A/N: Hey everyone! Did you see! I updated on time haha. Not saying that in itself deserves a medal BUT I updated on time in the middle of midterm season! Now come on, at least a pat on the back?

Okay, okay fine. I'll just go study for my midterm now. Please give me a study break by leaving me new reviews to read : ) I love to read them all! Let me know what you thought of this chapter because I have already started the next one!

Enjoy!

Riddle Manor [August 4th]

Hadrian stared at the large scorch mark that stretched across the back wall, wrinkling his nose in disdain at the remaining smoke that wafted through the air after Bellatrix's little outburst.

He sighed heavily, clasping his hands over the ancient wooden table and fixing the maddening witch with a stern look. "Bellatrix," He warned in a low voice, "Do try not to overreact."

"Overreact?" Bellatrix gasped, "Me? I'm the one overreacting?"

Hadrian pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance, "Bella, you cursed her on sight. What else would you call that?"

"You've let a filthy mudblood into our meeting," Bellatrix huffed, pointing accusingly at where Hermione stood by the door, looking as though she would rather be anywhere else in the world. "You expect me to sit here quietly and allow such blasphemy?"

"I certainly didn't expect you to fire off a curse at her head the moment you saw her," Hadrian muttered, gesturing for Hermione to take the empty seat between Draco and Blaise. She hesitated for just a moment before steeling her shoulders back and walking over to her chair, ignoring the angry glare Bellatrix threw her way.

"You're letting her sit at the table with us?" Bellatrix reared back, clearly affronted. "She's a mudblood! She belongs on the floor!"

"She's not going to sit on the floor," Hadrian rolled his eyes. "Hermione is a very talented witch and I would advise you to not cross her, Bellatrix. She's far more dangerous than she looks."

As if on cue, Bellatrix turned to glance at the curly-haired witch and snorted with derision at her muggle trainers and the baby blue ribbon tying her hair up into a simple ponytail. "How dangerous can she be? She looks like she needs her daddy to tie her shoelaces for her."

Hermione bristled, "Don't talk about my father."

An expression of absolute delight spread across Bellatrix's face and her full lips twisted into a rather sinister pout, "Oh, no. Does the thought of your filthy muggle father make you upset? I would be too if I was forced to be around muggles that long."

"Mother, I wouldn't–" Destiny started to speak, only to cut herself off rather abruptly as Hermione held up a hand.

"Let her speak," Hermione cocked her head to the side, quashing down the nervousness she had felt before the meeting under a façade of polite amusement. "I'd like to humor her. I wonder what else she has to say?"

"That's a first," Draco muttered under his breath.

Bellatrix narrowed her eyes. "Disgusting," She hissed. "How could you even dare to tarnish your father's memory by allowing such filth into his home? He would be rolling in his grave if he could see you."

"It's remarkable that somehow during your silly little rant about blood purity, you've managed to stumble upon the exact point," Hadrian said dryly, leaning back in his seat with a haughty look on his handsome features. "Miss. Granger is here because she is a priceless asset to our cause. With her help, we can surely be more successful than Father was in his lifetime."

"She's a nothing but a slip of a girl!" Bellatrix shrieked in outrage. "What can she do?"

"She's here to help us decide what to do with the muggleborns in society," Draco spoke up, rolling his eyes. "Apparently she can advise us on making political reforms for an entire society, despite having no prior experience whatsoever."

Bellatrix blinked. "The muggleborns in society?" She repeated, "I don't understand–I thought the plan was to simply kill them off?" Her lips twitched in displeasure, "Starting with this one right here."

Hermione flinched unmistakably at her words and she turned to face Hadrian with an accusing glare, "Your plan was to kill all of us?"

"No," Hadrian snapped. "That was my father's plan, presumably."

"But you went along with it?" Hermione arched a brow, "For at least the past few years."

Hadrian cleared his throat uncomfortably, "Well, I wasn't exactly in a position to argue about my father's plans back then."

"For good reason!" Bellatrix piped up, "You've been in control for a year and we've already eliminated more than half of our own members, and the other half are locked up in Azkaban! For Merlin's sake, look at this meeting!"

Hadrian felt a chunk of ice settle into his stomach as his dark gaze scanned the room, almost immediately noting that the majority of the seats at the long table were noticeably empty.

