A/N: WARNING: THIS CHAPTER WILL GIVE YOU DIABETES, so check your insulin or glucose levels before reading, or whatever. It's so sweet and sappy, but also, I almost cried while writing it. Sorry in advance, but it had to happen! Love you all and Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays!
Also hint hint, but it would mean the world if all you guys could review, as my annual Christmas present, of course
P.S If you really want to vibe, you should play Lana Del Rey's "Young and Beautiful" while reading this. You'll know when ;)
Enjoy and Happy Holidays!
Malfoy Manor [December 24th]
When Draco Malfoy stepped out of the floo late into the night, he noticed his home was almost unbearably silent. He made his way out of the parlor, crossing the threshold to walk over to the main staircase that led up to his wing of the manor. He had just curled his hand around the bannister when he noticed the glow of soft light peeking out from under the doors of the library. He frowned and stepped away from the stairs, wondering who would be in the library at such an odd hour.
Draco wrapped his hand around the wand in his robes as he quietly pushed open the heavy wooden doors and crept into the grand library. He let his confused gaze sweep across the room, between the stacks of books that stretched all the way up to the impossibly high ceiling. He wasn't sure whether to laugh or to roll his eyes when he saw the small figure curled up on one of the leather couches in the back, lightly snoring over a book.
Of course, it was Granger.
He wasn't even sure why he was surprised to discover her frizzy coffee-colored curls tumbling over the side of the sofa, her cheek resting against an open page as she slept soundly. He assessed her uncomfortable-looking hunched position with furrowed brows: How was it even possible to sleep like that?
His mother had set up the irritating witch in a plushy guest bedroom, complete with her own reading nook and luxurious ensuite bathroom. He had it on good authority that the massive bed in her rooms had the softest eiderdown pillows and finest silk sheets money could buy, directly imported from New Delhi.
But here she was, fast asleep over a book in the library–again.
He doubted the stiff sofa and what looked like a thick volume on 13th century blood magick served as an adequate mattress and pillow. He knew the chit got all hot and bothered for her ancient tomes, but this was ridiculous, even for her.
He sighed quietly to himself before he closed the short distance between them and walked over to her side. He grumbled under his breath as he dropped down to his knees in front of the couch, attempting to slide the book out from under her cheek so he could conjure it into a pillow, at least. After a few moments of fumbling, he decided he was being too gentle and tried to pull the book out from underneath her with one smooth tug. Unfortunately, he seemed to underestimate his own strength, and the book and the witch came tumbling over the side of the couch into his arms.
Hermione Granger grunted as she was suddenly shaken awake, rather rudely if she were to judge. She blinked a few times to shake the disoriented feeling of sleep away. Her eyes widened when she saw the familiar silvery gaze staring down at her in surprise.
"Malfoy," She hesitated, feeling his warm arms holding her against his broad chest, "What are you–" She let out a yelp as he dropped her abruptly onto the floor and immediately backed away from the couch.
"Sorry–" He blurted out when she touched her shoulder with a soft groan. "I didn't mean to–"
"What the hell were you thinking?" She demanded to know, pulling herself back onto the couch with a glare. "Don't you know it's rude to wake a sleeping witch?"
He froze for a second, before remembering that he was Draco-fucking-Malfoy, and this was his bloody house. He voiced his thoughts, as such, and was rewarded with an angry scowl.
"I'm too exhausted to deal with this right now," She shook her head at him and ran a hand through her hair, wincing as she inevitably hit a snag. "Why did you wake me up?"
"Granger, you have a whole bleeding room to yourself," He crossed his arms, "Why are you hunched over a book in the library at three in the morning, you stupid witch?"
"It wasn't like I was planning on it," She argued hotly, "I was just reading about these interesting rituals and I lost track of time and fell asleep."
"How long have you been in here, Granger?" He raised an eyebrow, raking his eyes over her wrinkled shirt and the tight muggle denims that hugged every curve of her shapely legs.
She blushed slightly under his heated stare, "I just needed a break, Malfoy. I haven't been in here that long."
"A break?" He questioned, looking adorably confused as he wrinkled his nose, "From what?"
Hermione averted her gaze, "I-I just-"
"Well, go on, spit it out. Any day now would be just fine."
She shot him a harsh glare. "I was hiding from your mother, alright?" She huffed, "Are you happy now?"
"Hiding from my mother?" He stared at her for a short second before he guffawed, "Why in Merlin's name would you need to hide from my mother?"
"She's been flitting about me all day, Malfoy," She told him dryly, unamused by his reaction. "I've looked at forty different ice sculptures today and had to vet three orchestras that all sounded the bloody same to me. I had to look at an entire catalogue of napkin rings and I genuinely think if she shows me another tablecloth swatch, I will dry heave."
"Why didn't you just tell her you needed some space?" Draco incredulously gestured to the stacks of books, "You know, instead of hiding out in our library like some kind of a fugitive."
"Well, I didn't want to be rude, so I had to get creative," She said snidely, "Of course, you wouldn't know anything about that."
"You hid out in the library," He sneered at her, "How unoriginal,"
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Oh, Granger," Draco shook his head at her in disappointment, "For someone so intelligent, you can lack simple common sense at times, you know?"
"You–"
"Did you really think this wasn't the first place my mother would've thought to look for your bushy little head?" He cut off her protests easily. "Of course, she knew you were in here."
"Oh," The angry retort died on the tip of her tongue. She frowned, "Why didn't she come get me, if she knew where I was the entire time?"
"My mother is probably smarter than all of us combined, Granger," He told her. "She knew you needed the space and wanted to give it to you in the most gracious way."
"Why didn't she dismiss me, then?" Hermione wondered aloud, "I spent the last two hours with her thinking I would offend her if I didn't select the right crystal glasses."
"Yes, but," He smirked, "Now you feel guilty for avoiding her. So guilty, perhaps, that you probably promised yourself to make more of an effort tomorrow."
Hermione gasped. She distinctly remembered thinking those exact words as she snuck into the library hours ago, trying to justify her hasty retreat during the fruit tarte selection.
Draco shot her a smug look as the comprehension dawned on her face, "I told you, she could probably outsmart us all."
