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Hadrian could admit, if only to himself, that the faint hum underneath his skin was purely due to his excitement.

"Are you sure this is the best option?" Claire asked him from the corner of her mouth. They had just returned from Medical Studies, and Hadrian was in a fine mood, all things considered.

He smiled at her but did not answer.

She made a distressed noise, "Hadrian, I do not know what you are planning, but please be careful. He is not someone to be trifled with." Claire had at first been horrified to hear the truth about Riddle, but she had adapted swiftly, as she always did. Hadrian knew that she would never be at ease in the man's presence, however.

"I am always careful," he replied evenly.

"You are the single most reckless person on this planet," Raina interjected, her tone resigned. "Your idea of a good time is purposefully antagonising the strongest Dark Lord in history."

Hadrian tipped his head coyly. "He antagonised me first. An eye for an eye, and all that. Besides," he continued brightly, "he deserves it."

Claire shared a despairing look with Raina, but the other girl had had longer to grow accustomed to Hadrian's complete lack of restraint when it came to Voldemort.

She shrugged in response.

Claire sighed heavily, wrapping a hand around his arm tentatively. "Just try and act somewhat normal, then. I have already had several people ask me if you are alright."

Hadrian snorted, "What – is me being happy so suspicious?"

Raina nodded, "With everything that has happened to you lately? Yes. Everyone either thinks you have been taking alihotsy or that you have finally snapped and killed someone and are still riding the high."

"So morbid," he remarked dryly. "I feel like I should be offended but somehow the fact that no one would turn me in for murder is sweet."

Raina laughed, their shoulders knocking together as they walked towards the Defence classroom. "I think it is because we are all secretly hoping you will. One particular person, of course."

"Of course," Hadrian agreed, lips twitching in amusement. They turned a corner, but a sudden voice behind them prompted them to stop.

Hadrian turned, his humour cooling when he recognised who had called out to him.

Forst jogged up to them, slowing only when he was within a few metres. His expression was polite, but Hadrian could read the uncertainty in every line of his body. "Forst," he greeted pleasantly, aware of how Claire and Raina had become statues beside him.

"Evans," the other boy returned, dipping his head to the two girls without taking his eyes from Hadrian.

This was going to be interesting.

"May I speak to you – privately?"

"I don't think so," Raina snapped, stepping forward with the beginnings of a snarl on her lips. "You think we would let you be alone with him? After what she did?"

Forst grimaced, but his magic was shining with so much earnestness that Hadrian could not help but be intrigued. He reached out and cupped his hand over Raina's shoulder, gently tugging her back.

She studied him, disapproval bludgeoning its way onto her pretty face. "Hadrian, no. You do not owe him anything."

"True," he conceded, flashing her a quick grin, "but I am feeling particularly gracious today. Forst won't hurt me."

That, at least, he knew. If the subtle wince Forst gave was any indication, he knew that as well.

"I will meet you two in class."

Claire and Raina were clearly annoyed, but with another quiet assurance from him, they both went. Hadrian watched their backs as they left, then turned to Forst and smiled with his teeth. He switched to German to give them another small measure of privacy.

"You have three minutes. I suggest you spit out whatever you have to say."

Forst took a breath.

"I wished to…apologise for Galiana's actions."

Hadrian rocked back on his heels, not surprised, but unimpressed. He held up a hand, "I am going to stop you there, Forst. An apology from you means nothing seeing as you did not wrong me; and it is, frankly, a little insulting. If you are here to make sure I won't be trying to kill your champion in her sleep, you have nothing to fear. Outside of the tasks, Kaiser's ranking on my list is so low she barely makes the page. You can rest easy."

Forst shook his head, his mouth pinched into a thin line. "I could care less whether you seek retribution from her. That is your business, and regardless of what you decide, neither myself nor the others will interfere."

Hadrian narrowed his eyes, waiting.

Forst sighed, "I merely wished to tell you that her actions and views have no impact on my own – and that I hope what she did does not damage our friendship."

"Are we friends, Forst?" Hadrian asked, genuinely interested to hear the other's response.

The Durmstrang boy paused, the glint in his eyes sharpening. "I would rather be friends than enemies," he eventually admitted.

Hadrian let out a laugh, looking out the window to his right. The Black Lake stretched out beneath them, the afternoon sun shining over the smooth surface.

After a moment, he turned back to the other, wanting to push. "And Kaiser? I can't imagine she is too pleased with this."

