Chapter Twenty
Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, Hogwarts, Scotland, 8 November, 1991
"P-please o-open your b-b-books to p-page one-hundred and twenty," Quirrel stuttered.
The first year in the back row rolled his eyes. This stammering was getting old. He could just write it on the board. Hell, he could magically turn to that page for them.
Sighing, he flipped to the page and waited for the rest of the class to do the same. Across from him, an Indian girl chatted with her friend, glaring at him every few seconds.
He sighed again. Why did no one understand that it wasn't his fault?
Beside him, his brother nudged him, gray eyes shimmering sympathetically. He understood, and so did their friends, though they didn't know everything.
But no one else seemed to understand, though, and the thought depressed him.
He was more prone to this reaction than his peers were. His extreme outbursts and mood swings were due to a disease he had, something really rare. It made him unbelievably powerful, but he was easily depressed or upset. He also got fits, of a sort, where he'd be lost to all around him and his power ran rampant through his mind.
At least, that's how his parents had explained it to him, and they'd never lied before. They'd said that whenever he was really upset or sad and didn't know why, he could talk to them or Severus.
But he hadn't been able to see his uncle alone for several weeks.
Adrian ran his hands through his unruly hair, making it even messier than it had already been.
Draco patted his shoulder reassuringly, easily able to read his brother's actions and sense the growing thrum of power that was quickly enveloping his little brother. Adrian started shaking; eyes squeezed shut as he closed himself up in the storm that was raging through him.
Draco stood up suddenly. "Professor, I think my brother is sick. Can I take him to the Hospital wing?"
Quirrel stopped mid-stutter and looked nervously at Adrian, who was pale as death and clenching and unclenching his fists repeatedly, eyes locked on the blank sheet of parchment on his desk.
"I t-think you may b-be r-r-right, M-Mr. M-Malfoy," the young professor stammered nervously.
Draco dragged Adrian out of the room and down the halls, running and stumbling toward the dungeons.
Once he reached Snape's office, he pounded his fist against the door, glancing nervously at his brother, who was fading into his fit quickly.
Snape opened the door with a sneer, but his eyes were questioning. Draco jerked his head in Adrian's direction in lieu of an answer. Snape nodded and ushered the brothers inside.
"Bad one," Severus commented, leading Adrian to a chair by the fireplace. As soon as this was done, he kneeled in front of his "nephew" and tilted his head up so the boy was looking right into his eyes. "Adrian, you are in Hogwarts."
He stared, lost to the world.
"Adrian, this is Uncle Severus. Can you hear me?"
Nothing.
"Ade, you are safe. No one will hurt you here."
His fingers twitched slightly.
Severus gripped the boy's small hands, hoping physical contact would help pull his nephew out of his fit.
Adrian's head twitched slightly, pupils dilating until his irises were barely visible.
"Adrian, you are safe. Fight it," Severus said, speaking low and calmly.
"He's usually stopped by now," Draco fretted, looking his brother up and down.
Severus knew and shared the boy's worry. Talking and soothing were the only things that could bring Adrian back around, as there was no cure for his ailment. Severus was getting close, but he could only do so much while remaining one of the most feared professors in recent history.
Ah, he did love his job.
Adrian shuddered and collapsed against his uncle's shoulder, sobbing.
Severus' arms wrapped tightly around him, rubbing his back soothingly, relieved that he'd come back to his senses.
Draco left the room quietly, to give his brother a moment of privacy. He never stayed in the room when Adrian "woke up". He felt that if he were in Adrian's situation, he would want as few witnesses as possible.
"It was bad, wasn't it?" Severus asked, his black eyes softening as he tightened his grip on the shaking child in his arms.
Adrian nodded.
"Are you going to tell me about it?"
"No, Uncle. Thank you, but I should go. I don't want to miss the entire day."
"Unfortunately, you are missing the entire day, Malfoy, if I have to Stun you and drag you to the Hospital myself," Severus growled, eyes turning hard once more.
Adrian grumbled but didn't doubt his uncle's threat; he'd do anything to keep his nephews safe, even if it meant hurting them. A lesser of two evils, he often said.
The black-clad professor led his charge to Madam Pomfrey, spelling up a note for Draco.
Adrian lay in his bed for the next few hours, silently furious with himself. Why did this have to be his disease, his torment?
Why did he have to be crazy?
Okay, this is important later on. I know that there was nothing like this in canon, but I wanted some reasoning behind his huge (and slightly illogical) magical outbursts.
Poor Ade, Voldy and a rare disease?
You all must think I hate him.
I promise that I don't, though!
-TheNefariousMe