"We need to do some restructuring," Draco spoke up, folding his hands on top of the table. "We've decided on a different approach, one that's a bit more… diplomatic in nature, at least on the surface."

"Diplomatic," Bellatrix sneered, as though the very idea was unthinkable, "How quaint. Are you planning on winning over the wizarding world through bake sales and volunteering at the local orphanage, then?"

"Bellatrix–" Hadrian began cautiously, "You know that's not what we meant."

"Oh, my apologies," Bellatrix snarked, "I forgot your little pet mudblood was also helping us take over the world through her rainbows and smiles and dirty blood."

"I think I've heard enough now," Hermione wrinkled her nose and dark glint appeared in her eyes, making them seem like cracked amber in the light, "I kindly ask that you keep your thoughts on my blood to yourself."

"Or what?" Bellatrix cackled. "You'll stomp your foot?"

"I'll cut out your tongue, of course," Hermione smiled pleasantly at the older witch, "That is the fastest way to force someone to remain silent, after all."

Bellatrix burst out laughing, "That's quite a threat coming from someone who I'm not convinced knows how to even read. It's a miracle they still let your kind into Hogwarts, in fact–"

Her words caught in her throat rather suddenly as she felt a sharp stinging sensation at her lips and her fingertips instinctively rose to her mouth. Bellatrix felt her eyes widen slightly as she brushed her thumb across her face and felt a shallow cut stretching from the corner of her mouth to the middle of her bottom lip. She was startled to see the dark blood that stained her fingers when she pulled them away and she raised her head up to stare at the mudblood in disbelief.

"I found that delightful little spell in one of the books in the library last week," Hermione casually informed her, dropping her hand back onto the table with a sadistic smirk. "I should thank you for getting the opportunity to test it out."

Bellatrix felt her jaw clench as she realized the little chit hadn't even bothered to pull out her wand for the complex bit of dark magic.

"Hopefully I've convinced you that I know how to do more than read," Hermione pursed her lips into a thin line and kept her unwavering gaze on the dark witch, "I can of course, give you another demonstration of my magical ability, but it'll be your tongue I'll cut out next."

"How dare you?" Bellatrix snarled, standing up from her seat with a huff and pulling out her wand in one fluid motion. She pointed it at Hermione–who didn't so much as flinch at the sight of the angry Death Eater.

"Lower your wand, Bellatrix," Hadrian commanded, slanting his cold gaze over her aggressive stance. "If you try to curse her again, I won't stop her from retaliating."

Bellatrix turned to face him with a scowl, "You really think this itty-bitty, baby mudblood could best me in a duel?"

"She's been reading about the darkest magic for years now, like the swot she is," Draco leaned back in his seat and paused, "The only reason she would lose the duel is because she doesn't share your penchant for murder. Not, because she's incompetent."

"Why are you defending that mudblood, nephew?" Bellatrix's eyes flashed, though she eventually tucked her wand back into the holster at her thin waist. She raised a brow, looking utterly repulsed by the idea as she asked, "Have you got a thing for pesky cockroaches, then?"

"Hardly," Draco snorted, "You know very well before he went to Azkaban, Father was intent on securing a betrothal contract with the Greengrass family. Astoria is the epitome of a perfect pureblood. She will make a fine Malfoy bride, don't you think, Hadrian?"

Hadrian resisted the urge to roll his eyes, knowing perfectly well that Draco would rather throw himself down the grand staircase at Malfoy Manor before he complied with an archaic betrothal contract his father had set forth. He did have a slight suspicion that Draco's question was not aimed at him and judging from the way the curly-haired witch sitting beside his friend stiffened imperceptibly, it seemed his words had their desired effect. He couldn't help but feel some pity for Hermione since he knew firsthand just how vindictive Draco could be when he didn't get what he wanted.

He cleared his throat, ignoring the spoiled prat that was his best mate as he said, "Let's get back to purpose of this entire meeting. Our numbers are far too low for us to be starting any battles at this point in time. That means we have to focus our attention on recruiting more people to our cause and figuring out a way to retrieve our captured members from Azkaban–all the while making a move to capture more power within our society."

"The fastest way to gain power would be to take over the Ministry," Blaise pointed out, "But if you weren't able to do it with a hundred Death Eaters under your father's leadership, I certainly don't know how you would be able to do it with the sixty people we have left."

