the door behind him.
His face was so still, no hint of his true thoughts breeching his impeccable control – and not even his magic revealed what he was feeling.
Hadrian wanted to –
"When the bloody hell did you get up?" The woman asked, levelling her wand at his forehead. There was some tension around her eyes and mouth that could have either been from displeasure at his unexpected awakening, or the presence of the Dark Lord looming nearby. It was difficult to tell.
"I do not know," Hadrian told her honestly, "sometime before sunrise."
Her mouth twisted further as she half-turned to look behind her. "I…apologise for my doubt, my Lord. You were right."
Riddle did not respond beyond a slight nod, his eyes still fixed on Hadrian, eerily placid.
The woman faced him, her unease folding neatly behind her professionalism. "You've been unconscious for two days," she told him readily, seeing the question before he could voice it. "Predicted to be out for another, but I suppose you have a habit of exceeding people's expectations, Mr. Evans."
Despite the situation, despite the weight of Riddle's attention, a wane smile crept onto his lips at her tone.
He looked to the side, considering what she had said. Two days was both surprising and not. He had been down longer from his match with the manticore, but it still felt like hardly any time had passed in his dreamscape.
"Seeing as you're awake, we can have a proper examination of your back at least," the woman said, twirling a finger to indicate she wanted him to move. "I'm Gracie Jones, by the way," she added as an afterthought.
Hadrian nodded back as he shifted and raised his arm to give her access to the bandages. "A pleasure," he replied drolly. He ignored the eyes drilling into him, glad that for the moment he was facing away from the man.
"I won't sugar-coat this," Jones warned as she started to peel the bandages back, "the wounds were deep, and the scarring will be extensive – there was nothing we could do about that. You and Mr. Malfoy are lucky, all things considered; you both got off lightly."
Draco was in recovery, then.
"I know," Hadrian replied. Werewolf wounds always scarred. "Will there be any side-effects?"
Jones' shoulders were tight, but something in her was soothed the longer she worked. Her green eyes jumped to his briefly, before dropping back to what she was doing. "We won't know until the next full moon, but if I had to hazard a guess, I'd say increased aggression, or at least fluctuating energy following the lunar cycle. Maybe a hankering for rare meat. The usual symptoms of a scratch."
"No overpowering urge to howl?" He asked, somewhat dry, staring intently as the last few layers were unravelled.
Jones' lips twitched, "No more than usual."
Hadrian gave a small, relieved smile. It was good to know that there would be no earth-shattering consequences. He could handle the side-effects – it was the placement of the scars that concerned him more.
He could feel them even now, under the buffering presence of the potions. How the skin and muscles felt tender, how taunt it was to move. The fact that there was no damage to his spine was nothing short of miraculous.
The last of the bandages were removed, and Hadrian took his first unconstricted breath in days.
"Ah," the healer muttered, sounding uncertain.
"What's wrong?" He asked immediately, tilting his head to look over his shoulder. He caught Riddle's eye for a second, before the man's gaze lowered to stare at Hadrian's back.
Jones hesitated for a moment, but when she finally did speak, her voice was tinged with shock. "Nothing. It's just…the wounds are…healing nicely." She paused, "They are further along than I was expecting."
Hadrian looked at her, frowning at the odd expression on her face. "That can only be good, right?"
She cleared her throat, "Well, yes. It's just unusual. I was thinking you might need about two months of treatment to get back to your previous level of manoeuvrability. But now…it might be closer to a month." She studied him with curious eyes, "You must have an extraordinary amount of magic for your age, if it's already begun targeting and reversing the damage like this."
Hadrian did not respond to that.
She shook her head, "Regardless of that, I still need to tend to the wounds, which means you need this." She waved her wand and a trolley came to a stop beside her. She picked something up, then held out it out to him. It looked like a band of leather.
Hadrian took it, casting a dubious glance back at her.
Jones bared her teeth playfully, almost completely at ease now. "Bite. I need to spread a salve over the scars, then rebandage them. It will hurt."
"Why not just give me a potion to numb me?" He asked, twisting his wrist so that the band flopped around.
Jones snorted, "With all the potions we've been pumping into you? I'm not risking an overdose. You weren't supposed to be awake for this, so now you have to deal with it."