"This is your mother's world and we're all just living in it," She mumbled, shocked that the innocent looking older woman had manipulated her so easily.
"Imagine growing up in the same house," He laughed, "It was impressive how she made sure I ate all the vegetables on my plate and tricked me into completing all my lessons every single day."
"That is rather impressive," Hermione cracked a smile at that, thinking of a little blonde boy pouting over his carrots. She was honestly surprised by their amicable interaction so far, and she hesitantly gestured to the seat beside her on the sofa, "Speaking of, I read something fascinating while I was in here."
He stared at the space beside her uncertainly and shoved his hands into his pockets, "Oh–uh–perhaps you can share it with us all tomorrow at breakfast, since it's already rather late."
Her eyes dropped back down to the ground and she nodded. "Right," She muttered, "Of course."
Draco was surprised to see the crestfallen look on her face, and he cursed himself internally. "Or," He found himself already crossing the small space between them to sit beside her, "Or I suppose I have just enough time to see what horribly boring historical fact about ancient runes has caught your attention now."
"You make it sound like I read textbooks for fun," Hermione complained.
"But" He furrowed his brows, "You actually do do that."
"Semantics," She waved her hand dismissively, scooting next to him to shove the heavy tome she had been pouring over into his lap.
Draco was startled as she leaned over to point at something in the text, and her fluffy brown curls were shoved into his face. He almost sneezed as her soft hair tickled his nose while she explained what she had been reading about before she had fallen asleep. He was so focused on avoiding choking on her hair–and also discreetly admiring the curve of her chest as she brushed against him–that he completely missed everything she was excitedly babbling about.
"And I think the idea is a little unconventional," She was saying once he regained his concentration, "But do you think it will work?"
He blinked at her in confusion. "What?" He choked out, feeling his throat suddenly tighten under her honey-eyed stare. He felt her thigh press up against his as she shifted in her seat and he swallowed hard.
"Are you even listening to me?" She smacked his chest lightly in annoyance, "I just told you I think I've figured out a solution to our whole muggleborn dilemma."
Draco gave her a blank stare and she sighed, beginning to run through her idea again. He forced himself to listen to her words intently this time and he was somewhat impressed by the plans she had come up with.
But he would never tell her that, for the sole reason that it was far more entertaining when she argued with him over anything and everything. And so, he brought up an archaic statute they barely even recognized anymore as a rebuttal–anything to watch the angry spark in her eyes flare up again.
He was content to argue with her well into the early hours of the morning, and he had a suspicion she enjoyed hurling her clever little scathing comments at him just as much as he did. It was alarmingly easy for both of them to lose track of time as they went on multiple tangents and debated different magical theories.
Which was why Draco Malfoy was not surprised in the slightest when he woke up the next morning, still stretched out over the blasted couch in his library. He was surprised, however, to find the petite witch curled into his chest, breathing softly against his neck in her sleep. Even more shocking was the fact that her massive bushy curls hadn't suffocated him overnight.
"Well, well, well," A suave voice called out, "What an interesting sight."
"Shut it, Blaise," Draco scowled at the other man, fixing his sleep-tousled hair carefully with the arm not wrapped around the witch. "Go away."
"I'm afraid I can't do that," Blaise was smirking at him now, "Your mother has requested your presence at breakfast. I told her I would go searching for you both, but it's unlikely she doesn't already know exactly where you are."
"Fantastic," Draco let out a sigh, closing his eyes again and stretching out the painful crick in his neck from the stiff couch.
"So," Blaise rocked back on his heels, looking almost gleeful. "Isn't she a good kisser?"
Draco snapped his eyes back open. "Get the fuck out," The blond hissed at him. "I'm going to kick your scrawny arse if you don't get out of here in the next two seconds."
"There's nothing scrawny about my arse," Blaise scoffed. He noticed the dark expression on his friend's face and held up his hands in surrender, "Fine, alright, I'll go. I need to find a camera anyways–Neville won't even believe me about this one otherwise. I'm not losing another bet just because I don't have proof," He grinned and pointed to him sternly, "Stay put, now."
"Don't even think about it, Zabini!" Draco growled, not liking the faux innocent look his friend wore one bit.
The Greengrass Estate [December 25th]
Daphne Greengrass smoothed her shaking hands over the front of her dress, staring at her reflection in the floor length mirror with a critical eye. Her mother had commissioned to have her dress designed by an exclusive designer in Paris, and Daphne had fallen in love with the gauzy blush-colored material the second she had unzipped it from the garment bag.
The bodice of the dress was painstakingly hand sewn with glittering crystals and delicate beading. It fit her tall, lithe figure perfectly, gently hugging her chest and waist before dropping over her hips with a skirt made of impossibly soft tulle. When she stepped into her matching, thin strapped heels, the dress just barely touched the floor, making it seem as though she was gliding across the room with every step she took.
Sparkling diamonds dripped from her ears, complimenting the stunning jeweled necklace she wore. She had gathered her long hair over one shoulder, securing the cascading golden waves in place with a few finely crafted crystal pins. It left her shoulders exceedingly bare, and she couldn't help but notice the dark purple scar that now decorated her otherwise unblemished pale skin.
Her eyes narrowed at the sole imperfection and she mumbled a spell, watching with satisfaction as her glamour charm disguised the mark and blended it into the light shadows of her collarbone flawlessly. Unless someone peered closely at it, it was practically invisible to the casual observer.
She bit her lip, her gaze still fixated at where the magic blurred the scar into her skin. She looked–
"Beautiful," A voice called out, seemingly appearing out of thin air.
Daphne gasped softly as she met striking green eyes in the mirror. She was about to whirl around, but a heavy hand curled around her waist, holding her in place.
She shook her head, "Hadrian, what are you doing in my rooms–You know it would be so improper if someone were to catch you– "
"If someone catches me," Hadrian reminded her with an unconcerned drawl. His other hand trailed down the milky expanse of her bare back, and Daphne shivered involuntarily. She let her eyes flutter shut as he began to zip up her dress at an agonizingly slow pace.
She felt his lips gently brush against the nape of her neck, pressing a soft kiss to the juncture where her throat began to slope down into her shoulders.