"There are other ways," Neville shrugged, "Power doesn't have to be achieved through bloodshed. There has been much unrest lately due to the fact that people are finding the Ministry to be too restrictive and power-hungry, but Dumbledore is making it impossible to change anything through the Wizengamot. He may be a blubbering old fool, but he does hold a great amount of influence over our world."

Hermione bit her lip, "Why don't you–I mean–Why don't we aim for something a little simpler, then?"

Hadrian raised his eyes up to meet her inquisitive ones, waving his hand to wandlessly silence Bellatrix before she could start her angry babbling again, "What do you mean?"

"Well," She drawled out slowly, "It sounds like much of the resistance you've been experiencing is from our esteemed Headmaster, and not the Ministry itself."

He made a sound of polite encouragement, and she continued on with a determined smirk, "If your only resistance so far is from Dumbledore, then the answer is rather simple isn't it?"

She stared at them expectantly and tucked a loose curl behind her ear, "We have to get rid of Dumbledore, of course."

"That is much easier said than done," Blaise sighed. "It's not as though Dumbledore is waiting at home for us to waltz in and murder him. He's been hiding out in Hogwarts all summer."

"Hogwarts is impenetrable," Draco sneered. "If things were that simple, we would've killed Dumbledore a long time ago."

"Actually," Destiny piped up, looking at her friends nervously, "There are ways around the anti-apparition wards. The castle has many secret passageways that lead outside to Hogsmeade. The Weasley twins showed me a magical map of sorts in third year that marked all of the secret tunnels."

"And you're just mentioning this to us now?" Draco grumbled. "That would've been useful to know five bloody years ago."

"A secret passageway won't work," Neville spoke up with a frown, "It would be too difficult to smuggle in five dozen Death Eaters without alerting Dumbledore. I'm getting a headache just thinking about that logistical nightmare."

"You're so dramatic," Blaise snickered. "I still don't understand why it wouldn't be easier just to draw Dumbledore out of Hogwarts."

"It would be easier," Hermione said slowly, "But if we were able to sneak a group of your followers into Hogwarts, why stop at killing Dumbledore?"

"What, do you plan on sitting down and attending your charms class as well?" Bellatrix taunted, finally figuring out how to remove the silencing charm Hadrian had placed on her.

"I was thinking more along the lines of using Hogwarts to our advantage," Hermione gritted out, "Why bother trying to capture the Ministry when we can just control Hogwarts?"

Draco scoffed at the mere notion and even Daphne gave her a doubtful look.

Neville tilted his head to the side as he considered the idea, "No, no, she's right," He eventually concluded. "If we were able to oust Dumbledore and conquer Hogwarts, we would essentially already have a fair chunk of the wizarding population under our control, which would help our numbers greatly."

"Not just that," Hermione licked her lips and hurried to add, "You'd also be in control of the most important thing Hogwarts has to offer."

"Quidditch matches?" Blaise wrinkled his nose, "That doesn't sound like it would help us in any way, Granger–"

"Not quidditch, you twit," Hermione frowned at him, "You know there's more to Hogwarts than quidditch, right?"

"Of course I do, there's the fit witches too–"

"Blaise," She shot him a withering glance, "Please. I'm talking about–"

"Education," Hadrian breathed. "If we can control what they're teaching at Hogwarts and how things are run, we can control an entire generation of wizards, practically."

Hermione nodded, "Exactly."

"It's not a bad plan," Neville agreed after a beat of silence, "After all, like I said earlier, the public is already unhappy with the Ministry. The Order has been operating off the books for decades now and has yet to accomplish anything of significance. The people are upset about the corruption and the imbalance of power," He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, "If we play our cards right, we don't even have to worry about the Ministry."

Hermione Granger leaned back in her seat with a satisfied grin twisting at her lips, "Let the Ministry answer to the masses. They'll tear each other apart and we won't even have to lift a single finger for the Ministry to crumble."

Potter Manor [August 31st]

Alexander Potter slashed his wand through the air in a crisp arc, slicing through the practice dummy across the room with a clean cut. The sweat from his brow started to drip into his eyes and he hastily wiped his face with the back of his hand, watching the stuffed head of the dummy slide onto the floor with a soft thud.

"Impressive."

He whirled around in surprise, already pointing his wand in the direction the voice had come from. He squinted in the darkness and pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose before hesitantly calling out, "Who's there?"

