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He was there, yet he was not there.
He was rage.
He was a child.
....A solitary figure concealed his presence from the others. He watched almost obsessively as his father presented his little brother to the crowd with a prestigious grin, his mother stood by his father's side, radiant, emitting the same inordinate happiness. The party-goers seemed to mock him as they clapped their hands over and over, the sound was maddening.The room was large and slightly pretentious, a chandelier hung over the dining table that sat at least twenty five. The room was decorated in a birthday style, pastel colours hung in the form of bunting and transparent crystal balloons, yet somehow the place remained classy and redolent of the family's wealth. From where he sat on cold stone clinging to the wrought-iron staircase, the room felt like another world. Their laughter was nauseating and their smiles were taunting. They were cheering at the sight of the Boy-Who-Lived. At least, that was what they were so fond of calling him. Silent tears glistened on the older brother's cheeks, whose face contrasted that of his younger brother. It could have been said their paths were set out from the beginning.Perhaps their ending would have always been the same. How ironic that he had once thought sharing the same birthday would be a good thing. But as of this day, he began to see it as an unfortunate twist of fate. It seemed not a single person at the party recalled his birthday was the same day as their precious saviour's, only 4 years previous. Not even their parents.The eldest brother often wished that his parents were different from these strangers. He had been looking forward to his 11th birthday, and his excitement was practically palpable when he had woken up that morning. But that hope had soon collapsed to the ground. How naive he had been.All he had wanted was for his parents to remember him, especially his mother. He craved her warmth, like every child does, wanting desperately for her to show some small acknowledgement of his existence. His thoughts came crashing back to reality as the party-goers sang his brother the birthday song, its echo held no melody but that of a cold reminder.You are not loved.He stood up and walked along the cool hard Italian Terrazzo marble that lay on the second floor hallway. The walls seemed to creep in on him, getting closer, suffocating him. Despite this, Hadrian remained unaffected. He was still and emotionless as he walked into his room which was situated on the other side of the mansion.He conceded that having an entire wing to himself was more to do with his parents priorities than any else. Entering it, he shut the door silently. The voices outside still echoed in his eardrums, they were relentless. He climbed to his bed, unafraid of the darkness because of the moonlight shining through his window. It appeared to him, the stars were shining just a little darker tonight, no longer winking with hope but smirking with brutal revelation.He thought about wishing himself a Happy Birthday, but then decided against it. Instead, his jaw hardened and his lip pulled into a fractured sneer. It wasn't long before sleep captured him, but the young innocent boy who had awoken that day for his 11th birthday was no more and would never be the same again.
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"Forget? He never forgets.
He doesn't forget the ghost in his lungs or the skeleton in his closet. He doesn't forget when he wakes up screaming, and he never forgets when he falls to his knees, finished to the bone.
Don't ask him if he forgets because he will never forget.
He'll never forget this.
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----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
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"Fearless child, broken boy, tell me what it's like to burn."