"Almost perfect," He whispered into her ear as he deliberately turned her to face him, "But I still think something is missing."
Before she could question him, he pulled her small hand into his own. She blinked at him curiously when Hadrian reached into the inside pocket of his robes and pulled out a satin navy-blue box. Her breath caught in her throat when he pried open the jewelry box and her eyes met the sparkling diamond ring, framed by a set of smaller sapphires in a platinum band.
"I know it doesn't quite match your dress tonight," His lips twitched upwards slightly, "But the sapphires–"
"They've always been my favorite," Daphne breathed, still unable to tear her gaze away from the stunning ring.
"They match your eyes," Hadrian brushed his thumb over her knuckles as he said, "They were the first thing I noticed about you all those years ago."
His hand tilted her chin up, cupping her cheek tenderly as he whispered, "You were the prettiest girl I had ever seen." His eyes darkened as he stroked her cheekbone, "I kept sneaking glances at you standing there in the crowd with those perfect pink lips and that gorgeous golden hair." He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her closer as he mused, "They probably wouldn't even realize what you were capable of when you flashed them that innocent smile of yours."
Daphne stood frozen in his arms as he stared at her with an emotion so intense, she couldn't even recognize it. A small flush of heat crept up her skin as his thumb absentmindedly began to caress the slope of her hip.
"You could kill a man or two and spin a web of a thousand lies," Hadrian smirked at her, "They'd believe every single one, too."
Daphne blinked, "What are–"
She didn't get a chance to finish her sentence as his lips pressed against hers in a chaste kiss. She could feel a small moan at the back of her throat as his hand curled around the nape of her neck, and a small protest almost fell from her lips when he eventually pulled away.
"Sometimes–" He faltered slightly as he admitted, "Sometimes I think you were made to test us all. Made to test me."
She shot him a questioning look but instead of giving her an answer, he turned her back to face the full-length, gold-plated mirror that hung in her room. He met her steady gaze in the reflection as he whispered, "You were sculpted to show how blindly us mere mortals admire beautiful things, Daphne Greengrass." His voice was like smooth velvet, caressing her body and leaving raised goosebumps in its wake. "They do not consider the thorns when they pluck a rose. They do not care for their lives when they hear a Siren," Hadrian paused, tucking a loose piece of hair behind her ear, "They do not see the danger–the darkness–when they look at you."
His fingers splayed across her throat and gently pulled her closer. "It's a pity these fools are unable to see past this pretty face," He almost purred. "They have no idea of the true beauty that lies underneath the surface."
He pressed his lips against her hair and murmured, "The intelligence."
He trailed his lips down to her jawline, "The power."
He kissed the soft skin of her throat, "The passion."
He let his fingertips trace the hidden scar from her collarbone, just barely dipping below the neckline of her dress, "The unyielding loyalty."
Daphne felt a small tear trickle down her cheek, and she was horrified to see she had been crying.
Hadrian seemed to notice as well, and he shook his head at her with a low laugh, "You were always the sweetest temptation, Daphne. If I were a better man, I would have suffered in silence. I would have done the selfless thing and tried harder to stay away from you."
His thumb softly wiped away a tear from her cheek and he sighed, "Unfortunately, the world hasn't always been so kind to me, my love. It has turned me into a selfish being, grasping for any shred of light in this cruel existence. But then, I saw you," He stared at her almost reverently, "The most beautiful rose that had managed to not just survive, but flourish in the darkness." He swallowed hard, "One day I hope you can forgive me for wanting you. I hope you can forgive me for crushing those silky soft petals in my selfish hand and snapping that delicate stem in my greedy fingers."
He pressed the ring into her shaking hands and whispered, "I can apologize forever for my selfishness, but I'm afraid it will not deter me from taking what I want. Even if those thorns bleed my palm dry, I will never let go. I've never been very good at resisting temptation, you see," He smiled wryly, "I can promise you the world if you'll let me, but I don't think I can resist loving you any longer." He cleared his throat, and his voice was heavy when he finally asked, "Will you marry me, Daphne Greengrass?"
Daphne closed her eyes and after a long moment, she nodded, not trusting her voice to speak. His lips stretched into a wide grin and he slipped the beautiful ring onto her finger. A laugh bubbled out of her throat when Hadrian suddenly wrapped his arms around her thin waist and twirled her around in the air before crushing his lips to hers.
"How did you–" She gasped as he kissed her harder, "Wait a second–" She managed to pull away from him, but he was undeterred, dropping down to nuzzle her neck as she tried to get the words out, "Hadrian, how on earth did you get my father to agree to this?"
He murmured something against her cheek, and she narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously, "Did you cast the imperius curse on him?"
He pretended look offended and finally straightened his shoulders back, shaking his head.
She pursed her lips, "Oh." Her eyes were mischievous as she admitted, "That was my plan."
"Minx," He smirked at her. "I earned his permission the old-fashioned way, I'm afraid."
She waited for him to explain, but he didn't. She let out an annoyed huff and finally pressed him further, "Well, how else did you convince him, then?" She paused and hesitantly asked, "You did ask for his permission, right?"
He rolled his eyes, "Yes, of course I did. I may be the Dark Lord, but I do have manners, Daphne." He cocked his head to the side, "Would you believe he simply agreed to give me his permission out of the kindness of his own heart?
Daphne scoffed.
"It was worth a shot," Hadrian grinned. "Don't worry, sweetheart. I simply made him a promise and it seemed to satisfy him enough to give me his blessing."
"What did you promise him?" She asked him, her brows furrowing in confusion.
Hadrian glanced at his watch with a frown, "It's not that important." He pressed a finger to her lips before she could argue, "As much as I would love to continue this little interrogation, your family is probably waiting for us downstairs. We should join them now if we want to make it to the ball on time."
"I'm not going to forget about this," Daphne warned him, though she took the arm he offered her. "I'll figure it out eventually, Hadrian."
"I know you will," He gave her an indulgent smile as he led them out of her room and towards the marble staircase. "But it won't be tonight."