His dark eyebrows rose to his hairline as he saw the silvery grey beard and twinkling blue eyes of his Headmaster as he walked into the large ballroom with a theatrical sweep of his royal purple robes. Dumbledore waved his hands and instantly the room was bathed in the warm glow of light provided from the opulent crystal chandeliers that hung from the enchanted ceiling.

"Hello, Sir," Alexander greeted politely, though he was a bit miffed his practice session had been disrupted. "What brings you to Potter Manor?"

"Your father tells me your training has been going well," Dumbledore mentioned in a light tone. He swept his gaze over the noticeably dark circles under his student's eyes and the way his clothes seemed to hang off of his dramatically thinner frame–but he made no further comment.

"I suppose so," Alexander shrugged. "I've been practicing all summer, ever since I–" He was silent for a moment, as though he were grasping to find the right words, "I suppose it doesn't matter, really."

"You must be relieved to go back to Hogwarts then," Dumbledore winked at him conspiratorially, "I'm sure you'd like a break from your father demanding you to train every second."

"Actually, my dad hasn't been around much this summer," Alexander revealed as he reached for a towel to wipe the sweat from the rest of his face, completely missing the surprise that flashed across his Headmaster's face at his statement. "He's been too busy at the office to oversee my drills."

"Ah yes, of course," Dumbledore nodded, "How thoughtful of you to keep up with your training even in his absence, Alexander."

"Not really about being thoughtful, is it?" The sandy-haired man muttered bitterly to himself, "If I don't keep practicing, I'll be dead by the end of the year–at the hands of a grimy Death Eater, no less. I don't have much of a choice in the matter."

"Help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it," Dumbledore responded with an enigmatic look in his eyes.

Alexander stared at his Headmaster skeptically over his glasses. "Right," He drawled out after a beat of awkward silence, "I'll be sure to ask for some help when I'm the only hope for the survival of my friends and family."

"There's no need to be so cynical, my boy," Albus Dumbledore smiled, though it seemed rather forced, "Though you may be destined to defeat Voldemort, you certainly won't have to do it alone."

The startling intensity of his headmaster's gaze caused Alexander to avert his eyes, turning to look at the enormous arched windows instead. He was surprised to see it was dark outside. His stomach growled loudly as if on cue, and his cheeks heated up as he realized he hadn't eaten since before he started his training for the day, nearly fourteen hours ago.

"You didn't answer my question, Headmaster," Alexander hurried to say, "I certainly wasn't expecting your company this evening. Is something wrong?"

Dumbledore shook his head, "Oh no, nothing has happened."

Alexander nodded before pursing his lips and asking bluntly, "Then why are you here?" He paused and added almost as an afterthought, "Sir."

Dumbledore's smile tightened. "Perhaps we should speak privately, Alexander."

Alexander raised a dark eyebrow, gesturing to the empty ballroom, "I can assure you, there is nobody else in my home at the moment. Dad's at the Ministry as usual and Mum is–" His voice cracked slightly and he cut himself off abruptly. He shifted his weight to his other foot and after a long pause continued on, "Nothing you say will leave this room, I promise, Sir."

"Very well, then," Albus spoke in a grave tone. "Tell me, what do you know about horcruxes?"

Alexander Potter stared at the Hogwarts Express with disdain, not keen on starting yet another insufferable school year. His father had–once again–neglected to drop him off at the train station and he had been forced to take a muggle taxi to King Cross. He supposed he easily could've penned a note to Ron or floo-called his godfather, but he didn't want to bother them with his troubles.

Besides, he had gotten used to his father's absence over the summer and after the initial first few lonely weeks in Potter Manor, he found he didn't quite mind being alone. He didn't want to go through the hassle of tracking down whatever sleazy witch's bed his father had landed himself in that night–and he certainly didn't want to admit he had spent the majority of summer by himself to anyone else.

As he boarded the train, he couldn't help but notice the shocking white-blonde hair of Narcissa Malfoy through the window as she fawned over her son. She was quite the imposing witch, standing tall with her head held high, despite the fact that her husband had landed himself in prison only a few months ago. He watched as she fixed Draco's hair and then turned to Hadrian Riddle and shook her head at him fondly, smoothing her hand over the crisp blazer he wore. He scowled and turned back to the compartment he had just entered, barking at a small boy in a Hufflepuff tie to get lost. He plopped himself down onto the uncomfortable seat and closed his eyes, cursing at the unfairness of it all.

