Hey guys - this story is already up on AO3, but I've always had a fondness for this site, so I figured, meh why not post on both. Thanks for taking the time to read this, and just letting you know that the relationship between Harry and Tom will be a pretty slow one. So don't expect there to be a lot of stuff early on, I have to build up to all the glorious bits.
Anywho, the full summary for this story is actually this:
On the night of the attack, Lily managed to escape with her infant son, but at the cost of her husband's life. Distraught and distrusting of her friends, she fled to France with Harry, to raise him away from the corruption in Britain and the rising influence of the Dark Lord. She trains him to the best of her abilities, shaping him into a dangerous, intelligent and powerful wizard.
But when Britain re-establishes the Triwizard Tournament, and Harry is forced to return to his once-home, he finds himself questioning whether he really wants to kill the Dark Lord. Voldemort finds an unexpected challenge in the child, and as his intrigue and amusement grows, so too does the desire to possess the spark in those defiant green eyes.
Hope you guys enjoy :)
OoO
He had always found solace in the library; the comforting silence, the scent of age-old parchment, and the intoxicating awareness of the sheer knowledge at his fingertips. His mother had always encouraged his thirst to learn, pushed tomes and books and scrolls into his hands and watched as he consumed the information with sad, yet proud eyes.
His year mates never did understand his drive, how he could prefer the looming shelves of the school library to the beautiful gardens and crystal statues. They did not understand why he immersed himself so thoroughly in faded, fragmented texts that held – what some may consider – unnecessary knowledge.
A sardonic smile always pulled at the side of his mouth at their ignorance.
They did not understand that one day, a scrape of obscure information may just save his life from the shadow that lurked, always, over him. But he knew all too well the importance of his study. He had known since he was six what was expected of him.
With a soft sigh, Hadrian took a seat at a polished table and plucked his book from his satchel. Magick Moste Evile was an unattractive book, but Hadrian knew the information in it was quite valuable. His mother requested he re-read it, and practice a small list of spells she had prepared that the book covered in extensive detail. Some were Light, most, however, were firmly considered Dark. This year, his mother insisted he expand his experience with the Dark Arts. They both believed that to face his opponents, Hadrian needed intimate knowledge of their methods.
Of course, they never spoke of how Hadrian was naturally gifted with the Dark Arts, or how he rarely felt the effects of using the tempestuous branch. His mother, as a Light witch, did not necessarily like the idea of her son being predisposed to Dark magic, but she knew that to survive he had to use whatever power he had at his disposal. And she valued his life far too much to try and hinder his growth.
Hadrian allowed himself to sink into the book with a single-mindedness he rarely permitted. He had been taught to always keep his attention on his surroundings, to never let himself be truly relaxed, not even at home. But every once in a while, he lowered his guard just slightly, just enough to release some of the tension that coiled within his body at the constant paranoia he maintained. Beauxbatons was far away from most of the political strife in Britain, and none of his classmates knew who he really was.
To them, he was Hadrian Evans – a particularly handsome, talented and charming student who had few close friends. Everyone recognised him, and many respected him, but his aloof attitude prevented most from getting close to him. He was the type of person that, when he wished, could command people's absolute attention, but could just as easily slip into the background and move unseen.
But none knew who he really was. His classmates and instructors did not know the name he guarded jealously, or that he and his mother were marked people. They did not know what had happened to his father, or why they had never met his mother. They did not see how Hadrian always listened for news on Britain, or how his eyes darkened at any mention of the Dark Lord. They did not understand, no matter how much he wished they could.
Because they were children. Yes, they were exceptionally intelligent, powerful and occasionally dangerous in their ruthlessness – but they were children nonetheless. Hadrian had long since lost the naïveté his classmates still had. He was a soldier, a survivor, and he was preparing for a war.
"Hadrian!"
The call startled him, and he looked over his shoulder to see Claire approaching with a smile. With faux-casualness he shut his book and slid it back into his bag, not willing to let the girl know too much. He was considered a Light wizard by most after all, and did not need anything risking the image he had striven to maintain just yet.
"Claire," he greeted politely, allowing a gentle smile to tug the corner of his mouth. The part-veela settled down next to him, chin propped gently on the back of her hand as she gazed at him with stern blue eyes. "do you need something?"
Her lips thinned at his blunt attitude, but she did not rebuke him for it. "You weren't in the gardens for lunch, Jacob asked me to come fetch you." Her nose wrinkled slightly at the smell of the library.