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Hadrian woke suddenly, his mind running fast and alert. Sitting up, he considered where he was.'Somnolence gets you dead, fast. Only the paranoid survive.'The deep voice echoed in his head causing him to straighten. The conviction was not his own, but that of a learnt lesson. One of his first.Knowing he was safe Hadrian tried to relax, but his heart refused to slow its ominous beat. It was like a menacing drum tempo rising as if preparing for a finale. It was unnaturally foreboding, promising a frenzy of soundless screams in a burning world.Shoving dark curls out of his eyes, he stretched his hands in the air and yawned inadvertently. It resembled a guttural groan; deep and rough. He was sat alone in an empty compartment at the Slytherin end of the train. The seats on which he sat were made of grey leather and had the Slytherin emblem stitched flawlessly on to the headrest. The blinds that lay either side of the window were of a thick velvet and the colour of deep emerald green.Hadrian was attempting to sleep, yet his mind was his weakness and his childhood plagued his dreams. He felt a headache coming on. The top of his skull ached with a splintering kind of pain, one that you would associate with heartache. It swirled like an insatiable fire, burning the oxygen out of his body and leaving him listless and empty. The feeling came in waves, making him clench his jaw in an attempt to reduce its pain and cease its intolerable sorrow. The headaches were becoming worse. The exhaustion that accompanied them had formed a veil over his skin, that was both grey and cold.The train was returning to King's Cross station for the beginning of summer. Hadrian's fourth year at Hogwarts had been unusual. Since the start of the his fourth year, intense scrutiny had been thrown his way. The staring and gawking fell into three different categories, curiosity, suspicion or obsession. This was not to dismiss the tremors of fear and trepidation on the students faces when Hadrian passed them in the corridor or entered a classroom. But then, perhaps that was just a given.Dumbledore was the catalyst - this past year the old wizards piercing blue eyes had seem to lock on to Hadrian's form every time he walked into a room. He could feel them slicing across his shoulder panes or drilling into the back of his head. But whenever Hadrian turned around Dumbledore's attention seemed to be occupied by something else in the room.The strange thing was that Dumbledore had never given Hadrian the light of day - not even when he was sorted into Slytherin. There had been nothing, not even a slither of recognition to the Potter family name. So, this new attention he was receiving from the Headmaster was disconcerting. What had warranted such attentiveness?Of course, the rumour pool at Hogwarts was bubbling and alive. So perhaps Dumbledore had heard something that he hadn't liked. Had he found out about the countless parties Hadrian had hosted? Or maybe, that time he and most of the Slytherin's had snuck out to a party in the Forbidden Forest? Or perhaps, he'd discovered what Hadrian had been hiding? No, he shook his head. There was no way he could know.But it was obvious to Hadrian that Dumbledore had not liked what he saw. Distrust and suspicion seeped throughout the very halls of the Castle. It was a vapour that swirled into the large stone classrooms, up the twisted staircases and through the long corridors.Hadrian's eyes fixed on the window, gazing with indifference at the passing trees, stones, and grass, as they all blurred together to produce a muffled conception of the Scottish countryside. His thoughts floated off to space. Hadrian could hardly believe he still remembered his eleventh birthday, the memory should have perished a long time ago. It should have shrivelled and wilted away, like a dying flower whose petals were like grotesque confetti. Yet, he knew why it hadn't. That day he understood exactly what had happened. He had lost himself, almost entirely. There was no coming back, and so the world became as if it were made of shadows and his every breath felt hollow in his chest.At times Hadrian would often think about who he would have been if that day did not happen. Would he be free? Would he be good? Would he have been sorted into Gryffindor? Or perhaps if not that day, another day just like it would have changed everything. Maybe he was always meant to be this way. Perhaps it was some cruel game played on him by the universe.The adjectives that could be used to be describe him were endless and ultimately desolate. He reconsidered for a moment. He should give himself more credit, it was too simple, too easy to refer to himself as just bad or broken. That day had not ruined him completely, he could still feel. And yet, it was also true that Hadrian Potter knew how to make people feel whatever he wanted them to.It's called game theory.You become everyone's friend till the moment you're not. You make them love you so much that when they're up against it, their loyalty will make them act against their own best interests - a cold, rational, focus. Even if it's at everyone else's expense. Everything, everyone is... a contingency. You meet people, you bring them into your life and you keep them percolating until the moment you need to manipulate the relationship to your advantage.Cynically, he supposed he had to thank his parents for that. When you are void of your parent's love, you become silent and still. If it hadn't been for them, his young mind could not have developed such a thirst for sovereignty and strive. He could pick out the people in his life who had failed him, one by one - line them up to be judged and condemned to either destruction or absolution.Sirius Black, the man chosen to be his protector, guardian, friend and godfather. Remus Lupin, is Uncle. After a while, they forgot him. It used to make his blood boil thinking about who left him, the reason for his loss of innocence. But he had got a taste for blood, while licking his own wounds - a momentous urge for violence and wickedness.The doors to his compartment snapped unlocked, sliding open and breaking him out of his thoughts. Hadrian glanced at the door, his sharp green eyes locking onto a group of students. They were wearing Slytherin uniform - black blazers, white shirts and emerald ties. The smiles of the group were self congratulating, friendliness settled within their grins."Told ya we'd find him eventually," a voice declared smugly.It was a boy with short blonde hair, it was luminous like refined metallic silver. The slate greys orbs of his eyes shined enthusiastically - his tall frame was surprisingly strong, not gangly but elegant. He wore all black, from his charcoal school trousers to the fitted Corneliani blazer. The ensemble should of looked too formal, yet on the silver haired boy it seemed totally befitting; his stance emanated confidence, yet rejected the unwarranted hubris that commonly accompanied it."Never doubt me, boys," the voice continued after a beat."Whatever, Malfoy. Now move, you're in the way," another voice erupted, it held a melody.The voice was neither naivety or sweetness - it was tantalising ferocity, with the assurance of feminine strengths. The girl's dark hair brushed against her hips, the silky strands were like burnt umber. She shoved Malfoy, the tall blonde boy out of her way, her small frame managing it with surprising ease. Despite entering the compartment with total authority, Hadrian's hard eyes noticed her obscured vulnerability - it was raw and absolute.The beautiful girl regarded him, her fearful expression almost hidden by her mask of confidence - regardless, Hadrian still saw it. All of her fears were on show. The worst one of them all; the unswayable dread that someone would see her, really see her for what she truly was. She sat across from Hadrian fluidly despite her initial discomfort. Hadrian noted how she crossed her arms, operating subconsciously on the defensive. She noticed too and dropped her arms immediately and placing them on her lap. The beautiful girl silently stared at him with her big brown eyes."Bitch." Draco, the blonde, grumbled.Draco Malfoy's aristocratic face was marred by a devilish smirk. He seemed to have the sense to have said his insult quietly enough so the beautiful girl didn't hear him. But, Hadrian heard it. He turned his head to look out the window in order that Daphne did not to see his growing smirk."Hadrian?" A different voice entered.The handsome face of Theodore Nott strode into the compartment. The frame was average build for a boy of sixteen years. Theo's sandy blonde hair was neatly styled, it possessed different tones fusing together ash brown with shades of aurum gold. The soft light brown eyes that were so full of light, shone cheekily; his stare was gentle and full of kindness."Were you sleeping?" Theo questioned, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.Hadrian glanced away from the boy, it hurt to look at him - he radiated an innocuous kind of youth that Hadrian had lost long ago.His head throbbed with a familial ache of stone cold realism, he was going home. The word home was truly unfamiliar, it was an empty fallacy... Hadrian considered for a moment.Yes, that was right, he hadn't been back in three years. The last time he had returned to his 'family home' had been after his first year. And even then he had only been there for a couple of weeks of the summer, before he couldn't take it any longer. Hadrian had left, unnoticed and had stayed the rest of the summer at Draco Malfoy's.Hadrian sighed heavily as if to expel the darkness smothering him, all he wanted was some peace. Exhaustion rested heavily in his bones and swam in the dark plains of his mind. To Theo's unanswered question, he had attempted to sleep - he had tried so hard to give into the darkness it offered. He had only managed one hour with his eyes closed, before dreams had chilled his heart and consorted in his ruin.Blaise Zabini furtively made his way into the compartment, his ability to at times go completely unnoticed was remarkable considering his build was similar to the statue of Farnese Hercules. Blaise was