He was the bloody Chosen One. So then why did it seem like Hadrian -fucking-Riddle had a better life than him?

Alexander rubbed a tired hand over his face and leaned his head back against the padded wall. Even Draco Malfoy had a family that cared about him. Hadrian Riddle was literally an orphan and it seemed like Narcissa Malfoy still treated him like her own son.

He gritted his teeth together in anger. He hadn't felt that kind of warmth since his father had thrown his Mum in prison, almost an entire year ago. She had never missed dropping him off at the station until this year. He could still remember the way she had tried to fix his hair before he boarded the train, and he had slapped her hands away in embarrassment.

His heart clenched as he realized he would do anything to have her back in that moment.

Being the Chosen One sucked, he decided. Not only had it torn his entire family apart, but it had taken him nearly his entire life to realize he was destined to fight a losing battle. Ever since Dumbledore had explained to him about You-Know-Who's horcruxes the night before, he could not see any hope in his current situation.

How was he supposed to kill a wizard who quite literally had an unlimited number of lives?

He wasn't sure how much time had passed since he was lost in his thoughts, but then the door to his compartment suddenly slammed open and Alexander jerked in his seat, immediately pulling his wand out and pointing it at the intruder. He relaxed slightly when he realized it was only his friends and he slowly lowered the wand and tucked it back into his pocket.

"Alright there, mate?" Dean Thomas clapped him on the back and loaded his trunk on the rack above their heads, "We've been looking for you this entire train ride. You look like you've seen a ghost."

"I'm fine," He mumbled, offering them all a wan smile, "It's good to see you all."

"Is it?" Parvati Patil raised a thin eyebrow at him, placing a hand on her hip, "You haven't responded to any of my owls all summer."

"Oh, lay off of him, Parvati," Ron rolled his eyes. "You only went on two dates last term and you're already acting like the spurned lover," He snickered, pulling a pink-cheeked Lavender Brown onto his lap. The ditzy girl squealed softly, kissing his nose as she threw her arms around his neck.

Alexander felt his lips twitch in annoyance, and he turned away from the happy couple, sharing a grimace with Parvati as she settled into the seat beside him. Her dark eyes were searching as she pulled his hand into hers and whispered, "Hey, is everything alright, Alexander? Nobody has even seen a glimpse of you since we visited you at St. Mungos at the end of last term."

"I'm fine," He insisted. He could tell she wasn't about to drop the subject, so he hurried to ask, "How was visiting your grandmother in India?"

Parvati's eyes lit up and she easily launched into a long story about her holiday, "Well, as you can tell, my Aaji wasn't very happy that my sister had been branded an alcoholic by the wizarding elite in England, so as soon as we arrived in India, she sent Padma off to some Ayurvedic retreat for recovering addicts so she could be purified or some nonsense like that. Padma told me she had to mediate for at least four hours of the day and she almost went crazy…"

Alexander easily tuned her excited chatter out and he kept his unfocused gaze on the window to his compartment. As multiple students raced through the long halls in the train, he couldn't help but wonder if one of them was his brother. What if his brother had been right there his entire life, passing by him in the corridors, sitting next to him in class–and he hadn't even realized it?

He caught a flash of a green and silver tie outside the window and he stood up abruptly, startling Parvati enough to halt the retelling of her summer. She pursed her lips into a thin line, "Alexander?" She curled her hand around his arm, "What's the matter?"

"Bathroom," He blurted out. He cursed internally as he saw her confusion turn into amusement and he quickly added, "I-uh, I have to go piss."

She wrinkled her brows together in concern and nodded slowly, "Oh-uh-of course, sorry."

He felt guilty for her obvious unease and so he bent down to kiss her cheek, causing her to blush furiously as he pulled away, "I won't be too long, I promise."

"We're almost there, so try to hurry!" She called out, just before he grabbed a small bundle from his bag and shut the door behind him.

He walked through the nearly empty corridor, casually checking each compartment as he went by. He started to feel a bit disgruntled as he had almost reached the end of the train and all he had done was nod in greeting at a couple students and tried to ignore the hushed whispers from some of the younger kids as he passed by. He was just about to call it quits and start heading back to his original compartment when he saw them.