Hadrian felt a flicker of amusement rise in his chest, and he grinned at the slightly older witch. "Are you Jacob's owl now, Claire? I knew you fancied him, but being reduced to a messenger is a little too desperate, don't you think?" His teasing was in good nature, and Claire responded by swatting his upper arm in a manner that was still oddly refined despite its puerility. The part-veela sniffed and pointedly looked away from him.
"I don't know where you get those ridiculous notions from Hadrian, Jacob is hardly an acceptable match for me."
Jacob Korin was in their year, and was a pureblood, universally respected in the school, and regarded with affection. He was also one of the few people Hadrian ever felt truly comfortable around. Claire had fancied him since fourth year, and Hadrian immensely enjoyed provoking the girl whenever he had the chance.
"Come now darling, Jacob is intelligent, powerful, a pureblood, handsome…surely you could do worse?"
A glint came to Claire's eyes, "Perhaps you should court him then, if you are so knowledgeable of his personality."
She was hoping to fluster him, but Hadrian merely grinned wolfishly as he stood and leaned to whisper in her ear. "Who said anything about courting?" he stepped back and winked as he tugged his bag onto his shoulder, "I've already had my fun with him."
She gasped, eyes alight with interest as her quick mind rushed to put together what he truly meant. "Did you actually...?" She seemed hesitant to voice her conclusion though, and Hadrian used her minor distraction to begin walking away. Let her assume what she liked. Claire would never spread any rumour pertaining to him, and certainly not Jacob when she desired him.
He heard her sharply call after him, no doubt annoyed at him for dropping such a claim and then leaving her unsatisfied with no answers.
Claire caught up with him easily and Hadrian momentarily cursed the fact that her legs were longer.
"I don't believe it. You and Jacob would never do that. You respect each other too much." She was like a dog with a bone, he mused quietly. Or, more accurately, a shark that scented blood. "Hadrian!" she whined when he refused to acknowledge her.
"Let it die, Claire. I'm too tired to play today."
"You little liar!" she laughed, slapping his shoulder again. "I hate it when you play mind games with me, I can never tell when you are joking or not."
"You're just mad that you can't spot my lies anymore, Claire. You used to revel in the fact that I was a hopeless little boy."
She smiled gently at him, and looped her arm through his. Hadrian allowed it and did not resist when she subtly took control of their direction. "I remember when we were eight," she chuckled in amusement, "I had never seen such a scrawny boy before, and I thought 'He'll never last here, he's too soft', and now look at you."
Hadrian rolled his eyes, "Top of our year, stunningly gorgeous, and entirely too aware of my own skill."
She huffed, "Stop right there Hadrian, or your ego won't fit through the doorway."
"Ego is intangible sweetheart, and besides, magic remember?"
"You're intolerable," she groaned, brushing some of her fringe from her eyes as they exited the marvellous front door of Beauxbatons and down the marble steps to the lush gardens. Hadrian laughed at her annoyed expression, genuinely amused at their conversation.
At the sound Claire felt a small smile kick at the edges of her mouth. It was indeed rare to see Hadrian laugh like this, head thrown back and green, green eyes alight with warmth. He was so serious most of the time, or at least more refined than others in behaviour. Those who spent time with him regularly got a taste of his wicked sense of humour and sharp tongue; but only those who he was comfortable with got to see what a wonderful person he truly was underneath it all.
He was, honestly, one of the most intriguing individuals she had ever met. So many layers and secrets wrapped up in a beautiful face and strong body. There had been a time, when she first saw Hadrian with the new students, that she had scorned the young boy. The son of a squib that thought he had the right to enter such a prestigious school.
Claire felt her lips curl in a tight, self-depriving way. When Hadrian had excelled in his classwork and showed how much better than the rest of them he was…it had been a bitter pill to swallow for her. That a boy with no noteworthy family history had been so much stronger than her had broken some of her confidence. But now she could think of none more worthy than him to hold such power, no one who could be such a figure of importance and still so generous, as Hadrian was.
Unbidden, her arm tightened around his. She cared about Hadrian – deeply. Far more than she should, and most certainly more than was smart. Hadrian, for all his kindness, was dangerous. He was a wild card, and his power made him all the more unstable.