Forst shrugged, still tense, but calmer in a way. "Galiana made her bed," he told Hadrian, something close to disgust seeping into his tone. "Now she can lie in it."

Hadrian made a soft noise in the back of his throat and stepped closer until they were toe-to-toe. He stared for a beat, then began to circle the other.

"I will be going after her in the third task," he said idly. "Whatever it is, I will not hesitate to target her. She went out of her way to attack me, and I have a habit of getting even. Are you sure you want to – and pardon my pun – throw her to the wolves like this?"

He came to a stop behind the boy, leaning in and smiling lightly as he allowed a thread of his magic to leak into the air around them. "She took my wand. She left me for dead in that forest," he murmured, breath ghosting over the back of Forst's neck. "I'll take a pound of flesh out of her for that."

Forst shivered, though Hadrian knew he was not necessarily scared. Something told him it would take more than a little threat to rattle this one.

"Like I said," Forst answered, looking over his shoulder to meet Hadrian's heavy gaze. "She made her bed. Whether you take revenge or not is not my business."

Hadrian hummed, giving the other more space. He reeled his magic back in, "Okay then."

Forst blinked, "What?"

"This was a nice chat, but I will be late for Defence if I do not leave now." Hadrian slipped around him and started walking.

Forst was silent, his confusion palpable. "That's it?"

Hadrian spun, still walking backwards. He winked, "I'll see you around, friend."

He left Forst there, quickening his steps as he let his thoughts mull over that exchange.

It had been more than he was expecting from the Durmstrang boy, if he was honest. He and Forst had only had a handful of conversations between them, and while Hadrian had found him likeable and engaging, he had not thought that Forst valued his favour enough to outright stand against his school's champion.

It was curious, and a part of Hadrian could not help but smirk at the knowledge that Kaiser had infuriated her own schoolmates to this level. Perhaps it was petty of him, but Hadrian was not a saint, and he believed he was entitled to a sliver of bitterness.

He had meant what he said as well. While he had no plans to go after Kaiser right now, the moment the third task started he would be looking to repay her for what she did in the forest.

He was not a forgiving person, after all.

"There you are."

Hadrian looked up to see Raina and Claire waiting outside the classroom. A few Hogwarts students were just entering as he joined them.

"How was it?" Raina asked as they ducked inside the room.

"Enlightening," he muttered, leading her over to the desk they had claimed at the beginning of the year. "I will tell you later."

She nodded, taking her seat, and pulling out her books. Raina cast a searching look around the room, and when she noticed that Riddle was not in yet, she leaned over. "What are you going to do about," she gestured vaguely to his marked forearm.

"Don't worry about it," he told her, "I will talk to him after class. He is a surprisingly capable teacher; it would be a shame to embarrass him in front of his students."

Raina's expression clearly showed her thoughts on the topic, but whatever scathing comment she had was cut off when Riddle entered the classroom.

The man's eyes met Hadrian's for a long moment; smoothly moving on before the attention could become obvious.

Hadrian told himself that the small hitch in his breathing was also because of his excitement at outmanoeuvring Riddle. Not because the last time they had spoken to each other the man had had a hand on his cock.

OoO

She entered the small café, her red lips pursing in faint dismay at being in such a subpar locale.

The space was well-maintained, but there were signs of wear all around her – peeling wallpaper, discolouration, mismatched furniture, stains. It was, suffice to say, not a place she would typically frequent.

It was the kind of place Narcissa would never think to look at twice, a place she would not be caught dead in.

And yet, here she was.

All because of a single letter that she really should have burned, rather than read.

Lucius would have a heart attack if he learned of this. But secrets were Narcissa's lifeblood, and really, what was one more in the grand scheme of things?

Steeling herself, she stepped fully inside and let the door close behind her. The server, a pretty little thing, greeted her cheerily from his spot by the counter; though Narcissa barely acknowledged him, content that her disguise was enough to not have her recognised.

Her eyes were pinned to the only solitary figure in the dining area.

Even under the glamour, she knew it was him. It was obvious in the way he looked at her, the controlled storm in those unfamiliar eyes, and the set to his jaw.

Sirius.

She would know that stubbornness anywhere.

Cautiously, Narcissa approached her cousin, her senses cast out for any sign of deception. She had taken a risk accepting his request, and she was uncomfortably aware of how easily she could be killed.