heavy set, muscular - tapering lines marked the contoured realms of his body. The large boy's smooth skin, was dusty sepia toned, dark and delicious. Blaise's appearance diametrically opposed his calm and soft manner. You saw it in the way he offhandedly gestured to Hadrian's feet, wordlessly asking his permission to sit.Hadrian lifted his feet off the compartment bench and tossed them to the ground lazily, pronouncing his ire. Daphne Greengrass, bit her lip at Hadrian's look of annoyance, her warm brown eyes dancing warily. She was sat on the compartment bench, not seeming to mind how close she was to Blaise Zabini, who naturally took up most of her space."What?" Hadrian snapped.Hadrian was used to being stared at but after only an hour of restless sleep, he wasn't in the mood. Every eye in the compartment rested on him, a mixture of concern, suspicion and even fear. Draco felt like sighing, it had been like this all year. The atmosphere of the group seemed to depend on Hadrian's mood."What do you want?" Hadrian snapped, focusing on Daphne.Daphne refused to let Hadrian win, she didn't back down - she couldn't. Instead she stood her ground and searched his face for anything that would give away the reason for his mood. The past year at Hogwarts, their fourth year, had been different - well, Hadrian had been different. Over the years, Daphne had watched Hadrian Potter grow harder, stronger and darker. They had all seen it, the boyish smiles had become a rarity, the lighthearted humour was not longer lighthearted.Things had changed."We just wanted to see if you were okay," Daphne remarked quietly."I was sleeping." Hadrian's hard eyes didn't leave Daphne's."And how were we supposed to know that?" Daphne folded her arms across her chest again, feeling suddenly defensive."You know what Daphne?" Hadrian sighed, but a dark smile stretched his lips."What?" Daphne returned with attitude."Why don't you go and find Diggory? I'm sure he would prefer your personal involvement more than I." Hadrian pronounced heavily.Daphne's eyes widened and her mouth popped open. How did Hadrian know about that? Daphne tried to swallow, but her throat was tight. Of course Hadrian knew, he always knew.An intense feeling of claustrophobia crept up neck at the thought of everyone knowing her business. It was up to her to tell people about things going on in her life, no one else - not even Hadrian. Anger clambered its way up her throat. She tried her best to get rid of it, but it was hot and furious."What?" Theo frowned, turning his head left and right squinting at their faces, "Diggory? What about Diggory?"Draco Malfoy took one look at Daphne and knew she was about to lose it. A heated expression ran across her features climbing up her face and settling in her eyes. A feeling of protectiveness suddenly tightened at his chest. Slapping Theo on the back side of his head, Draco turned and narrowed his eyes at his best friend."You motherfucker," Daphne swore under her breath."What was that?" Hadrian smiled, but it wasn't a nice one.Hadrian's cold eyes flickered over to Daphne's refined form - the virescent green furiously vibrant. Daphne felt like she was being X-rayed. The rest of the group were frozen, gazing back and forth, from Hadrian to Daphne and back again."You heard what I said," DaphneDaphne and Hadrian were natural leaders, they were born in command. They both had an innate influence over people. As you can imagine, there were times when their personalities would not let them agree on certain things. Over the years there had been arguments - disagreements about this or that. But as the years had gone on they had grown up - they were as close as ever.Hadrian, despite being tired had never looked so alive. The intense green was fixed and frozen, his body was tall and tense - the dark curls of his hair fell across his face making him seem dishevelled and wild."You've been fucking awful this whole year." Daphne spat angrily."Daph - " Draco tried."N-no!" Daphne shook her head, refusing him.Hadrian raised a cautionary brow and waited for her to finish. Daphne hated the way he saw her stumble - he was watching her like she was one of those pathetic students who fawned after him. Daphne's jaw clenched, she wanted to let the bubbling anger work its way through her body - she wanted to fucking explode. She had, had enough of Hadrian's temper. She had, had enough of everyone taking his side just like they were doing now."No Draco, let her say what she wants to say.." Hadrian smiled cockily.Even though the words were biting, Hadrian's iciness seemed to have waned. A childlike stubbornness had taken over his features causing him to look softer. Daphne faltered, her brows lowering in confusion. No! He was doing this on purpose - Daphne gritted her teeth. Hadrian Potter was really fucking cunning - something passed between Daphne's dark brown and Hadrian's emerald.
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Don't be fooled by her looks.
That one will surprise you.
That one will pull the trigger, when you aren't looking.
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