"What is that?" Hermione Granger squinted suspiciously at the new, innocent looking addition of jewelry to her best friend's dainty hand. She reached over the table they were standing at and pulled the hand closer, inspecting the tasteful ring with wide eyes. She covered her mouth and gasped, "Is that–"
She didn't get a chance to complete her shocked question, since she was shoved aside by the blond young man standing next to her. His aristocratic features underwent a similar reaction, and he snapped his gaze back up to his friend with a frown, "I thought I told him to get a bigger diamond."
"Malfoy, honestly," Hermione shook her head at him in disbelief. "Don't be rude. That is already quite the rock. Anything bigger would've looked ridiculous on her finger, not to mention it would've been utterly gauche. I think the ring is perfect."
"It's an engagement ring," He said dryly, "The bigger the better, I'd say."
"I pity the woman that ends up with your choice of ring," She rolled her eyes. "I wonder if she would even be able to move under the weight of that tasteless quaffle-sized gem on her hand."
"Don't sound so jealous, love," He crooned, pretending to flutter his lashes at her. "I'm sure whatever miniscule pebble your future lover presents to you will be adequate enough," He leaned down and whispered loudly, "You might want to invest in some magnifying glasses, just in case."
"Hello?" Daphne Greengrass stared at her friends incredulously, "I'm the one who just got engaged. Can we save your petty squabbling for another night?"
"Oh, sorry, Daph," Hermione had the grace to look properly chastised, "I just can't believe it, I'm so happy for you two! When did this happen?"
Daphne blushed, "Right before we arrived here tonight. It was very…" She paused as she tried to come up with the proper word before finally deciding on, "intimate."
"Sweet Merlin," Blaise suddenly called out, sidling up to her side with a lecherous grin, "Don't tell me our supreme leader popped the question in the midst of a heated moment of passion?"
Daphne discreetly stepped on his foot with her stiletto heel, taking a sip out of her champagne flute to hide her smirk when he cried out in pain. "Don't be so crass," She chided. "Not everything is about sex, Blaise."
"Everything in this world is about sex, or not about sex," He declared sagely, though his eyes still looked suspiciously watery.
"Oh my god," Daphne muttered under her breath, "It's like you want another beating."
Hermione pursed her lips, looking ready to argue with his statement before a frown creased at her brows. "He's technically not wrong," She realized, sighing in defeat.
"I rarely ever am," Blaise puffed his chest out, looking rather smug.
"Now that's just false," Draco drawled.
"Don't be bitter," The Italian retorted, turning back to face Daphne. He picked up her hand and let out a delighted gasp, "Shite, Riddle is making the rest of us look cheap. You're lucky I only chase skirts, otherwise you'd have to fight me tooth and nail for this ring, Miss. Greengrass–or I suppose now it's Mrs. Riddle?"
"Not quite yet," Daphne remarked in amusement, "And thanks–I think?"
"So," He raised an eyebrow and inquired loudly, "When's the wedding?"
"Sshh," Daphne silenced him, glancing around with wide eyes to see if anyone had heard them. "We're not publicizing it officially until after tonight. Lady Malfoy has worked so hard to plan the perfect evening, and we both decided it would feel wrong to overshadow her hard work with our own announcement."
"I might be biased, but I certainly think her hard work has paid off," Blaise let his eyes skim over the opulent ballroom, "I daresay this year's turnout was even better than last year's. Say what you want about the Malfoys, but they sure know how to throw a party."
"Look at them," Draco stared at the crowd of guests with a sneer, "They've all been acting so high and mighty in the papers and spreading all sorts of lies about my family to the press, but they still couldn't resist an invitation to our annual Christmas gala."
Daphne bit her lip, "Draco, I'm sure they're just trying to protect their own stained reputations. You know how these old families are, they pretend to be friendly with each other, but it's all to cover up their petty jealousy."
Draco's eyes darkened, "There's not a single family in this room that didn't take some pleasure in my family's fall from grace."
"They'll eat their words after tonight," Blaise assured him. "I mean–just look. The ball is a smashing success."
"Lady Malfoy did an excellent job," Daphne agreed, "She's put the entire pureblood community to shame just with this one event."
"She couldn't have done it without you," Draco smiled gratefully at Daphne. He hesitated before turning to the curly-haired witch beside him and adding, "Both of you."
"Please," Hermione snorted, "I barely did anything, it was all your mother and Daphne. I just don't think I have it in me to understand all the rules on etiquette for these pureblood parties."
"That's not true," Daphne shook her head at her friend, "You picked out the canapés."
"That was you?" Blaise glanced at her with a horrified expression. "I snuck one bite of those and nearly choked. I had to spit it out behind the potted plant in the cigar lounge. Why would you ever think blueberries and smoked salmon is a good combination?"
Hermione shrugged helplessly, "I–"
"Fuck," A haggard voice choked out and Hermione whirled around to face the tall frame of Neville Longbottom. She frowned at the light sheen of sweat on his face and the slight limp to his long strides as he walked over to their table.
His friends stared at him in trepidation as he swiped the glass of firewhiskey from Blaise's hand and tipped the remaining liquid down his throat. The firewhiskey burned a path all the way down to his chest, but he choked it down with a shudder before reaching over to pick up the glass of champagne sitting in front of Daphne.
He drained the flute in one big gulp and eyed the crystal tumbler of amber liquid in Draco's hand as well, but the blond simply raised his eyebrow and warned, "Don't even think about it."
"Neville," Hermione began softly, "How are–are you–are you alright?"
"Yeah mate," Blaise frowned, "You look like you've seen a dementor."
Neville snapped his bloodshot eyes up to shoot him a frosty glare.
"Sorry, bad joke," Blaise rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.
"Come on," Daphne stepped forward, reaching for his arm, "Let's get you fixed up."
Neville managed to offer her a grateful smile as he leaned into her side, apologizing profusely when his entire weight crushed into her and she almost stumbled in her thin heels. He tried to straighten himself up, but it was a herculean effort to just keep his knees from folding over.
"The wards are down," Neville grunted as Daphne tried to pull him away. He stretched his neck to the side until he heard a satisfying crack and plucked a glass of firewhiskey from a nearby waiter that passed by. He took another long gulp before gesturing to his friends, "You're up next."