Hadrian switched his glare to her, but after a moment, he obediently placed the strip in his mouth and lightly sunk his teeth into it, testing the give. It was very soft, but thick enough that he would not grind straight through.
There was a whisper of noise off to the side while Jones was gathering her supplies, and Hadrian curiously glanced over.
He met Riddle's eyes again, saw a glimmer of something hot in that red gaze and, inexplicably, he blushed.
It was awful, the rush of heat that burned through him, and from the way Riddle's eyes dropped from his face to trace down his bare chest, Hadrian knew the redness had spread far lower than he was comfortable with.
He twisted away, half-mortified, half-intrigued, and quietly gnawed at the strip to dislodge the effects of Riddle's attention on his bare skin.
Jones finally turned back to him, a large jar of soft blue paste in one hand, and a glove on the other. She scanned him critically, then nodded sharply. "Excellent. If you need a break just tap your thigh or the bed and we can stop."
Hadrian breathed through his nose, eyes fixating on the trolley as Jones moved around behind him. He listened as she quietly pulled the stopper off the jar. "Get ready," was all she said before something cold was being pressed into his back.
Hadrian twitched, then scrunched his nose as the cold swiftly turned scalding. His entire back lit up with pain as the salve was applied, the nerves there – already raw from the injuries themselves – were all but shrieking at him now.
Hadrian's jaw snapped shut, teeth burying into the leather with a vengeance. He clenched his hands in the bedsheet, blinking through the gathering tears, trying to centre himself.
It was an eternity before she finished, her nimble fingers securing the fresh bandages with tape. Jones placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, her skin hot in comparison to his. He felt cold and feverish.
"There's not much else to do," she told him, sounding genuinely apologetic as she watched him tremble. "The salve will promote healing, and the potions should keep the pain down for now, but other than that we have to let things run their course."
Hadrian nodded stiffly. He had known the second he had been struck that he would not just be walking it off. It had been a risk, jumping in between Draco and the werewolf, but he would not regret it.
Scars were proof of survival. They showed the world that he had survived, that he was strong. And his wounds meant something too – that he had saved someone, a friend. Though the marks would undoubtedly be thick, ugly things, winding from his shoulder to his opposite hip, Hadrian would carry them with pride.
Jones patted him on the shoulder once, likely sensing he was beginning to flag. "You should get some rest now. If the pain flares up, give me a shout, okay?"
He nodded.
Jones straightened, tugging off her used glove. She looked towards Riddle, expression creasing with indecision. "My Lord –"
Riddle raised a hand, and Jones cut herself off. The man did not bother to look her way as he gestured pointedly towards the hospital wing door.
Hadrian watched with hooded eyes as Jones' shoulders dropped in defeat. She obeyed the command silently.
The door closed shut behind her with a sense of finality.
Hadrian debated the benefits of trying to put this conversation off, exhausted from the salve as he was; but quickly decided against it. Whatever Riddle had to say, it would be better to get it over and done with.
He moved, mindful of his back, and faced Riddle.
The man had discarded his glamour, his true, youthful features bleeding into existence. When Hadrian's eyes landed on him, he stepped forward.
Each stride carried a predator's weight, but even with the rising tide of the man's volatile magic – bristling, boiling, there was the anger he had anticipated – Hadrian felt no fear.
Not when Riddle's hand reached out to catch his jaw. Not even when those fingers tightened enough to leave bruises as they wrenched his head up.
Hadrian groaned as the skin on his back pulled at the rough handling, but he did not resist.
Riddle would not hurt him, not more than he already was. He was by no means a gentle man, but he would gain nothing from aggravating Hadrian's injuries.
"You foolish, reckless, stupid little boy," Riddle said, mild for all the way his hissing power choked the air. "I should have you skinned for your insolence."
Hadrian did not baulk at the threat, and some distant part of him wondered just when he had grown used to Riddle's particular brand of protectiveness. When had he started to feel safe under that burning gaze?
Riddle leaned closer to him, his other hand hovering over the bandaged shoulder like he wanted to reach out and rip.