She was a capable witch, with a not inconsiderable amount of magic at her disposal. Narcissa would even dare to call herself an accomplished duellist – she had been able to keep up with Bella in their youth, and though it had been years since she had sparred with her sister, she knew her skills had not diminished in the least.

But the prodigy in their family had always been Sirius. Not even Bella had been able to beat him, in the rare occasions Aunt Walburga had set her sons against Narcissa and her sister.

Sirius was a masterful fighter, all grace and determination, and when he allowed himself to be, he was honestly frightening.

He could kill her here, she knew. All it would take was one second, one moment of weakness on her part, and Sirius could crush her. The British Minister's wife murdered in a quaint little café in some poor side alley – it would be amusing if the notion were not so unnerving.

Narcissa came to a stop beside the table, staring into his strange features. She inclined her head carefully, wrought with tension.

Her cousin studied her, then gestured slowly to the seat across from him. He watched her with a predator's eyes as she sat, and under the fear a part of her quivered with delight, growing stronger by the second.

Sirius was wasted with Dumbledore.

The wizened old fool wielded her cousin like he was a blunt tool, when in reality he was the sharpest blade in his collection. He had stifled Sirius, chaining and collaring him until he was nothing more than a glorified guard dog.

It was nothing short of a crime, yet another to add to the old headmaster's long list of them – but Narcissa had a tentative hope cradled in her heart now. Sirius' letter had given her hope.

"Cousin," she greeted, placing her gloved hands on the table in plain view.

Sirius' mouth twitched, a smile or a sneer trying to form, but he did not return her greeting until he put a small silver coin between them. Narcissa felt the privacy wards settle around their table, strong enough to make her skin tingle. The noise from the outside world grew muffled, though still audible enough that they should notice if something unexpected occurred. Narcissa knew that to the rest of the patrons their conversation would be indiscernible.

"Cissy," Sirius finally said, his voice surprisingly neutral given their positions.

He sat back in his chair, the line of his shoulders easing. His eyes skimmed over her with polite interest and when his lips twisted again, she knew that this time it was him suppressing a smile. "Does that getup actually work?" He asked, cocking his head.

She narrowed her eyes. The scarf covering her rather notable hair was a soft blue, matching the coat she was wearing, and was long enough that it concealed her face from everyone she was not looking at directly. The notice-me-not charm woven into the silk merely encouraged most people to forget her features; only those with significant magical strength being able to see past it.

"It does its job," she replied, cool.

His biting amusement faded, and the ensuing silence between them was rife with years of unspoken things.

Narcissa's fingers pressed hard around each other, struggling to keep her composure.

She had not spoken to Sirius since the night of the second task, and even then, there had been few words exchanged that were not used as weapons. Snippets of her life, nothing from him; and when he and Lily Potter had eventually been allowed to leave at her Lord's behest, Sirius had left without comment.

The idea of having a conversation with him, of truly speaking to Sirius for the first time in decades made her chest ache. They were family, but they had never been close, not even the illusion of affection existing between them. Narcissa had always been closer to Regu–

She cut that thought off, tried not to think of other little cousins, of a young boy – too young – tearing himself apart to appease everyone around him. Did not think of how he had vanished without a trace, nor the anger that had sat heavy in her gut for months afterwards.

Narcissa blinked, forcing her thoughts to calm. Her breathing remained steady, the turmoil never coming close to breaking her tight leash of control.

She waited for Sirius to speak, but as another minute stretched on without any attempt to shatter the silence that gripped them, Narcissa's patience began to fray. Disappointment rose in her, swift and rapid enough to make her lightheaded.

This had been a mistake.

She went to stand, only for Sirius to shoot forward, hand raised and protest on the tip of his tongue. Narcissa jerked back from the touch, heart hammering in her chest at the perceived threat before her.

They both froze, startled at the intensity of her reaction.

Something complicated and bitter dashed across his face before he pointedly lowered his hand back to the table. "I –" he stopped, looking down in frustration. "Sorry. Please don't go – not yet."

Narcissa almost slumped, her head bowing under the weight of her stinging fury. "Why did you call me here, Sirius?" She asked. "You know – you know the danger this puts us both in. You are a fugitive, a criminal, and if anyone found out we were meeting we would both suffer the consequences. So, why did you call me?"

His hesitation was obvious as he dodged her probing gaze, focussing instead on the table topper. When he spoke, there was a thread of vulnerability there that she had never heard from him before.