Azkaban Prison [December 25th : 11PM]
In all honesty, Hadrian hadn't expected his plan to work. He had warned his friends as such, before they had even met two nights ago to relentlessly go over their strategy once more. It was a rather simple idea, after all, and one that relied on the basic incompetence of the guards that manned the wards around the formidable prison.
He and Daphne had poured over every possible scenario for the past month, assessing the magical blueprints and scouting out possible weak spots for hours upon hours every night. It was especially difficult to come up with a suitable plan, especially since the defense mechanisms surrounding Azkaban had been increased significantly following his father's attack on the prison years ago.
For a while, it seemed as though the impenetrable prison was indeed as impenetrable as the entire wizarding world had been led to believe.
Blasting the entire prison apart was out of the question, as he wanted to ensure this little escapade would be as silent and discreet as possible as to not arouse any unwanted suspicion.
He considered imperiusing a few of the guards to allow them access, but he knew there would be too many to successfully control, and they would easily be outnumbered.
He ran through a variety of different ideas, but he easily discarded each one as too dangerous, too unreliable, too ineffective. Even Daphne had reluctantly agreed, declaring there was no possible way they could break into the prison–not without getting splinched, at least.
"How much do you reckon it hurts to get splinched?" He had joked one night, flipping through the blueprints again to see if they had missed anything.
"Probably hurts a lot," Daphne snorted. "Otherwise, the wards wouldn't be as effective."
"But," He raised an eyebrow, "How much does it hurt?"
"You know, I've never had the chance to figure out it feels to have my legs ripped off," She rolled her eyes, "So I can't be too sure."
"Is it something that can't be healed?" Hadrian wondered out loud. "Would it cause permanent damage?"
"I-" Daphne frowned and admitted, "I'm not actually sure. There's an entire ward in St. Mungos dedicated to splinching accidents. I think it hurts–terribly so–but I don't think it's irreversible."
"So," His brows furrowed, deep in thought, "How do you heal someone who's been splinched?"
"I assume you start by reattaching their limbs," She mused. "I haven't exactly read up on the whole procedure, but you'll need dittany to reduce the scarring and pain potions and–"
"Daphne," He turned his dark gaze to stare up at her meaningfully. "The wards around Azkaban can't technically stop anyone from apparating or using a portkey onto the premises. Only blood wards are that powerful, and the Ministry ruled those as illegal for government use in 1776."
"I see someone has been paying attention in Binns's class," She muttered, tucking a lock of hair behind her ears. "You're correct that they can't technically stop anyone. But any breach in the wards will alert the guards. And you'll be splinched. Is that something you really want to experience?"
"What if–" Hadrian blinked. "What if someone took a pain potion, and then tried to breach the wards?"
Daphne shook her head, "Pain potions can only dull your senses. Unless you took enough to render you completely unconscious, you would still be able to feel the pain of your limb–or multiple limbs–being torn off."
"But you can fix that?" He raised an eyebrow.
"I'm not a licensed Healer, Hadrian," She huffed, "Even if I learn how–you can't seriously be willing to get splinched. The wards around Azkaban are powerful, even if they aren't blood magic. You could lose both your limbs and bleed out!"
"Then teach me how to fix it," He demanded to know.
"I can't just–" Daphne pressed her fingers to her temples and let out an exaggerated sigh, "Even if I did teach you, how are you going to perform any of the spells if both your arms are gone? And what about the guards that'll rush to come find you when you try to breach the wards? The wards won't stop you, but they will alert the entire prison."
In the end, after much negotiating with Daphne, his plan had been rather simple. It was painful–terribly so–but it might just work.
He knew the human guards that monitored the wards around Azkaban were trained to investigate whenever there was a breach. They followed protocol for every disturbance, even if it was just a stray animal that had climbed down over the rocks to cross the boundary.
Or at least they were supposed to.
Hadrian was sure the first time the wards were disturbed that night, they had followed proper protocol and sent down two hit-wizards to inspect the breach.
The second time the wards flickered, the hit-wizards made the same trek down to the edge of the boundary, trying to inspect what had caused yet another alarm to go off.
The third time, they still followed protocol, albeit much more reluctantly.
By the fifth time, however, the patrolling guards glanced at the empty horizon with matching scowls. Upon seeing no evidence of what had triggered the wards, they both agreed that there must have been something wrong with the ward itself.
The sixth time the wards were breached, there was no one that came out of the magical fortress to discover the cause. They had already called a curse breaker for the night and deemed it unnecessary to waste their time investigating without an expert.
By the eighth time the wards were breached, not a single wizard batted an eye. It was best to keep such ward malfunctions silent, anyways, as to not send the Ministry into a spiraling panic, they reasoned.
And so, they remained blissfully unaware of the small gap in the so-called impenetrable wards, just barely wide enough to allow a full-grown wizard to squeeze through.
Though it had not been a pretty solution, it had been a rather effective one.
When it came down to deciding who would have to suffer through the initial pain of the wards, Hadrian had been determined to do it himself, only to be shot down immediately by his friends. In the end, it had been Bellatrix who had volunteered to apparate onto the island, reasoning it would've been much more reliable than a portkey.
Hadrian had insisted that Bellatrix take one of them with her, just in case the wards were more damaging than any of them had expected. Surprisingly, it was Neville that had agreed to go along with the crazy witch, and Hadrian couldn't help but wonder if his friend had any ulterior motives.
He unfortunately didn't have much of a choice in the matter, seeing as they were running out of time and nobody else was keen on getting themselves purposely splinched. Hadrian had been reluctant to let Bella and Neville splinch themselves not once, not twice, but a whipping total of eight times–but Bella had insisted she would get the job done. He had seen the haunting glint in her eyes, and he was easily reminded of the torture she had gone through during her first couple of stints in Azkaban. She had assured him this would be nothing in comparison.
Bellatrix had managed to side-apparate Neville along with her, and together they had chipped away at the wards until they heard the patrolling wizards approach. As soon as the guards had been dispatched, they both had returned back to Riddle Manor in a half-broken state.