"Are you incapable of keeping out of harm's way?" The man whispered, words ghosting over Hadrian's cheek. "Must you test my patience by hurling yourself headlong into danger? Is returning to me undamaged so completely outside your abilities?"
Riddle's hand dropped down onto his shoulder and Hadrian jerked as pain bloomed under the forced effects of the potions. He reached up to grasp Riddle's arms, squeezing in protect. The hold on his shoulder tightened in answer, long fingers digging in, and the strip in Hadrian's mouth muffled the whine building in his throat.
He was shoved backwards.
The breath rushed out of him in a sharp huff, and Hadrian's back thrummed with muted agony.
He glared up at Riddle.
Riddle glared back.
One of the man's hands dropped onto his chest, applying just enough pressure to keep him still. Hadrian's watched those fingers trace the edges of his bandages.
Enough of this, he thought.
Hadrian reached up to remove the leather strip, but before he could, Riddle caught his wrist and pinned it to the mattress. "I think that can stay where it is for now," the man said lightly, "I rather like this look on you."
Hadrian snarled, eyeing the slow growing amusement on Riddle's face with irritation. The man's earlier anger seemed to have all but vanished now that Hadrian was at his mercy.
Riddle watched him silently, then, without any warning, he was shifting closer.
Hadrian held still as Riddle braced a knee next to his thigh and threaded a hand through his hair. This was not what he had thought would happen.
"Look at you," the Dark Lord said, hovering over him, eyes dark. "I came here prepared to punish you for endangering yourself. The moment I felt you awaken," his hand slid down to clasp around Hadrian's bare forearm – the mark there covered by a glamour, one that tasted too much like Riddle's magic to have been cast by anyone else. "I wanted to carve out your throat. I wanted to tear those infuriating eyes from your skull for doing what you did."
Riddle's nails raked over Hadrian's scalp in a way that made him want to quake. "And yet, seeing you here now…" The man sighed suddenly, lowering himself and brushing his lips along the underside of Hadrian's jaw.
Hadrian's breath hitched.
"I delight in you," Riddle whispered against his skin, "you are the single most maddening thing in existence, and yet –" His lips skimmed over the rapidly beating pulse in Hadrian's throat. "Watching you is like seeing music given form."
Riddle tugged at his hair, easily pulling Hadrian's head back and baring his neck more. Hadrian swallowed thickly, mind grappling, trying to pick apart what the man was saying.
Teeth scrapped down his neck, pausing to nip sharp enough to make Hadrian jerk, before trailing down to his collarbone. Riddle bit him again, like he wanted to draw blood, and a moan slipped out of Hadrian's mouth before he could strangle it back. It sounded obscene in the relative silence of the hospital wing.
Riddle pulled the thin skin there in between his teeth, sucking lightly, and Hadrian knew there would be a mark left behind. Riddle released it, laving his tongue over the spot, then pulled away. His eyes roamed Hadrian's flushed face, searching for something, before the leather was torn from his mouth, and he was being kissed.
Fuck it was better than he remembered.
Hadrian's free hand flew up and buried itself in that dark hair, gripping frantically as he greedily chased Riddle's tongue. A hand brushed down his side, gripping at his hip hard enough to hurt. Hadrian broke away to hiss, "Careful, you prick."
Riddle smiled at him, his hand curling around the side of Hadrian's neck, and he hooked his thumb into his mouth and pushed down. Hadrian barely had a second to contemplate biting before Riddle's leg slid between his and ground down harshly.
Hadrian choked, unable to hold back the sharp gasp as he helplessly rocked his hips up into the movement. "You," he said breathlessly, tongue dragging against the pad of Riddle's thumb, "are such a bastard."
Hadrian writhed in place, hating how hard he was from just this. It had been so long since he had done anything like this, since anyone had touched him. Too long, evidently, from how quickly he was being undone.
Hadrian did not know if it was simply the feel of someone pressing against him, or if it solely the fact that it was Riddle doing it that was driving him mad. But to himself, he could admit it.
He had wanted this for weeks.
It was what they had been building to, all this time. This little game they played – so many boundaries crossed already – each move adding more to the blazing fire between them. It had only been a matter of time, Hadrian knew. That kiss they had shared had haunted him, no matter how he tried to ignore it.