"Why did you come?"

She clenched her fists, jaw tightening. "Because family has always meant more to me than it did to you, and despite everything, you are my cousin."

He blinked in surprise, before scorn burned hot in his eyes. "Family? Family is important to you? Then where were you whenever my mother used to curse and torture me? Where were you when she'd make me bleed and scream and writhe on the floor because my stance wasn't perfect?" He leaned forward, voice dropping to a whisper. "Where's Regulus then, cousin? If family is so damn important to you, where is my brother?"

Her own temper flared high, her back straightening. "I'm surprised you even remember his name," she spat, because just as Sirius knew her weaknesses, she knew his. She knew where to dig her nails in and rip. "You never seemed to care in the past – running off to the Potters, abandoning him. You didn't even spare him a thought, did you? Don't you dare question me, Sirius, because at least I stayed. At least I cared enough about him to notice when he vanished. How long did it take you to figure it out – months? Years?"

Tears threatened to come, but she pushed them back. "I was a child, you fool. We all were. Children playing at war and we all picked a side. I know now that what our parents did to us – what Aunt Walburga did to you – was wrong, because I look at my son and could never dream of harming him." Narcissa stopped, recovered, then continued softly, "I came because we are still family, and I hoped that perhaps you thought so too."

Sirius was silent. Narcissa could not look at him.

Her sins were many, her hands stained red with blood – both directly and indirectly – and she rarely regretted what it had taken to get to this state, a world where her son could grow strong and safe.

But this…this she regretted.

She was not a soft woman by any means but raising her children – seeing the traces of Sirius in her son's features, seeing Regulus in his gentle nature and inquisitive eyes – made a long-ignored part of her heart tremble.

Neither of them spoke for a long while.

In the lull, two teacups flew to their table, settling neatly before them. Narcissa stared down at her hands as the tea was poured, a sweet-smelling mustard-yellow liquid that brought with it too many memories. "Chamomile?" She asked, looping her fingers through the delicate handle.

Sirius wrapped his hands around his own, making a show of drinking some. "Yeah," he said, subdued. "I remember that you used to drink it by the bucket-load. Do you…"

"Yes," she murmured, raising her own cup to inhale the soothing scent. She could detect nothing strange about it. "I still have a cup before bed every night."

He nodded, studiously avoiding looking at her. Her harsh words had clearly landed true if he had retreated. Sirius was much like his mother in that regard, though she would never tell him that. Neither of them had ever backed down from an argument unless their opponent gutted them.

Narcissa placed the cup down and sighed. "Why am I here, Sirius?"

He swallowed, and it was then that she saw the exhaustion clinging to him, how worn and brutalised he looked, even under the glamour.

"I've…been thinking," he started, and though he was finally answering her questions, Narcissa could not help but scoff.

"That's a first," she snipped.

To her astonishment, Sirius laughed, rough and dark, but genuine. "Yeah," he agreed, his smile warped. "Yeah. I've been thinking, Cissy. I feel like for the first time in years I've opened my eyes to what's happening around me. And I don't like the things I'm seeing."

She held her breath. That horrid hope pressing against her ribs once more.

"Oh?"

He slouched, that same hesitance returning. He licked his lips, grappling for the words, and when he opened his mouth she nearly froze in shock.

"I don't…I don't agree with him. I don't support him. He – he probably killed my brother; he did kill James. He took a lot of people I cared about from me. But –"

"But?" She prompted, heart racing.

Sirius closed his eyes, "But I've spent the last sixteen years of my life waiting for someone to come and challenge Voldemort, to kill him and for things to go back to the way they were before. And he did, he did come – but he doesn't want to help us. Wants nothing to do with our war, and instead of accepting it, instead of thinking that maybe hinging all our plans on a seventeen-year-old kid wasn't a good idea, they're calling him selfish and a traitor."

He looked at her, desperation creeping in. "That's not right, Cissy. He's a kid, he should be worried about school and exams and having a girlfriend or boyfriend, not dragged into a fight that was going on since before he was born. And, and hearing you talk about your kids, about Hermione…she's a muggleborn, but you love her."

"I do," Narcissa whispered, and Sirius nodded.

"She's your daughter. I don't agree with kidnapping children, and some of the policies he's implemented are awful. But I…I can't side with people who are happy pushing my godson into the line of fire. I can't, I won't let them use him like that, not when he doesn't want to fight. I can't."