Unlike a majority of their year mates who were already fixed on their future paths, Hadrian had not once revealed where he would go. She, Jacob and a fair amount of the school, believed him to be headed towards politics. With his grades, natural charisma and easy-going personality he could quite successfully gain himself a position in the French Ministry and with time, climb the ladder – possibly even secure Minister. He was young after all, and had begun to make more significant appearances at various ministry-organised events that were breeding grounds for upcoming witches and wizards looking to make a splash.
Claire hoped that was the route Hadrian took. The boy was a bit radical in his ideas, and often reacted unexpectedly – but it was his unpredictability that made him very suited to play politician. There was nothing more detrimental then a leader that was predictable. Predictable meant weak, it meant easily countered and controlled. A leader who was unforeseeable was protected, as long as they had the mind to plan ahead. Hadrian was sharp and cunning, with a mind predisposed to strategy.
"You're being unusually quiet today," his voice snapped her from her thoughts, and Claire turned to see him watching her curiously. "you've had me in your clutches for almost ten minutes and you have yet to drown me with prattle and gossip." It was his own way of asking her what was troubling her. So like Hadrian, to be so indirect with his concern. She smiled at him, her chest warmed by his care, however hidden it was.
He blinked at her genuine expression of happiness. "I am fine my friend." she spoke, squeezing his arm again and pulling him more demandingly than she had been. "Let us find Jacob, you know how he gets if he does not see you at least twice a day."
Hadrian hummed "And we mustn't let poor, sweet Jacob suffer, correct? Some separation from me would do him good," his eyes drifted to the group they were approaching, almost instantly landing on the topic of their conversation. "I cannot always be there to starve off his boredom."
Claire laughed, drawing the group's attention to them just as they reached them, "Perhaps you're right Hadrian, but we graduate this year, let him have his fun while he can."
"Oh, Hadrian and I are quite adept at making our own fun, aren't we?"
"I've already used that idea with her today Jacob, though my own hint was far more subtle then that attempt." Jacob merely grinned at the two of them and latched onto Hadrian's spare arm, yanking the dark haired boy down on the fountain lip with him. Claire sat herself carefully on Hadrian's other side, delicate hands smoothing over her blue uniform skirt, content to leave them to themselves as she was drawn into another conversation with some of the others.
"Is there a reason you wanted me?" He wasted no time in beating around the bush, Jacob rarely resorted to getting others to fetch him. The Korin heir much preferred hunting Hadrian down himself – something to do with 'the chase' – and telling him news that way. So he was either feeling far too lazy, or the news he had was so important that he did not wish to waste time tracking him down.
Jacob inclined his head, his bright grin fading into something more subdued and fond. "You have always been an impatient person, in most aspects of your life I can now say." His tone was light, but Hadrian narrowed his eyes fiercely and darted a quick glance around them. Jacob chuckled, standing up and brushing off his trouser legs. He jerked his head away, "Come, we'll walk and talk. I have much to tell you."
Hadrian watched Jacob with suspicion laced with concern but stood to follow him regardless. They fell easily into sync and began to navigate their way to a more secluded area of the gardens, until the idle chatter of the hundreds of others occupying the green space began to dwindle to nothingness.
Hadrian held his questions, content in the knowledge that Jacob would share his information with him in time. They stopped just beyond the hedges of the eastern garden and Hadrian gave his friend his undivided attention.
It was an open secret amongst the upper students that Jacob had an unrivalled web with which he used to gather quite accurate titbits of information. For someone who only just reached their majority a few months earlier this was a feat – regardless that the Korin family was a prominent one in their society and held significant influence. Honestly, Hadrian was just relieved that he had secured Jacob's good will years earlier and had so far managed to keep the other from growing too curious about his own secrets.
He knew Jacob was aware that there were some irregularities in Hadrian's life, but luckily he had managed to blame that on his muggle heritage. Jacob respected him far too much to go prying into his past. Hadrian knew his mother's efforts to conceal their identities could withstand close scrutiny – they would simply have not survived as long as they had if her work was subpar – but he also knew that if one became overly curious in either one of them, and had a keen eye, it would only take a matter of time before their cover unravelled.
And that could not be allowed to happen. Not before he was ready.
Jacob wandlessly cast a privacy spell and wasted no time in divulging his findings – another reason Hadrian appreciated him. Business was business.
"I'm sure you've heard about the council meeting taking place next month?"
He nodded. It was common knowledge that every two weeks the French Ministry held a public meeting to discuss a range of topics from monetary to auror matters, and everything in between; and allowed citizens to view the processions. However, every few months a special, three day meeting occurred that involved far more sensitive discussions about high-security matters that was, unfortunately, closed to the public. The next one was due to occur next month.