"You were glorious out there," Riddle was murmuring, perched above him and watching with rapture as Hadrian shook beneath him. "Beautiful and fierce and demanding their attention. I couldn't take my eyes off you."
His gaze was bright, and Hadrian had to look away from the intensity there, unable to process what he saw deep in those eyes.
He gripped at Riddle's shoulders, and the heat in his gut was only matched by the growing pain in his back. He tried to speak, but Riddle's hand chose that moment to slip from his mouth and down between them, and Hadrian could not quieten the bone deep groan he let out when those clever fingers pressed against him through his pants.
Riddle's soft laughter reached him, his chiding voice following a moment later, "Ah, ah, ah, Hadrian. Be a good boy now, we wouldn't want to draw any attention, would we? It's still early, but you never know who might be listening – Beauxbatons' champion fraternising with the Dark Lord?" Riddle clicked his tongue, mocking as he almost flattened Hadrian under him. His hand never stopped moving against his cock. "Just imagine the scandal."
The words sunk into his mind, igniting something inside him, and Hadrian snarled at the pure arrogance dripping from that mouth.
He surged upwards, but Riddle pinned him again and palmed Hadrian harder, movements more focussed now, like he could sense it. The man's mouth found his once more, tongue slipping between Hadrian's teeth and ran along the roof of his mouth.
Hadrian shuddered, gasped into Riddle's mouth, then came.
He slumped back, and Riddle bit his lips one last time before pulling back, practically oozing satisfaction.
Hadrian stared at the ceiling, panting. "Oh my gods," he mumbled, "what the fuck just happened?"
Riddle sat up, entirely unruffled, and Hadrian would be offended if not for the budding horror entrenching his mind. The man waved his hand, the mess cleaning itself.
"Do you truly want me to answer that?" He asked, sounding curious.
"No, I don't want you to answer it!" Hadrian snapped, embarrassed. He sat up and flushed at the appreciative glance Riddle gave him. "What is wrong with you?"
"Many things, I'm sure people say," Riddle replied, his lips curving into a smirk.
"I'm injured." Hadrian hissed, "You can't just –" He stopped himself, unable to actually say it. But he flapped his hand to try and emphasis his point.
Riddle cocked his head, intrigued. "Is that truly your only objection? That you are injured?"
Hadrian narrowed his eyes at the tone, "I have many objections to what just happened, Voldemort." He spat, incensed.
A look of utter delight flashed across Riddle's face. "Oh, Hadrian," he breathed out, horribly amused in a way that only spelled danger, "did you forget already?"
He stepped back into Hadrian's space like he belonged there, his hands on either side of him, faces inches apart. "I can feel your emotions."
Hadrian scowled at the reminder, fixing Riddle with a brutal look. The man merely smiled.
"You can glare all you want. We both know you're not nearly as upset as you're pretending. I could feel your want, Hadrian. If you had, for even a moment, felt anything other than desire, do you honestly think I would have continued?" He did not wait for an answer, did not seem to care much for it.
"But you know what's even better?" Riddle asked, leaning right in, his lips against the shell of his ear. Hadrian's eyes almost slipped closed. "It's that I can still feel it."
"Get out," Hadrian said, unable to deny his words and loathing it.
Riddle pressed a feather-light kiss to his cheek before standing, no doubt pleased at his victory. "Get well soon, Hadrian."
The man walked towards the door, his disguise melting back into place as he went.
Hadrian watched him leave, something dark and vicious snarling in his chest.
"I'm going to break you." He swore.
OoO
There was something bothering Hadrian.
Raina watched him closely from the corner of her eyes as he spoke to the healer one last time. He was dressed in his uniform, sans jacket, which she had looped over her arms.
It could be any number of things, goodness knew he had enough problems to pick from. But while others might suspect it to be related to the second task, or even his stay in the hospital wing – Raina was not convinced.
Hadrian was agitated, but he also looked pensive in a way that made her skin prickle with warning. There was a restlessness to him that she had not seen before, a sharpness to his eyes that was borderline feral.
Lingering effects from the scratches, she might be tempted to suspect, if she did not know him so well.
Whatever it was that was preoccupying him, she prayed it came to a quick resolution.