Hadrian had almost called off the entire mission during their third attempt. Bellatrix had dropped down into his foyer with both her arms and one of her legs missing. Neville hadn't been in a much better state, though he didn't appear to be missing any limbs at least.
Hadrian had shoved a handful of pain potions down their throats before forcefully shaking them awake once more after around half an hour. Despite the close call, both of them had insisted on continuing on with the mission, reasoning that the wards would only get weaker with each successful attempt.
Each time they had come back to Riddle manor with a missing limb or two, Hadrian would try his best to dull their pain with a cocktail of different potions and gingerly try his best to reattach their body parts. Daphne had floo-ed over to help put them back together a few times, but she had to remain at the Malfoy Ball for the majority of the evening so they could stitch together a decent alibi just in case everything went to shite.
After what seemed like an eternity of blood, spilled potions, and tortured screams, Neville and Bellatrix were finally able to apparate into Riddle Manor in one complete piece. They were a little unsteady on their feet, but they looked otherwise unharmed.
Bellatrix had apparated back home to Destiny, deciding to retire for the night. Neville had wished him good luck before he returned to the Malfoy party, ready to inform the rest of their friends to begin the next phase of their plan.
That was how Hadrian Riddle stood nearly four hours later, staring over the rocky shoreline of the island that housed the formidable prison. He stared at the distinct tear in the magical barrier surrounding the fortress, allowing a smile to stretch across his lips in slow triumph as he felt the freezing, salt-filled air whip against his skin.
The unmistakable whirling sound of a portkey did nothing to startle him, nor did the painful groans of his friends as they were dropped unceremoniously onto the snow-covered ground, piled up on top of each other.
"Get off me," Blaise wheezed. He struggled to raise his face from where it was currently pushed into the dirt by the curly-haired witch crushed against his back. "Merlin, Granger, lay off the crème puffs, will you?"
"Sod off," Hermione Granger hissed. "I can't breathe either–Malfoy, can you move?" She smacked the blond that had landed on top of her, trapping her entire body underneath his.
"Give me a second–" Draco sucked in a sharp breath, unwittingly digging his fingers into her hips as he tried to peel himself away from the witch. He managed to right himself up and held out a hand for her, helping her stand up as well.
Hadrian watched the entire interaction in amusement, waiting for them all to get settled before turning to address them carefully. "This goes without saying, but we have to be careful," He stared at them with hardened eyes, "There will be no unnecessary carnage tonight. There will be no casting of unforgivables at all costs, because the prison can detect those. We sneak in, grab the people we came here for, and sneak out. The last thing we need is for any Aurors to show up on the premises." He slanted his gaze over their determined faces, "Any questions?"
Blaise raised an eyebrow, "If there's a problem–what do we do?"
Hadrian gritted his teeth together and clasped a hand behind his back, "You run. You run and you don't look back. Understand?"
His friends nodded stiffly.
There was, inevitably, a problem.
Several of them, actually, Draco Malfoy quickly realized.
They had all split up earlier, disguising themselves with the Warden robes they had procured especially for the mission. Hadrian had gone off in search of his father, insisting that he wouldn't be able to think clearly if he was rescuing his own father. Blaise and Granger had headed down the hall to the opposite wing of the prison, stunning a few of the guards and taking the keys that hung from their waistband. He watched them unlock an entire row of cells, gesturing for the prisoners to keep quiet as they made their way down the hall. Though they had no intention of taking any of those nameless fools, they would serve as an adequate distraction for the guards while they snuck their careful selection of prized Death Eaters off the island.
Draco had already broken a few of the old Death Eaters out of their cell himself, instructing them to slip through the wards at the north side of the island and wait for Blaise and Granger to come down with a portkey. He had just freed the last prisoner from his cell, Rabastan Lestrange, when he heard a low voice from the cell right beside them.
"Draco Malfoy," A disheveled man gripped the bars of his cells and stared at him with dark eyes, "It's been so long since I've seen you in the flesh."
Rabastan clapped a bony hand over Draco's broad shoulders and said, "That's Dolohov. He was one of our brightest soldiers." He grinned, revealing a row of half-rotted teeth, "Don't worry mate, the younger Malfoy's come to save us all."
Draco stiffened, "I-I'm not actually here to–"
Rabastan snarled, "Draco, you can't just leave him here. He's been through hell in this bloody prison, more than any of us. He's been locked up for almost two years now, you have to get him out of here."
"I can't save him, Rabastan, we aren't here for him," Draco tried to explain but he was easily cut off as Rabastan stepped closer to him with menacing eyes.
The younger Lestrange brother poked him in the chest, pushing him back with a surprise amount of force for someone who had been starved and beaten in Azkaban. "You listen here, Malfoy," He hissed at him. "If you've come down to save me, you'll be saving Dolohov as well. Show some bloody loyalty, you fucking knob."
Draco sighed and glanced over at the pitiful looking man. He knew it was a bad idea, but he unlocked the cell anyways, swinging open the door and allowing the man to step outside with a frown.
"Thank you, Malfoy," Dolohov rasped, nodding over at him gratefully. "I will forever be in your debt."
"Yeah, yeah, whatever," He rolled his eyes, "Let's get down to the cliffside, we have to get out of here before these idiots discover exactly how many prisoners are missing."
And against all odds, he had managed to get them both down to the large rocks at the edge of the wards, without too much of a hassle. He instructed them both to wait by the snow-covered dirt, warning them to sit quietly and not draw too much attention to themselves.
He was about to head back into the fortress to collect one last prisoner when Granger and Blaise came running down the hill, finally with the last group of Death Eaters they had selected to rescue.
"We did it," Granger gasped, passing him one of the portkeys she had stuffed into her pockets earlier. "We actually did it."
"Where's Hadrian?" Draco questioned, skimming his gaze over the group gathered in front of them.
"He left a few minutes ago, with the first few prisoners," Blaise reassured him, "I saw your father was with him, so don't worry."
Draco almost sighed in relief. He was about to say something, when suddenly Granger clamped her hand around his arm and her eyes narrowed, "Malfoy, we have an extra prisoner. Someone must've snuck out while we were–"
"Dolohov didn't sneak out," Draco rolled his eyes as the older wizard in question glanced over at them suspiciously at the sound of his name. "I let him out."