Jacob, seeing his nod, continued. "Yes well, I've heard whispers of one topic that will definitely be on the table during the meeting." The pureblood leaned comfortably against the dark trunk of a tree and stared into Hadrian's eyes. "Britain's pushing for the reinstallation of the Triwizard Tournament."
What?
Hadrian blinked, and though he knew his surprise was plainly visible he was hardly bothered by his lapse in composure. This was beyond anything he could have assumed; it was ridiculous in all aspects. His fingers twitched.
What is Britain thinking? Reinstallation? There's no way they could convince the other Ministers to agree to this. It was stopped for a reason.
"It's been banned for two-hundred years." He said quietly, more for the sake of filling the silence between them.
Jacob inclined his head "Two-hundred and five if you want to be pedantic about it." He did not offer any other comments, seemingly content to allow Hadrian time to absorb and evaluate. He understood, to an extent, how his friend's mind worked and had no issue with waiting. If anything, it gave him time to observe Hadrian without restriction.
Hadrian narrowed his eyes and stared blankly off to the side as he allowed his thoughts to run.
It has to be Voldemort's doing, there's no other explanation. But why? It makes no sense to re-establish the tournament. He's shown no signs of turning his attention outside of Britain since he conquered it, and unless he plans to use this as a way to gain a foothold in Europe there's absolutely no purpose. He's hardly stupid – the tournament was barred because it was considered far too dangerous and was widely unpopular after so many unnecessary deaths. He would know that proposing this could damage his public image so why –
A cold sensation filled him.
Could he…but no. No, there's no way he could know about me. Mum left no evidence of where we fled, and even if he had somehow caught wind of me there is nothing linking me to the Potter family. He'd hardly do something this reckless just on the off-chance he'd run into me – there are much subtler, and easier, ways to kill me. It can't be that. There's something I'm missing.
"Did Britain give a reason?"
Jacob shrugged, "Something about it being a large part of our culture, and how it could repair the bond between our countries by 'fostering international relationships' between the next generation of witches and wizards." A small grin flickered on Jacob's handsome face, "Personally, my father thought that was a load of hippogriff dung; and I'm inclined to agree."
Hadrian hummed and rubbed a hand through his hair. "Who proposed it?"
"The Minister, Lucius Malfoy."
Hadrian's eyes flashed, "Malfoy? Not Voldemort?" He watched as Jacob wrinkled his nose at the name, and cursed himself for the slip. He was always careful to hide his true opinions of Voldemort, and in the instances he felt himself unable to do so, always excused himself before he drew attention to it.
Voldemort might not have the same presence here in Europe that he had in England, but he was rarely so disrespectfully addressed.
Whether by luck, or some divine intervention, Jacob ignored his mistake. "It was definitely Malfoy, the Dark Lord wasn't even in France at the time. Why?"
Indecision prickled at his chest. He trusted Jacob as much as he could trust someone other than his mother, but did he trust him enough to bring him into this? He would not be able to see his mother for another two weeks. He supposed he could owl her, inform her immediately…but what would she do with the information? Sit on it for two weeks? Or would she make preparation without him?
No, he decided swiftly. He would wait for the upcoming holiday when he could explain to his mother in person and have a say in what their next move would be. His mother was cunning, but the only way he could ensure she did not act rashly was to tell her later. That way, he would have time to organise his own thoughts and come up with some arguments of his own. Course of action decided, he answered his friend.
"Don't you find it odd?" he began, looking closely at Jacob from the corner of his eyes. "That they'd be pushing for this now? He's been in control of England for almost fifteen years, but that hardly means his rule is stable. Sure, resistance has dwindled, but such a rash move could topple everything he's worked for."
He knew he made the right decision when Jacob adopted a thoughtful expression. He could do this. He could allow someone else in without revealing anything too critical. Jacob would not betray him.
"I suppose it is a bit of a gamble for him to do this, but it's not completely absurd when you take into account certain things." Jacob rubbed his clean-shaven chin as he continued to share his thoughts. "I've heard from some that he's trying to reverse the damage their blood prejudices have inflicted on Britain. Their pureblood families are dying out due to their unwillingness to taint their bloodlines. Opening up the tournament allows for Britain's pureblood youth to make firmer connections with European families and possibly secure some marriages. It's not inconceivable."
He had not even considered that. The bubble of tension in his chest loosened the longer Jacob spoke.