Hadrian nodded to the healer, the woman barely able to look at him for longer than a second, before he was heading towards her.
Raina held out his jacket, helping Hadrian put it on so that he did not put any pressure on his injuries. She placed a hand on his arm and gave him a small smile. "It is good to see you," she told him warmly, "everyone was worried."
Hadrian made a vague noise, distracted.
Raina frowned lightly, following as Hadrian made for the doors and out into the hallway. "Are we heading back to the carriage?" She asked, watching him. "Everyone is eager to see you again, and there's some matters to discuss. About the tournament."
"What about it?" He asked, strolling down the staircase. It was the afternoon, classes for the day already finished, but the halls were still filled with students and everyone they passed stared at Hadrian in bewilderment or fear. Seeing as no one had been allowed to visit him since he had been taken into the hospital wing, it was not surprising. Even after he had woken, only the healer had been permitted inside to speak to him.
He did not seem to notice the reactions.
Raina hesitated, wondering how to voice her answers. She chose the lightest topic. "There is your placing, for one."
Hadrian glanced at her; eyebrows raised in query.
She cleared her throat, mindful to keep her voice lowered. "Well, everyone is up in arms about what happened, and the judges were trying to figure out how to rank the three of you, seeing as both you and Malfoy dropped out. But Kaiser," here, Raina grimaced in distaste, "her actions were seen as contentious, and counter to the spirit of the tournament."
Hadrian snorted, "It is a death grudge match between children," he said with a grim little smile, "I would say she embodied the spirit of the tournament quite well."
Despite the black humour, Raina felt some of her tension slip away. There was no overwhelming rage in Hadrian, no fiery wrath waiting to spring loose. He seemed more amused by Kaiser's attempts to kill him then anything.
"Regardless," Raina continued, "she angered a lot of people, including her own country. There was talk of taking her points away from her because of it."
"And I take it by your wording that that did not happen?"
Raina sighed, still upset by the decision. "No. Since she technically did not break any rules, she was allowed to keep them. She's currently in the lead. It is Malfoy and yourself that are causing the most division."
Hadrian reached out and opened the door for her, the one that took them into the grand staircase. The Ravenclaw boy on the other side flinched back when he caught sight of Hadrian, practically hurling himself to the side as Raina stepped through. Hadrian absently reached out and grabbed the boy's sleeve to steady him, stopping him from tumbling off the platform.
Raina hid her smile in her hand.
"How so?" Hadrian asked, and she could tell from his tone that he was finally paying their conversation his full attention. Whatever had been on his mind previously had been put aside for now.
"They cannot come to an agreement on which of you is in second place. Where you were laying when they came to collect you, from what I understand, Malfoy was closer to the end point – some are arguing that that means he should be in second."
The noise Hadrian made was noncommittal, and nothing on his face gave away what he thought of that. They headed down to the ground floor, and Raina was glad that her classmates had decided to stay within the carriage while she collected Hadrian. Crowding him while he was fresh out of the hospital wing would not have been a good idea.
"However, there are several people opposing that decision – Malfoy, chiefly among them."
Hadrian actually stopped, his surprise plainly visible. "What?"
Raina smiled, "Malfoy is denying their attempts. He's refused second place. You are six points behind Kaiser, he is three and a half points behind you."
Hadrian frowned. "Draco refused?"
Raina hummed in agreement, enjoying the genuine shock. "He was quite adamant, I heard he even got into an argument with his father about it. But it's done. Now all you need to do is beat Kaiser in the third task."
Hadrian grimaced, "I will deal with her later," he said dismissively. "I have more important things to handle right now."
They continued walking, bursting out into the sunlight. Raina hurried after him, "What do you mean?"
Hadrian expression darkened for a moment, "For one, I need to punch Riddle in the throat."
Raina's eyes popped wide at the venomous words. She reached out and grabbed Hadrian, pulling him around to face her. "What happened?" She demanded, concern heavy in her heart.
He shook his head, firm but not outright rejecting her. "Not now, I will tell you later. We might need to hurry our preparations for that ritual you had in mind though." Hadrian's eyes were sparking with untold amounts of violence now. He leaned closer and whispered, "I want to make him bleed."