"What the fuck, mate?" Blaise frowned, and his voice was low as he spoke, "Hadrian couldn't have been any clearer. We don't let anyone escape this shithole unless they were on the list," He gestured his hand over at the now scowling Death Eater, "Dolohov wasn't on the fucking list!"
"I couldn't just leave him!" Draco retorted, "He saw me when I broke out Rabastan. How was I supposed to leave him after that?"
"He can't come with us," Granger shook her head adamantly, "He's not been approved–"
"Shut up, you mudblood bitch," Dolohov suddenly appeared in front of them glaring down at them. "I'm not going back into that wretched cell, you–"
"Dolohov," Blaise snapped his wand up to point at the elder Death Eater in disgust. "Watch your words carefully, old man."
"You fucking–"
"I swear to Merlin," Draco closed his eyes, "Dolohov, if you want to come with us, I'd advise you to keep your bloody mouth shut."
"Oh, we're protecting filthy little mudbloods now," Dolohov sneered. "She's a waste of space, useless cargo–and you lot are protecting her? What the bloody hell has gotten into you?"
"Dolohov, I'm warning you, you piece of shite," Blaise growled. "Shut the fuck up."
Dolohov watched them for a long moment, assessing the protective stance they took both in front of the girl. He growled in disgust and before either of them could make a single move, he lunged forward and grabbed the wand out of Blaise's hand.
Blaise hadn't expected the man to resort to something as common as muggle violence, and he had to blink in shock as the Death Eater stole the wand right out of his grip. His surprise quickly wore off, however, as the brutish man immediately shouted, "Crucio."
The years of imprisonment clearly hadn't affected his deadly reflexes, nor his aim. His spell shot at the witch standing between the two younger wizards, and she crumpled to the ground with a loud scream.
"Fuck, I told you this would happen, Draco!" Blaise shouted, pushing Hermione away from the onslaught of the spell. "We had a bloody list! What is the point of the list, if you ignore the fucking list!"
The enraged Death Eater was ruthless, however, and his eyes narrowed a fraction of an inch before he shot another, more powerful Crucio at the witch spasming on the floor.
Draco felt something inside of him snap as her mouth dropped open into another silent scream and a drop of blood trickled down the corner of her mouth. His eyes hardened and he raised his wand at Dolohov. His voice was clipped, and his arm was unwavering as he whispered, "Avada Kedavra."
Hermione gasped once the onslaught of pain abruptly stopped, and her red-rimmed eyes blinked slowly up at the sky as her chest shuddered with each shaky breath she took. Draco wordlessly pulled her up from the ground and crushed her into his chest, breathing in the warm honey scent to her curls as she sobbed against him.
"You just–" She choked out, "Draco –you've killed him–he's dead and–"
She didn't get to finish her panicked rambling as suddenly a loud siren roared out through the entire island, and Blaise shouted out a string of expletives. "Shite, we have to get the fuck out of here," He grunted. He shoved a portkey into Hermione's hand and ushered her out of the wards, "Get out of here, Granger."
"But I–"
"Get out," Blaise hissed at her, "We're right behind you, but you need to leave now, Hermione."
She stared over at the serious expression on both their faces and nodded sharply, gathering a few of the other prisoners that had wisely kept silent after Dolohov's sudden death. She shot them one last panicked look before the portkey sucked them out of the island, hurling them through the sky.
"Come on," Blaise hurried to pull his friend towards the edge of the wards, "We have to leave, Draco. The Aurors will be here any minute."
There was a sudden loud crack through the air and they both watched in horror as a silverly mist of light dropped a figure into the front entrance of the prison.
"Shite," Blaise muttered. "They've started to allow Aurors through the wards. It won't be long before they figure out the wards are already compromised, and they don't need to bother with keying each Auror into the wards."
"I-" Draco paused, and made a split-second decision. He pushed his friend towards the edge of the wards, "You should go, Blaise. I left someone behind, and I promised I wouldn't leave without–"
"Fuck that!" Blaise barked, "You can't risk it for some stupid Death Eater, they can't be more important than your life," He yanked on his friend's shoulder and tried to drag him towards the gap in the wards, "Hadrian will understand, let's fucking go, Draco! It's not worth it!"
"No, I have to–" Draco grunted, shaking Blaise's tight grip aside. Before the other man could even blink, Draco began to run off in the opposite direction. "Get out of here, Blaise. I'll be fine, trust me." He shouted to his friend. "You have to run–you have to run and don't look back."
Potter Manor [December 26th : 1AM]
When Alexander Potter crept down the stairs in the middle of the night after he had heard the shouting in his home, he hadn't quite known what to expect. He had become accustomed to the silence of the manor over the summer, and he wasn't entirely surprised to find the same cold marble floors and darkened halls when he returned for the winter holidays. His father had briefly spent a few hours with him earlier that day, but then he had inevitably disappeared after the elves had prepared a rather excessive Yule feast for just the two of them.
Alexander certainly hadn't expected to wake up at one in the morning to find his entire home packed with a handful of Aurors and high-ranking Ministry officials.
He was able to recognize a few members from the Order and he spotted a Weasley brother–Bill, perhaps– in the library on his way down to the main lounge area, but he wasn't quite sure why anyone was in their home to begin with.
He kept himself hidden in the shadows of the staircase that wrapped around the bustling lounge, leaning down to better hear the loud voices that seemed to be arguing over something. He ducked his head around the corner, watching as his old professor, Alastair Moody was pacing around the room, shouting instructions to anyone that was hurrying by.
"It's a bloody shitshow," He was roaring, spittle flying out of his mouth in a rage as he glared down at the large mahogany table most of the others were gathered at. "How did it happen? Did you question the guards?"
"They're fucking idiots," A pink-haired witch shook her head. "We had to threaten them before they finally admitted that the wards had been down all night. They had tried to cover it up, just so the Ministry wouldn't send in reinforcements," She curled her lip into a sneer. "Apparently they thought they could handle it themselves."
Moody swore loudly.