"He could also be recruiting, I suppose. Using the tournament as a chance to have a look at the up-and-coming witches and wizards outside of Britain; getting an idea of potential future alliances he could make." A sly look was tossed his way, "Better watch out for that then my friend, you'd make a pretty prize for anyone."
Hadrian shot him an unimpressed glance to disguise the revulsion that curled in his throat at the thought of ever submitting to the likes of Voldemort.
Jacob waved his irate look away with a sharp laugh and Hadrian continued their conversation with another theory. "He could be using this as an excuse to show his power off. By being the country that proposes the idea this is as much a statement as anything. It's showing he's comfortable in his own standing. He'd hardly risk this if he wasn't confident in his ability to maintain control over the populous."
"That is possible." There was a pause and Hadrian found himself being pinned under his classmate's intense scrutiny. "Why are you so interested in their motives, Hadrian?"
Hadrian forced his body to relax, and shrugged carelessly. "I just find it odd. You admitted much the same. It's suspicious, that's all."
He did not buy it. He could tell by the way a muscle in Jacob's jaw clenched mere seconds after he spoke. It caused something much like guilt to pierce his chest, but he could not risk this. Jacob was one of his closest confidents, but he refused to draw him into the shit-storm that was his real life. It would be selfish and reckless and he would never forgive himself.
Jacob watched him closely for another moment, before he looked away, disappointment written in every line of his face. "One day you'll trust me enough." He said quietly. The soft words made Hadrian grimace and look away from the resignation in Jacob's expression.
He said nothing, because what was there for him to say? He turned to head back to their group, but had barely moved four steps before his wrist was seized and he was tugged back towards Jacob.
Caught off guard, he stumbled, and the split second of confusion allowed for Jacob to push him against a tree and cage him between his arms. Realising what was happening, he looked up to see a grin on Jacob's face and raised an unenthusiastic eyebrow. "Really?" he drawled.
"What?" Jacob asked, innocence practically dripping from his mouth.
Well, at least he's moved on from his disappointment.
"Let me go, Jacob." He pushed on his friend's chest firmly, but otherwise made no effort to free himself – which they both knew he was perfectly capable of achieving, if he so wished. "'Just this once', remember?"
His friend hummed and dipped his head slightly to trace his nose along his jaw playfully. "That was last week, before I knew how good you were." He pressed closer and moved his lips more insistently against Hadrian's skin. Hadrian let his head fall back with a dull 'thunk' and sighed – partly in exasperation and partly in amusement. "Come on Hadrian, you still owe me my payment."
Hadrian made a noise in his throat and shot Jacob a knowing look. "You usually want money, or help with your assignments. Since when did I agree to this form of compensation?" Jacob pulled back from his neck long enough to give him a bemused look, clearly annoyed at his resistance, no matter how weak it was.
"Since you propositioned me last week; if I'd have known you were open to both sexes I would have done this far earlier, I assure you." One of Jacob's hands wound its way into his dark hair and played with the ends. He meant that. If he had even caught a hint that Hadrian had no objection to being with another male he would have approached the other boy years ago; back when he first began to notice the way Hadrian tended to lick his bottom lip when he was deep in thought, or how enticing his neck looked when he stretched, or how when he stared into your eyes you felt trapped and exposed and smothered all at the same time.
He grinned when Hadrian's hand on his chest curled to fist his shirt and the slightly younger boy gave a grin of his own. "Firstly, I was drunk when that happened and you know it, and secondly," Hadrian pushed against him, forcing him to take a step back, before using Jacob's confusion to switch their positions. His grin turned decidedly more predatory and Jacob shivered in appreciation at the change.
"I prefer being in control."
OoO
The pads of her fingers lingered tenderly over the man in the photo. As she watched, he looked at her in surprise before his entire face broke into a beautiful smile. It was the kind of smile that changed the day of anyone who saw it, the kind that could persuade and comfort.
It was a smile that used to provoke deep aggravation in her, then exasperation, then love as the years rolled by and its owner wormed his way into her life and heart. Now, instead of being filled with youthful adoration, the sight of it brought a sharp bitterness and longing to her; because it was all she had left of the man she loved now.
"Maman?" A voice called out, and the sound of it broke her reverie. How had she not heard his arrival? He was hardly capable of using the floo without tripping over himself on the best of days. She should have at least heard the flaring of the hearth as it activated.