Raina struggled not to stutter in the face of his anger. Riddle must have done something remarkably bad if it was pushing Hadrian to speed up the ritual. Something caught her eye, she glanced down at where Hadrian's collar had shifted. The vivid mark stood out on his pale skin, and Raina very carefully did not react at the implication of it.
She looked at Hadrian instead, at the anger – no humiliation, no desire to claw out of his skin, no hint of violation in his eyes – and told herself to not push. He would tell her when he was ready.
She flattened her hand against his chest, taking a breath as she considered his words.
The idea of going up against the Dark Lord did not make her nervous. She would, she knew, quite happily kill for Hadrian. Waging a war with him against the greatest Dark magic user in recorded history was more exhilarating than terrifying.
"When?"
Hadrian paused, thinking. "Sunday," he said, "we can do it Sunday. There is something I need to do tonight, and tomorrow we can tell Claire everything. But the day after…Will you be ready by then?"
"Of course," Raina said, already mentally shifting her schedule around. She had most of the ingredients at hand and had already scoped out a perfectly serviceable area to preform it. They would need to give Claire time to process as well, but hopefully with Raina already there and aware, it would be easier for her to come to terms with everything.
Claire loved Hadrian as a brother. She had been his friend longer than any of them. She would be hurt, but she would accept him, of that Raina was certain.
They came up to the carriage and Raina, thoughts still swirling, almost missed sudden clamour as Hadrian entered the common room. She looked up in time to see Claire carefully sinking into Hadrian's chest, holding onto his arms rather than risking touching his back or shoulders.
The rest of their classmates surged forward, voices overlapping as the relief and excitement permeated the air. Hadrian accepted their cheer and gentle touches with grace and a soft smile, letting himself be swept into the merriment.
Raina stayed back, watching him be passed around with good humour, Claire, Albert and Jacob forming a loose circle to protect him from being jostled too much in the chaos.
She loosely wrapped her arms around herself, chest full of warmth at the scene they all made.
Truly, Hadrian was so easy to love. He was one of the rare few who just drew people in, effortlessly, like the moon did the sea.
The chatter tapered off when Madame Maxime entered the common area, her towering figure commanding their attention as always. Behind her, Raina spotted the minister, who was looking exceptionally pleased.
"Hadrian," she called, moving forward to greet him. "I am glad to see you well. And I cannot commend you enough for your actions in the second task. You showed your exemplary nature, and are a credit to your school, and to France."
Hadrian bowed as low as his injuries allowed, and anyone could see that he was honoured by Lécuyer's words.
"Thank you, Minister." He said as he straightened.
Lécuyer smiled, pulling something from her robes. "And this, I believe, belongs to you. Try not to lose it next time, yes?"
Hadrian's eyes lit up when they landed on his wand, and he took it back with a reverence that should be embarrassing to witness but was somehow merely charming. "You got it back," he murmured.
"Of course," Lécuyer said lightly, "it is yours." She smoothed out the creases in her overcoat, "Now, I am afraid I must return to France, but I shall be back next week. I would like to speak to you then, if that is acceptable."
Hadrian ducked into another bow, "Just set the time, Minister."
Lécuyer nodded back, "Olympe, would you mind escorting me to the castle?"
The headmistress brushed passed them, stopping briefly to card an affectionate hand through Hadrian's hair – such a familiar touch, Raina had never seen her tactile – before following the minister outside.
Hadrian watched them leave with a smile.
OoO
It was late, the sun just beginning to dip below the horizon, when Hadrian spoke for the first time in over an hour.
"Darling," he said quietly.
Raina immediately gave him her full attention. She shut the book in her hands and met his eyes curiously. "Walk with me?"
He held out a hand, and though she raised an eyebrow, Raina took his offer and allowed him to help her to her feet. Hadrian tucked her hand into his elbow and escorted her towards the door of the carriage.
Like they had since he had first come back from the hospital wing, numerous eyes locked on and followed his steps. No one asked where they were going, and Hadrian could not even summon exasperation at his classmates' obsessive need to check on him.
After he had returned, after the buzz had died down and they had all returned to their homework and study, he had retreated to the corner to think, just basking in the presence of his friends. But now he had something to do.