Narcissa carefully schooled her features.

She understood completely. Sirius was a Black, after all, and a Black loved recklessly and violently. Their loyalty to those they considered theirs was hard to match, and it appeared Sirius had been pushed one degree too far.

His godson or his precious Order.

Anyone with sense would know what he would choose.

She bit her lip lightly. "While this is all very interesting, I cannot help but wonder why you are telling me."

Sirius huffed, meeting her eyes. "I want to keep him safe," he told her, "I want Hadrian to be able to make his own choices, and if he decides not to fight, then I stand with him. But I can't protect him like this."

She glared at him, "No, you cannot. You were an idiot, Sirius. You are the current Lord of one of the most ancient and influential Houses in Britain, fugitive or not. Your seats are untouched, your fortune and properties and assets collecting dust – if you had been smart, you would have used them. You cannot fight him on the battlefield, Sirius, but you could have fought him in the political sphere."

"I would have been assassinated within a week," Sirius told her flatly.

That was true, but Narcissa waved the fact away. "And now you wouldn't be, not if you capitalise on your unique position."

His expression darkened, "I might not agree with them, but I won't sell out the Order, Narcissa."

She actually rolled her eyes at him, "I am not talking about betraying their secrets, though that would certainly help you. You need a pardon, and he does not hand those out lightly. You need something more than information, and fortunately, I think you have an opportunity. There is a reason he allowed you to live that night, Sirius."

He frowned, confused.

"He said he promised Hadrian Evans that he would not harm his mother," she said, trying to convey the magnitude of it all. "He promised the boy that, and the Dark Lord does not make promises lightly. But he included you when he did not need to – why?"

Her cousin's expression twisted with realisation, but he did not say it.

Narcissa did it for him. "He cares for the boy, only a blind fool would miss it. Just watching them interact shows that there are some…emotions involved." She said delicately, because she did not have all the facts to make a more accurate claim, but she knew that much. "The Dark Lord extended his protection to you because he, at least, believes that Hadrian would be displeased if you were hurt. Do you understand how significant that is?"

Sirius shook his head, not in ignorance, but in denial. "Hadrian – he doesn't love me like that." The admittance seemed to physically pain him. "He barely knows me."

"So make him care," she snapped. "Make him care, and when the time comes, perhaps your godson can improve your chances of being pardoned."

Sirius' hackles went up, "I'm not going to use Hadrian like that," he hissed. "I would never put him in that spot."

"You cannot help him if you have to live in the shadows," Narcissa reminded him mercilessly. "You need your status behind you to make a difference, and you cannot get those without the Dark Lord's approval. Taking advantage of your godson's connections would benefit you both."

She rose then, knowing that there was no more she could do. Sirius did not attempt to stop her, his expression still marred with anger and revulsion.

Narcissa hovered, hands clasped in front of her. Words – too many, not enough – bubbled in her throat, all threatening to spill out at once.

In the end, she said nothing.

OoO

Hadrian took his time packing up his equipment, keeping one eye on Riddle at the front of the room as the man fielded a few last-minute questions from his students.

Raina gathered her books and stood just beside him. She did not say anything, just pressed her hand to his back in silent support, then turned to collect the other Beauxbatons students that might try and waylay him.

Hadrian hid a smile at her insight. He leaned against the desk, crossing his arms, and prepared to wait. Despite the hot rush of eagerness flowing through him, he felt remarkably patient today.

From the subtle glances Riddle had been throwing his way the entire lesson, Hadrian suspected that the man had clued into his delight.

He had been suspicious when Riddle had made no effort to approach him after the ritual. He had thought the other would have felt something when the bond was being altered – it had certainly felt like Riddle was aware – but the silence in the past days made him wonder if that was the case.

The thought that Riddle had no idea what was coming made him want to grin.

A few more minutes passed by before the lingering students finally began to file out. Hadrian waved to the ones that called out to him, watching them with half-lidded eyes until the thick door was closing behind them.

A locking charm flew just by his head, smacking into the door and separating them totally from the outside world.

Hadrian twisted leisurely to face the man, nearly vibrating with the force of his anticipation.

"Hadrian," Riddle said, standing before his desk. His eyes were cautious, no doubt a result of Hadrian's bursting glee, but he was curious as well.