Folding the worn photo and slipping it into her robe, she stood. "In here, sweetheart."
There was a pause, and then she could hear his soft footfalls as he made his way to her study. Mere moments later, his head poked around the door and he smiled when he caught sight of her by the desk. The sight of him made a different kind of ache fill her, but she stubbornly pushed it aside and moved to him.
He was already halfway across the room, and wrapped his arms around her so she rested snuggly against his chest the second she was close enough. He was taller than her now, she realised dimly, too focussed on the feel of having her beloved child back with her.
"Maman?" he asked softly, pulling away slightly so he could look at her. Concern was etched into his green eyes – eyes she knew were a mirror of her own.
This was her sweet boy, always worrying after her instead of himself. Never missing any change in her mood, always asking after her. She smiled as she gently cupped the side of his face in her hand and stroked her thumb across his cheek.
Instantly his hand was covering hers, and he leaned into her touch with closed eyes and a look of absolute tranquillity. She could almost see his defences melting away. Normally she would remind him that he should never let his guard down – not even around her – but after so long of not having her son near, perhaps…she could allow him one night of freedom.
"Harry," she murmured softly to gain his attention. A slit of vibrant green in each eye let her know he was listening to her. "come, you must unpack and tell me how you went."
He sighed but let her go. "Of course maman," he murmured, voice perfectly respectful as she watched with a heavy heart as the walls rose swiftly in her son. She had not meant to push him away.
Harry, ever observant, must have noticed the shadow that appeared over her. He sent her a quirky grin, and a spark of mischievousness entered his eyes. "I slept with Jacob." He proclaimed, utterly without remorse or embarrassment at telling his mother.
The sorrow that tended to plagued her evaporated, and she cocked an eyebrow even as she began to grin. "And that's the highlight of your year so far?"
Harry ducked his head and rocked backwards on his heels. His face remained unrepentant despite the meek posture. "Well, technically it'd count as several highlights since it was a repeated occurrence, but yes I dare say it was."
She laughed, delighted at her son's attitude and how good it felt to just be with him again. "And?" she asked, eyes alight once more, "how did he do?"
Harry adopted a scandalised expression. "Why maman, I am shocked. Asking such personal questions about your own son's sex life." He paused in his mock-scolding for a moment, "And it was very good, especially when he did this trick with his-"
"Enough, Harry," she interrupted with a laugh at his gall. "tell me about your classes sweetheart."
And so, for the next hour Harry told her everything to do with his schooling while she flittered about the kitchen to prepare them dinner. Harry watched her from his perch on the counter top, occasionally helping her retrieve what she needed, or wandlessly floating an apple around their heads. His voice was soothing as she worked, and the ache she usually felt whenever Harry left for school slowly changed to the familiar warmth he always brought with him when he returned.
Eventually though, Harry's voice trailed off. Curious, she half-turned to him just in time to catch the brief flash of indecision on his face before it smoothed over.
She placed the knife she had been using on the cutting board and faced him fully. "Harry?" she questioned, watching him closely. Harry blinked and refocussed on her.
"What's-"
"The Triwizard Tournament will be reinstated."
OoO
Hadrian watched critically as his mother's face became impassive the moment his words processed in her mind. He felt a moment of envy at her impeccable control over her emotions before it was brushed aside. They had more important things to deal with right now.
"Reinstated?"
He inclined his head.
"It is already decided?"
"Not entirely, but I doubt the French or Scandinavian Ministries will put up much of a fight." Just as he predicted, his mother found the hidden meaning in his words. Her green eyes flared.
"Voldemort." She spat.
Hadrian nodded once again, calm in the face of his mother's rage. "My thoughts as well. Though Malfoy was apparently the one to propose the idea."
"It doesn't matter who proposed the idea Harry, we know Malfoy is just a figurehead. This has Voldemort written all over it, what concerns me is why?"
Hadrian leant back on his hands and watched as his mother's mind began working. He hated to break the moment they were having, it had been so long since he and his mother had had a chance to just be themselves. But he could not put off this conversation any longer.
"I doubt he knows about us maman," he spoke softly "because if he did he wouldn't go to such lengths to confirm his suspicions. He has no idea where we went after the attack, and even if he somehow caught news of me he wouldn't automatically jump to the right conclusion."
He hopped off the counter and put his hands on her shoulders, waiting until she met his eyes and the anger in them had cooled. "Think maman, if he knew about us we would have already been attacked, or there would be surveillance, or any number of horrible things would have happened."