He and Raina left, and Hadrian led them towards where the unused quidditch pitch sat, still and reticent in the distance.
They walked in silence for a long while, and Hadrian appreciated her patience. The quiet between them was peaceful, kind, and he would forever be grateful for this girl being in his life.
Finally, once they were a good distance away, he turned to her. "I was wondering if your offer was still open," he began, choosing his words carefully. Raina's eyes flicked to him. Hadrian clarified, "To stay at your home."
He looked away so he did not have to watch the realisation steal across her face. It was difficult enough to feel how her hand flexed around his arm.
"Have you told her?"
He shook his head. "No. I wanted to check with you first, to make sure I had a plan in place before I did anything."
Raina's hand moved to grasp his, squeezing. "You will always have the option, Hadrian. For however long you wish, my home is open to you."
He closed his eyes and pressed a kiss to her forehead, "Thank you."
She swayed into him, "When will you tell her?"
Hadrian sighed, "I did say that I had something to do tonight. I want to get it over with. I…I just want it done."
"Alright," she agreed, "would you like company?"
He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and felt his heart bubble with love for her. "I would never ask that of you. I do not want to drag you into this more than you already are."
Raina laughed softly, stepping back and grinning at him. She cupped his cheek. "You are not asking, I am offering. I want to be there, just in case."
Hadrian's eyes crinkled as he returned her smile. "Okay," he whispered.
OoO
Sirius looked up when there was a knock at the door.
He frowned, glancing warily at Lily. She was still staring at the wall, the same confused furrow between her brows as had been there all day – ever since she had been turned away from the hospital wing after Hadrian had woken up.
She did not seem to hear the noise.
He stood up from the seat opposite her and headed to the door, checking to make sure his disguise was in place. Even though Voldemort and some of his followers were aware of his identity, Sirius was not going to take any chances. He still had a bounty on his head, after all, and was lucky enough that the Dark Lord did not seem interested in collecting it at the moment.
He pulled the door open and stopped short at the sight of Hadrian standing before him. Sirius blinked rapidly, joy burning through him at seeing the boy up and walking already. "Hadrian," he breathed out.
"Parrain," Hadrian greeted politely, "may we come in?"
It was then that he noticed the girl beside him. She was the same height as Hadrian, maybe a little taller, with dark hair and eyes and a firm set to her mouth. She was beautiful, dressed in her Beauxbatons uniform, but Sirius could not recall her name. He had seen her around Hadrian many times, but beyond that he knew next to nothing.
Which made her presence here all the more suspicious. Especially if Hadrian was openly declaring their connection in front of her.
Sirius' stomach twisted uneasily.
He stepped aside numbly, watching the two students enter. He closed the door behind them and stared at the wood for a long moment.
This was not going to end well.
"Hadrian?"
Sirius clamped his eyes closed at Lily's voice. He spun around just in time to see Hadrian purposefully, painfully, refuse Lily's hug. The boy stepped back, and the girl beside him had an expression of steel as she stared down Hadrian's mother.
"We need to talk," Hadrian said calmly, and in that moment, he looked so much like James that Sirius felt sick. "I need to talk, and I need you to listen."
Lily faltered, hearing the threat in his words. "We can talk privately," she said, gesturing at the girl pointedly.
"Raina stays," Hadrian told them, squaring his shoulders. "Nothing I say here will be a surprise to her."
Comprehension flew through Lily's eyes, and she frowned in disappointment.
Don't, Sirius thought with a wince, don't do it.
"Hadrian, tell me you didn't."
He lifted his chin, "I did. I needed someone I could trust, seeing as you no longer made the cut."
It was biting, and Lily flinched back from the attack. Sirius could feel the storm brewing in the air and he desperately wished to be somewhere – anywhere – else then in this room, about to watch Hadrian break his mother's heart.
She broke his first, a voice murmured along the edges of his mind, hauntingly familiar. An eye for an eye, and all that.
"I –"
"Stop." Hadrian cut her off, no softness in his countenance. "For once in your life listen to me."
Lily fell silent.
Hadrian took a breath, and Sirius caught how the girl – Raina – curled her hand comfortingly around Hadrian's. The silent support bolstered the boy. When he spoke, it was steady.