He checked the empty corridor once again before he shook out the folded-up cloak in his arms, watching with fascination as the shimmery material turned translucent as he tossed it over himself. He waited in the hallway until he saw Neville Longbottom and Blaise Zabini walk towards the compartment he was standing in front of. Before he could change his mind, he hurried in after they had entered the compartment and stood in the very corner of the room, pressing himself up against the wall as quietly as he could.

Neville frowned as the door took longer to close behind him than usual. But after a second he turned back and plopped himself onto the ground in front of Destiny Lestrange. He tilted his head back against her legs and she absentmindedly began to play with his hair as she spoke to the curly-haired witch beside her.

Alexander was honestly surprised by the casual intimacy the Slytherins seemed to exhibit, since he had thought all of them were just the cold byproducts of old pureblood society. He was also extremely shocked to see the baby Death-Eater Lestrange conversing so casually with Hermione Granger–though he knew they were friends of sort, he didn't think the Slytherins would actually entertain a muggleborn like her.

A loud laugh echoed through the full compartment and Alexander turned his attention to Zabini as he shook his head in disbelief, "We aren't even in school yet and you're already skipping out on professors. Slughorn asked about you, you know."

Riddle smirked arrogantly, "Let him ask. I don't answer to him–or anyone for that matter."

Daphne Greengrass rolled her eyes from under the arm he had possessively wrapped around her, "Hadrian, you could always stand to better your reputation with these professors. You know they already don't trust any of us because of our house."

"For good reason," Granger chuckled, "You've broken a dozen school rules within the first three days of every term."

"You're one to talk, Hermione," Neville piped up with a teasing smile, "Should I recount the time Daphne and Nott caught you in that broom closet during their patrols?"

"You said you didn't tell anyone about that!" Hermione Granger whipped her head back to frown at Greengrass. "You said you would keep it a secret!"

"No," The blonde drawled slowly with a small smile twisting at her perfect lips, "I said I would keep who you were with in that closeta secret," She smiled prettily at her friend, "Which, I did."

"It's not hard to guess that part though," Hermione huffed.

"Oh, was it Potter? Or no, let me guess, it was Weasley." Draco Malfoy snapped at her, "Seeing as you are so fond of them that you turned your back on our si–"

"Enough, Draco," Neville cut him off all of a sudden, exchanging a furtive glance with Riddle. "We get it."

Riddle cleared his throat, changing the subject, "What did Slughorn even want?"

Zabini shrugged, "He's going off inviting the most influential students in our year to join some group called the 'Slug Club'. It was sickening, really, like we were just dolls being added to his collection."

"But then why not invite Draco?" Destiny pursed her lips, "He's a Malfoy, shouldn't Slughorn be begging him to join his stupid club?"

Neville averted his gaze uncomfortably, "I don't think he wants to be associated with–well you know, Draco's father got sent to Azkaban a few months ago and–"

"Oh, I see," Malfoy swallowed hard. "He thinks father is a–"

"I think we're here, Draco" Riddle quickly jumped in to say. He gestured around them and spoke quietly, "I think we should get ready to leave."

Alexander Potter watched curiously as the rest of the Slytherins seemed to listen to him and they all rose slowly to grab their things. He held in a breath and retreated as far back as he could into the corner of the compartment.

"I'll just be a minute," Hadrian Riddle was telling his girlfriend as she turned to look at him with a questioning glance, "Draco can get your trunk for you."

"I've got it," Daphne waved off his protests, "I'm a perfectly capable witch."

Alexander almost gasped as the blonde witch reached past him to grab the shrunken down trunk pressed up against his leg. She didn't seem to notice his presence, thankfully, because her expression remained perfectly blank as she turned back to face Riddle.

He tried to stay silent as he watched the group slowly filter out of the compartment, until soon it was just Riddle and Daphne Greengrass left. He started to get worried they would decide to take advantage of the empty compartment, even if they were due to be at the sorting feast rather soon, but to his relief they simply made moon-eyes at each other for a long moment before Daphne picked up her trunk to leave.

He watched as she paused for a second and pressed a chaste kiss to the corner of Riddle's mouth and whispered, "Not too much."

He didn't have time to ponder the oddity of her words before she sauntered out of the room and Hadrian Riddle walked over to close the compartment door. His face remained aloof as he lowered the blinds and turned back to look at the seemingly empty space.

Alexander felt his blood turn to ice as he heard Riddle let out a low chuckle, "I thought I told you to stay away from us in second year, Potter."