He could see the grudging acknowledgement on her face and let her go, satisfied that she was now thinking clearly.
Lily Evans' mind was, without a doubt, her greatest asset. She eyed him closely for a moment before turning back to the cutting board to give her hands something to do as she listened to her son. "What are your theories, then?"
Hadrian sighed and ran a hand through his messy hair. "I have several really. Mostly I think this is just a political play to spread his influence into Europe. Britain's been particularly quiet on the international stage for a while now, getting their affairs in order. This announcement could act as his declaration that he's ready to expand his empire." He licked his bottom lip in thought. "Jacob supposed that he could be looking to make alliances with European families, bring in fresh stock for the English purebloods. But he also suggested recruitment."
"Jacob?" Lily asked sharply, her eyes snapping to his face and the disapproval was stark in the downward twist of her mouth. Hadrian raised his hands helplessly.
"He was the one that brought me the news maman, and I picked his brain for ideas. I didn't reveal anything, I'm not an idiot."
Lily shook her head, fiery hair jostling at the harsh movement. "That's not what I meant Harry. I know you care for Jacob and your other friends, but you cannot let your affection cloud your judgement. Talking to them about these matters is dangerous, not just for us but for them as well. We've been lucky to keep up this charade for as long as we have. You know how critical secrecy is."
"I know, I've always known how important it is, but you do realise that I won't always been able to hide behind our lies. One day, someone is going to figure it out and what will we do then maman? Run to some other corner of the world, make new names and pray it doesn't happen again?" He could feel the frustration in him growing. "You do realise that they could help us? My friends might be children now, but in the future they will be the elite of French society. If they knew who we really were they could help us prepare, help us-"
"Enough!"
Hadrian's mouth clicked close on instinct.
Lily sighed deeply, and brushed her hair away from her face. Her eyes were tightly closed and Hadrian could see the stress weighing on her. He felt shame prickle at his chest that he had caused the weary expression. He could count on one hand the number of times he had raised his voice at his mother. They rarely fought, because when they did their fights were ugly and painful and they both knew how to twist their words into weapons.
"I understand you're frustration Harry, but we must protect ourselves. I'm sorry. This was never the life I wanted for you, but this is where we are." She reached out and delicately brushed her fingers over his cheekbone. He barely had time to register her touch before she was pulling away and retreating from the kitchen, leaving him standing alone next to their half-prepared food.
He groaned loudly and hung his head. "Merde."
That had not gone the way he had wanted. But he knew better than to run after his mother and apologise. He had crossed a boundary, and pressing his mother after he had prodded at a wound was not a wise decision unless he wanted her to close away from him more.
Hadrian knew very little about his father. Lily had lost something of herself that night when she had fled from their home in Godric's Hollow, and could barely bring herself to speak of James Potter. Hadrian knew his father had been an auror, he knew he had been a powerful man, and he knew he had given his life to give his beloved wife and son an opportunity to escape. But he knew next-to-nothing of the man behind the stories.
And now he had gone and reminded his mother that her husband was dead and gone.
Gods, he could be such an insensitive bastard sometimes.
Hadrian left the kitchen, making his way towards his room and collapsing on his bed. He carelessly tossed an arm over his eyes to shut out the trickle of afternoon light.
He would mend things with his mother at a later date, once they had both cooled their tempers. Right now he had to work out what he would do with the inevitable reintroduction of the Triwizard Tournament - because it would be started again, he just knew it. France and Scandinavia would not let themselves be intimidated by Britain. They would see this as a direct challenge to their pride. It did not matter if the tournament was originally banned because it was seen as a horrible waste of young lives, they would willingly throw a young witch or wizard into the tournament just to prove themselves.
And Hadrian had a horrible feeling he would be dragged along for the ride. He was widely known in Beauxbatons as the strongest in his year - or at least the one with the most raw power at his fingertips. It would not matter where the tournament took place, he would be expected to go as a representative. Which would put him right in the snake's jaws. Even if he was not chosen as the champion, he would still be trapped until the tournament was over.
He could only pray that Jacob was wrong and that Voldemort was not on the lookout for new recruits, because otherwise he had no idea how he would be able to fly below the radar with a fucking Dark Lord lurking around him.
Hadrian moved his arm and scrubbed a hand over his face.
Whatever happened, he would have no answers tonight. The meeting was two days away, and it was only then that he would get his answers and could properly begin to plan his next move. For now, he was exhausted.