Remus Lupin cleared his throat, "Moody–how did they get in? I assume it was His work, but I didn't see a single Death Eater in the prison when I was there. All I saw was a crowd of loose prisoners."
"They had to have someone on the inside," Moody growled. "The wards were damaged, but the guards were too incompetent to investigate the cause properly," He turned over to a mousy looking man beside him and hissed, "I want them fired, all of them. Bloody useless fools." He shook his head in disgust, "We don't know for sure how they got in, or even how they got out. The only thing we know is one of those blasted death eaters portkeyed away right before the majority of our forces arrived, so we weren't able to get a good ID on him."
"What about the damages," James Potter frowned, "If they came in through the faulty wards, why was half the prison blown apart?"
"We had to take care of the prisoners on the loose, Sir," A stiff-looking man spoke up, dressed in the official Azkaban warden robes, "There was so much chaos from the Aurors that arrived, it collapsed an entire wing. Our team has been sweeping through the damages and identifying the bodies as we speak."
Remus Lupin stilled and his voice was tight as he asked, "Which wing, Mr. Peters?"
"Pardon?"
"Which wing," Lupin's eyes widened in panic, "Which wing was destroyed?"
"Seriously, Moony, why does it matter which wing, they're all criminals–" James Potter began to say, but he was immediately cut off as Remus slammed his fist into the table and repeated his question.
The official from Azkaban looked terrified as he finally whispered, "It–It was the east wing. We call it 'Murderers Row', because we house–well, the murderers and lowest, filthiest criminals there. Most of them were Death Eaters or petty criminals with attempted murder charges or–"
Alexander felt his eyes widen, and before he realized what he was doing, he jumped out of the shadows he was hiding behind. His presence seemed to startle a few people and his father seemed enraged before he shouted at someone to remove him and escort him back to his own quarters.
Alexander had resisted –as best as he could–when the two surly Aurors grabbed his arms and magically restrained him. He kicked and screamed bloody murder as they dragged him back up the staircase and shoved open the door to his room. They ignored his absolutely scathing glare and shrugged, slamming the door shut behind them as they locked him up in his own room.
"Sorry kid," One of them apologized through the door, "We're just following orders."
Alexander kicked the door, shouting a string of curse words as he tried every unlocking spell he knew to yank the door back open. He wasn't sure how long he had been screaming at the door, when suddenly the lock turned, and the door pushed open.
Alexander paused, blinking in surprise as the red-haired man stepped into the room. "Ron?" He frowned, surprised by his sudden presence. "How did they let you in? What are you doing in here?"
"The Aurors were supposed to keep you in here under your father's own orders, but they had nothing preventing other people from coming inside," Ron grinned, clearly proud to have outsmarted his captors.
"Ron, do you know what's happened?" Alexander ran a hand through his hair, pushing back the fringe that had fallen into his eyes. "I woke up and everyone was arguing in my house and then–"
"I'm not sure if I should–" Ron paused and pursed his lips into a thin line, "Well, your father has instructed to keep you away from all of this and–"
"I deserve to know what's going on, Ron!" Alexander demanded to know.
His friend sighed, "Your father just wants to protect you, mate."
"You're my friend, Ron," Alexander reminded him with a scowl. "Not my father's. You're my best mate, not his. Tell me what the fuck happened. Why is half the Auror force in my home? Why is the Order here?"
"Alexander," Ron's eyes were heavy and serious for once as he revealed, "There's been a breakout at Azkaban."
He felt his shoulders stiffen and he stared at the red-haired man in shock. "What do you mean?" He breathed, "Isn't it impenetrable? That's why we–how did they–"
"Death Eaters," Ron spat angrily, "My father told me they likely found a way through the wards –most likely paid someone off on the inside–and the entire thing went to shite. A few prisoners had found a way out of their cells and they broke out, mobbing the guards and letting the rest of the criminals out of their cells in the east wing. The chaos brought the entire walls of the wing down, and the Aurors are still digging through the wreckage trying to find any survivors. So far, I don't think they've found any."
"The east wing?" Alexander felt a sharp feeling of dread curl around his chest, squeezing his heart tightly as the blood rushed in his ears, "Who–Who did they keep in there?"
Ron shrugged, "Death Eaters, attempted murderers, your basic lowest of the low–not really a loss, but–"
His words cut off into a surprised sputter as Alexander stepped forward and slammed him into the wall, gripping his collar in a tight fist as he leveled his wand at his friend's face. "Ron," Alexander's voice was deadly quiet as he asked, "My mother. What about my mother. She's still in there–she's–oh, god–"
"I–I don't know," Ron gasped, choking down a sharp breath as Alexander suddenly let him go and he sagged against the wall. His face was unnervingly pale as he mumbled, "She-She hasn't been found yet. There was so much rubble and the Aurors had to explode the entire side of the building to trap the escaped prisoners inside–"
"Ron," Alexander stared at him with a dark look in his eyes, "Is she alive?"
His friend rubbed the side of his neck nervously, "We aren't really sure how–"
"Ron! Answer the fucking question."
Ron closed his eyes, and his voice was raw when he whispered, "There weren't any survivors in that wing, mate. My father said–" He paused abruptly, unsure of whether to continue.
Alexander was silent, though he kept his eyes on his friend, urging him to keep talking.
Ron swallowed hard, "They–They said she was on the brink of death even before the entire breakout, Alexander. She'd been refusing her meals for weeks now and–" He dropped his gaze to the floor, "They aren't looking for her anymore. They're looking for her body."
Alexander breathed in sharply, feeling his chest rise and fall rapidly as his friend's words hit him with full force. His teeth gnashed together, and his eyes fluttered shut as he fell to the ground on his knees.
Ron could've sworn nothing was more terrifying in that moment as Alexander Potter let out a wild scream, gripping his wand in his hand until the wood almost snapped under the pressure. The windows in the room shattered from the sheer force of his vindictive magic in the air, and Alexander Potter didn't even flinch as the shards of glass rained down on his frozen form.
He'd make them pay for this, Alexander Potter vowed to himself as he sat in the middle of the wreckage, uncaring as his fingers dug into the broken pieces of glass and his blood dripped down onto the floor. He'd make them pay for everything they had taken from him.