"All my life you pushed me to do better, to be better, to climb and lie and do whatever I had to just to succeed. And I was fine with that, because I thought that was – not normal, but our normal. We had enemies, we were being hunted, it made sense. You did that to protect us, and I am grateful for that. For the things you sacrificed to keep me safe. But that was not all you did."
Hadrian's eyes were fixed on his mother, cold as winter. "You manipulated me. You hurt me. You twisted me up to suit your interests, and whenever I faltered, whenever I made mistakes, you condemned me for it – treated me like I was worthless. You tore me down in so many different ways, and I never questioned it because you are my mother, and I love you."
Here, Hadrian paused, swallowing, his mask beginning to crack.
"Love isn't everything though," he continued, voice wavering, "especially when the person you love doesn't love you back."
Lily broke. She took a frantic step forward, hands reaching, but once more Hadrian backed away. "I do love you; I do. I swear I do. Harry, please –"
"My name is Hadrian."
It was said quietly, barely audible, but it swept Lily's legs out from under her. She froze.
Hadrian stared at her, bitterness starting to peek through. "Love isn't everything," he repeated, "not when it is like ours. We are not good for each other; I don't think we ever were. I was always a weapon in your eyes. Your golden ticket to getting revenge. I don't know when you stopped caring about me, if you ever did."
"Hadrian, please," Lily begged, learning, but it was too late. "I know I made mistakes, I know I treated you terribly. I never should have done it, any of it, but it was a mistake."
He tilted his head, considering. "So your mistakes should be forgiven, but mine are stains against my soul?"
Anger finally burst free of Lily, and Sirius closed his eyes. "You're fucking the man who murdered your father!" She almost screamed, tears spilling down her face.
Hadrian ignored her accusation, ruthlessly cutting right to the bone. "I don't have a father."
Sirius forced himself to look at him. He and Raina no longer registered in Hadrian's mind. His own torrential temper ripped loose, suffocating the room. "I don't know James Potter, I don't remember him, and I certainly don't love him. He is a ghost to me, a name and a face from a faded picture that you never even let me touch. How can he possibly be my father?"
"He loved you!" Lily hissed, her arms closing around herself as she trembled.
"He is dead," Hadrian snapped, "anything he felt ceased to matter the second his body hit the ground."
Lily's eyes widened, her face turning ashen. "Shut up," she croaked.
"No. This is the first honest, equal conversation we have ever had. You have never seen me, you never listened to me, so you will now. I am done." He swept a hand through the air, drawing a line between them. "We are through. I am never going back with you. After this tournament is finished, I am leaving. I am tired of your games, tired of your manipulations and tired of your incessant need to grind me into the ground. From this point on I will do things the way I want to do them and be who I want to be. Your 'war'?" His tone was derisive and mocking. "I want no part in it anymore. Fight your own fucking battles."
In the thick silence, Raina stepped forward. She had been silent up until now, content to merely watch. Now, she placed her hand on his forearm. "Hadrian," she murmured, gentle and yet fiercely proud.
He released a breath, eyes fluttering closed. He collected himself, pulling all the jagged pieces back together. When he opened his eyes, the icy calm was back. "Let's go," he muttered, staring blankly at his mother. Her quiet tears did not move him.
Together, Hadrian and Raina turned away and headed for the door. He stopped briefly next to Sirius, casting him an assessing look. There was no guilt or shame in him, and Sirius, with memories of his own arguments with his mother dancing at the forefront of his mind, could only give the boy a short nod.
There would be no opposition from him, not in this.
They were fools for ever thinking they had the right to drag Hadrian into this mess.
He waited until the two left, then cautiously approached Lily. She had crumpled to her knees, sobbing uncontrollably as she tried to hold herself together.
He knelt next to her, gently enfolding his arms around her and drawing her into his chest.
It was the worst thing, he thought bleakly, to be caught between two people you loved.
Warnings: Some sexual content, not dub-con or anything, but Riddle probably could have picked a better time. Hadrian and Lily break off from each other.
So. Hope everyone liked it? I'd be happy to hear your thoughts! As always, my tumblr is 'Child_OTKW'. Come along if you want to discover theories, or scream at me, or discuss my new snippets! Thanks guys!