"What did you do to him?" Draco raised an eyebrow, watching as McGonagall hauled Alexander Potter into the feast by his ear. His crisp white uniform was stained with dark blood, but that did nothing to detract from the sight of his broken, bloodied nose and the dark purple circles under his eyes.

"Told him to keep his nose out of other people's business," Hadrian shrugged, taking a sip of his glass.

"Did anyone see you?" Daphne asked him, smiling over at one of the little first years who was newly sorted into their house.

"Of course not," Hadrian snorted. "Besides, I didn't even rough him up too badly."

"Good old-fashioned muggle violence," Blaise grinned. "Best form of wandless magic there is, I'd say."

"I don't know how I didn't realize it sooner," Daphne mused out loud, running her fingers through the silky strands of Hadrian's dark hair as he laid his head in her lap in their room later that night.

His eyelids fluttered, reluctant to fully open and he mumbled sleepily, "Realize what?"

Daphne was silent for a moment, deep in thought as she watched the bright flames flicker away in the ornate fireplace. It brought a comforting feeling of warmth into the cold dungeons, wrapping around her bare shoulders like a blanket as they lounged on the rug by the fire.

Normally she would have been opposed to curling up on the stone floor when they had perfectly good furniture in the room, but Hadrian had managed to persuade her easily enough with a few lingering kisses and whispered endearments. The expensive bottle of wine he had smuggled into Hogwarts and the charcuterie board he had somehow managed to sneak up from the kitchens earlier had also played a large part in crumbling her resolve.

Absentmindedly, she reached for her wineglass and swiped a grape from the finely carved wooden board sitting beside her. Daphne took a small sip, carefully setting it back down beside the pure white rug. She felt cool fingertips brush over her hand, and she glanced down to see Hadrian staring up at her with his piercing emerald eyes as he gently pressed a kiss to the inside of her wrist.

His lips curved into a small smile, "What did you realize, love?"

Daphne fought hard to control the way her cheeks flushed, and she cleared her throat, looking back up at the dancing flames in the fireplace. "Your birthday. I–I mean, you have the same birthday as him, July 31st."

"A lot of people are born on the same day," Hadrian pointed out. "There's only three-hundred and sixty-five of them in a year and billions of people in this world."

"You know that's not what I meant," She huffed. "You have the same birthday as Alexander Potter. Of course, you're twins. I find it hard to believe I couldn't put it all together before this year."

"To be fair," He nipped at her fingers playfully while she fed him another grape, "You didn't have the most important part of the puzzle before this year."

"Ah yes, since you had to tell Draco about your family first," She rolled her eyes and added sarcastically, "Seeing as he was your first love and all. I suppose you do have a thing for blondes."

He made a face then and Daphne had to laugh at his horrified expression.

"Don't even joke about that," Hadrian complained, trying not to smile as her soft hair lightly brushed over his face when she laughed, creating an almost ticklish sensation., "You know you've always been my first love."

"Oh, your first love?" She arched a brow, "I certainly hope you don't intend on running away with a second, third, or fourth love in the future."

"I like it when you get possessive," He smirked, "Even if it is of Draco, of all people."

"You call that possessive?" Daphne shook her head in disbelief, "Remember when you pushed my date for the Yule Ball down the stairs in fourth year? That was possessive."

Hadrian scowled immediately at the mere mention of the Bulgarian idiot, ignoring the smug look Daphne shot him. His eyes darkened and he suddenly leaned up to roughly press his lips against hers, only softening slightly when he felt her fingers come to play with the soft hair at the nape of his neck. She pulled away from him soon after for air and he dropped his head back into her lap, closing his eyes to avoid her questioning gaze.

He was quiet for a moment, content to have his ears filled with the sound of the flames crackling in the hearth and the steady sound of their breathing returning to normal. She was still peering at him curiously when he opened his eyes, as though he were a confusing move her opponent had made in those chess games that she was so fond of.

"I wanted to kill him, you know," Hadrian admitted, watching her pretty face closely. She kept her expression carefully blank, and he swallowed hard before forcing out, "I seriously contemplated it when I saw him under the lake during the second task. In fact, I was going to do it if the Merpeople hadn't stopped me," His lips curled into a small sneer, "They thought I was trying to save him when I would've been perfectly happy to watch him drown."

