For the first time, perhaps in his whole life, Hadrian stepped out of the fireplace without the slightest stumble ruining his docile composure. He didn't let that fact shock him, quickly blaming it on his desperate need to impress his lord, or the extra effort to remain steady despite his nerves. Either way, Hadrian remained upright as he looked to the floor bowing his head to the imposing presence in the room.
His lord was much as he remembered him. The skin tight and pale on his face, the veins visible and making him look unhealthy. While Harry was taller than the last time they met, his lord still towered over him, physically and metaphysically. The Dark Lord was a statue in front of the fireplace, awaiting the guest of honour. And Hadrian had made sure he was precisely on time.
"Welcome, Hadrian Lestrange, to my home. This is Slytherin manor."
The ancient magic of the residence flowed around the teen, weaved into the strongest wards Hadrian had set foot in. He felt safe, despite the dangerous man in front of him. The room seemed to be an old parlour, the walls just grey stone and the floor hard concrete under his feet. The manor was refurbished shortly after he was born, but it seemed there wasn't much his lord had changed. The furniture, the portraits and antiques all old and regal, like those a man as powerful and respected as Salazar Slytherin would have surrounded himself with.
"I'm honoured to be here my lord. I was admittedly both nervous and excited to hear you wanted to spend the day with me." Hadrian turned his glowing green eyes to his lord from under his lashes.
"Yes, well I suppose we shouldn't waste any more time. We're having breakfast in my personal living area, I'll lead the way as I start with just what my political position is, and what yours will be after we're married."
The journey was quite long, although Harry didn't seem to notice. And the surroundings shifted around him with each step, missing any details as he enveloped himself in his lord's words.
Voldemort was the Dark Overlord of Wizarding Britain. Before Hadrian's birth, and for a short while after, the whole ministry was run differently. The Dark Lord fought to change the repressive way the wizarding world seemed to run, and there was fierce opposition. Britain was at war. However, there was a prophecy. The other side held out their hopes when they heard there was a child destined to stop everything in favour of their side. The child was hidden in protective custody, hidden to be raised as their weapon against him.
"What happened, my lord?" Hadrian asked, enraptured.
"I discovered where they were hidden and eliminated the problem. Without a prophecy to hide behind, the public lost hope. And I took over."
He changed how everything worked. It wasn't a democracy anymore, he was in control of everything. He couldn't make a new bill or law without the acceptance of a new parliament filled with mostly his followers. So he had shaped the world to how he wanted it. Muggle-borns who didn't remain as part of the wizarding community had their magic bound and were banished to the muggle world, for both themselves and their family. They were also placed in mandatory primary schools that had a heavier focus on the wizarding culture so they knew more about the world they belonged to.
"I thought the aim was to completely get rid of muggle-borns," Hadrian frowned.
"The more extreme of my followers want that. Your parents, for example. My aim is for the useless muggle-borns to be eradicated, the ones who come and learn to control magic so they can return to their world with our gift like it means nothing. And now those scum are gone, the productive muggle-borns add to the magical gene pool. Now, we have a stronger world, and most are happy with it. There's rebellion, like the woman who came to you all those years ago. But they have nothing but hope and a foolish man guiding them."
"Then why did she come for me? Is our...betrothal public knowledge?" His frown deepened.
"That isn't important." His lord hissed, reminding Harry he was meant to only speak when spoken to. "Your role in my world is a more pressing topic."
He explained that Harry was taking a role similar to Narcissa Malfoy. He went to social events on his husband's arm, didn't speak against him in public and look after any children they had once they decided on a method of conceiving. He had the added responsibilities of being a queen among the Death Eaters. He wouldn't travel anywhere alone, he had to hold himself above everyone because he would then be above them, and he had to act like an adult twice his age about topics he might know nothing about.
"I will try my best to be the consort you signed up for," Harry smiled.
A frisson of panic shot through him as he saw the corners of his lord's mouth turn down a fraction, causing a frown on the lips he could barely see but knew were there. The conversation ended there, and silence followed them into the parlour they were having breakfast in. A sleek black piano caught Hadrian's eye, reminding him of his plan to apologise for insulting his lord.
"I've started writing something for you, my lord," he smiled. "May I play you what I've written so far?"
At the Dark Lord's slight nod, Hadrian settled himself on the piano bench. His fingertips caressed the ivories and he relaxed into his usual bubble of peace. He pressed the cords and the flow of music made him feel loose despite the audience. He'd practised and played the short piece so many times he was confident his performance would be well received.
"I've long since grown from the childish notions held by those my age. I've walked away from the shallows in society, following the grace of my light. So much you've taught me, more than you know, that beauty is only skin deep. It's your touch that leaves me breathless, the magic of it all, that draws me to your side. Two sides of the same whole, always waiting for more. One cannot thrive without the other. Like darkness and light, like pain and pleasure, like you and I."
The words slotted into the melody as easy as melted butter, smooth and sweet as they flowed together. Few had heard Hadiran's singing voice, but it was strong as it floated around the room and carried his message. He was confident with his words and in his talent. But he was still nervous, so thought it best to sing with his eyes closed. And tried not to shudder when the last notes played and he felt long fingers curl over his shoulder.
"You wrote this? For me, in fact?"
Hadrian tried to find a hint of emotion in the quiet voice, but there was no sign of approval or disappointment or anything helpful. "Yes, my lord. After the comment I made last we met, and you kissed me, it became obvious how shallow I was being. Regardless of appearance, that kiss made me feel warm. I wouldn't have complained if you'd kissed me again."
His fingers tensed on the younger man's shoulder, before sliding down his front and along his collarbone. Hadrian had a moment to inhale before a hand wrapped around his throat and tightened to make any more breathing uncomfortable. The Dark Lord pulled, dragging him up from the piano stool and backwards slightly. Front pressed to Hadrian's back and grip still tight on his neck, he pressed his lipless mouth to the youngster's ear. Hadrian shuddered again.
"You're ready to see the truth, for what I really look like. Now, I'm sure you'll appreciate it a lot more." He hissed, voice shifting from a hiss to smooth tone. "Now turn around."