Daphne exhaled sharply at his words and she stared down at him with an undecipherable look in her dark blue gaze for a few long seconds. She brushed a piece of hair out of his eyes and eventually murmured, "We probably shouldn't see other people then," A sheepish smile graced her features and she added, "I don't think either of us want to end up in Azkaban."

He barked out a quiet laugh and shook his head, "No, we wouldn't want that."

"I suppose I can settle for being your final love," Daphne pretended to sigh. "As long as you can tell your blondes apart," She teased.

"I think I can manage," He remarked dryly. "I'm pretty sure it was your little moans I heard not even an hour ago when you were wrapped around me."

"Hadrian!" She gasped at his crudeness. "Wait a second, you're only pretty sure?" She echoed his words with an impish little grin, "Perhaps you need a reminder then."

"Merlin yes," He breathed, trailing his heated gaze over the short satin nightgown she had taken to wearing to sleep lately. He easily closed the distance between them to capture her lips in a searing kiss, dropping a hand to curl around the silky slope of her hip to pull her closer. He pressed a trail of soft kisses down her throat and his fingertips slowly traced up her smooth thighs to slip under the lacey hem of her pale pink nightdress.

He had just managed to pull down one of her thin straps when she suddenly broke away from him with wide eyes. He frowned, opening his mouth to ask her what was wrong when Daphne blurted out, "Oh Merlin, you're the Dark Lord."

Hadrian closed his mouth, bewildered by her sudden announcement. "Yes." He drawled out, though it sounded more like a question. He ran a hand through his hair, "I wasn't aware that was a point of contention."

"No, no," She shook her head, looking at him as though he was the confused one. She took a deep breath and whispered urgently, "You're not the Chosen One."

"I know–one cannot be both, usually," He pursed his lips into a thin line. "Are you feeling alright, darling?" He pressed a hand to her forehead in concern, "It's me, Hadrian–"

Daphne batted his hands away with an annoyed look, "I know that! Blast it all, I'm not explaining this very well, am I?"

She didn't wait for an answer as she sat up on her knees and cupped his face tenderly. He wrapped his arms around her waist, eager to pull her closer, but she stopped him with a serious murmur, "Hadrian," She stared at him intently, "You share a birthday with your brother–at the end of the seventh month."

"Yes, it's not all that surprising considering we're twins," He stared at her incredulously, "Is this what you were thinking about while we were–"

"Your parents–your biological ones, the Potters," She hurriedly cut him off. "They hurt you. They neglected you and eventually abandoned you when you were just a child. How many times do you think they betrayed you?"

Hadrian felt his fingertips dig into her hips at the mere mention of his past family and he forced himself to let out a shaky breath and dropped his arms at his sides. "What are you getting at, Daphne?" He finally asked hoarsely, "I can't even count how many ways they ruined my life."

Her eyes flashed a stormy shade of blue and she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. He could feel her hushed breath dance over his skin as she hesitantly asked, "At least thrice?"

He gave her an odd look and shrugged, "I suppose."

"And–" She bit her lip and Hadrian found his eyes automatically drawn to them even as she spoke, "When you had your burst of accidental magic at your birthday party all those years ago–didn't Alexander get hurt?"

"That's how he got that stupid little scar on his forehead," Hadrian smirked. "Everyone thought it was the work of the Dark Lord somehow, but it was my magic that–"

He froze and his words trailed off rather abruptly as Daphne's strange behavior and the barrage of her unusual questions suddenly made sense.

Daphne must have seen the understanding wash over his face because she continued breathlessly, "You marked him, in a sense. Not on purpose, but a mark is still a mark."

"There's no possible way…"

Daphne shook her head and recited perfectly the same prophecy he had absently shared with her months ago. A prophecy he hadn't even bothered to remember, classifying it as silly drivel in the end, but she had clearly committed to memory.

"Hadrian," She began slowly, peering up at him underneath her thick, sooty lashes, "The reason you were both able to pick up the prophecy in the Department of Mysteries wasn't because the Order was unsure which twin was the Chosen One. It was because the Prophecy applied to you both," She said confidently. "It was because the Dark Lord the Seer was referring to was never supposed to be your father."

Daphne pressed her trembling hands against his chest, tilting her head up to stare at him with almost reverent eyes, "Hadrian, the Dark Lord in the Prophecy is supposed to be you. It's always been you."