"Tom," Hadrian replied, purring the name out. It was the first time he had dared use it, and from the way Riddle jolted, Hadrian knew he had caught him off-guard. "How was your weekend?" He asked, approaching steadily, relishing at how those eyes tracked him.

"Pleasant," Riddle answered, his wariness racketing up when Hadrian stopped just in front of him. "And yours?"

"Oh," Hadrian swayed back and forth innocently, "quite freeing, actually."

"You were sick yesterday," the man pointed out, though his tone implied his disbelief at the rumour.

"An unfortunate side effect," Hadrian told him solemnly, lowering his head so that his smile was not so obvious.

Riddle tensed, arms uncrossing to fall at his sides, his eyes narrowing. "Side effects?" He echoed, a warning there.

Hadrian looked up at him, hands tucked behind his back. "Hmm," he mused, "rituals can be so draining, especially ones that deal in bonds."

Riddle surged forward, a hand closing loosely around Hadrian's neck. Hardly a threat, more a reminder. "What did you do?"

"What do you think I did?" He countered, pulse flying beneath Riddle's palm.

The man paused, eyes scouring his face for any clues. "You could not have broken the bond," he said, though Hadrian was pleased at the thin note of scepticism in Riddle's tone. It was gratifying.

"The bond is still there," he assured him, "it's just a little different now."

And with that, Hadrian tore down the barrier he had meticulously built between them.

The feedback loop was a vortex, their emotions bouncing between them too rapidly to tell which belonged to who. Hadrian only remained standing because he was prepared for it. His eyes watered and after a small eternity, he entwined the bond with his magic and pushed.

The influence left him, but Riddle was forced down, and Hadrian's breath punched out of him at the sight of the Dark Lord on his knees before him.

He kept the connection open for a minute more, aware of the time, then gradually reigned the sensations back in. He could have ripped it all away at once, but Hadrian was trying to prove a point, not break the man's mind.

The only noise in the room was the harsh rasp of Riddle's panting. His face was flushed, his glamour gone, red eyes glazed and body trembling.

Desire stabbed through him.

"This is a nice view," Hadrian said hoarsely, reaching out and running his fingers along the man's jaw. He moved closer, enraptured. "The bond is a two-way connection now," he whispered, knowing the man was listening despite his state. "You can monitor me, my health, my magic – but I can channel the emotions between us, and that was only a hint of what I can do with it."

Hadrian pressed his thumb against Riddle's mouth, his own lips parting absently. "Consider us even, my Lord."

Riddle glared at him, some of his control returning now that the onslaught was over with. Hands fisted in his blazer, and Hadrian let himself be yanked forward into a bruising kiss.

This was why he had wanted to be alone for this.

His hands moved to sink into Riddle's dark hair, pulling hard enough to make the man groan. He used his position to force Riddle's head back, and slid his tongue past the man's lips, taking everything as he pleased. Dragging the noises from him and devouring them.

Riddle tried to bite him, and Hadrian pulled back with a chuckle, knowing they would have to cut this short anyway with Riddle's schedule. He ran his tongue over his bottom lip, chasing the taste of the man.

"I am going to make you scream for me one day," Riddle hissed.

Hadrian frowned, "What?"

Riddle pushed himself to his feet, one hand winding around the back of Hadrian's neck while the other slithered down around his waist. "Never mind," he said, the sibilant trill to his words missing. "You are playing with fire, Hadrian."

He was pulled in for another kiss, just as brutal as the first, the air stolen from his lungs.

Riddle spun him around, walking him back into the desk. His hands were everywhere, jerking Hadrian's shirt out from where it was tucked and greedily pressing his burning palm against the base of his spine and pressing their hips together.

"Merde," Hadrian spat. "Dieux, you have a class."

Riddle's hand trailed from his back to his front, nails scrapping against his stomach and then crawling higher until he threatened to tear through the material.

Hadrian separated their lips, scowling up at the man. "Enough, you bastard. You have first years coming in soon."

Riddle stopped, but his expression was thunderous. His fingers flexed against Hadrian's chest, on the verge of snapping.

"We are not having sex in your classroom," Hadrian said, because he liked to think he was adventurous, but he was not willing to risk being seen by children. "We won't be having sex at all," he amended hurriedly when he realised what he had said, smacking the man's hand when he was too slow removing it from under his clothes.

"Fuck." Riddle snarled, and again the sound of it was wrong.

Hadrian pushed the man back and hopped away from the desk, lest Riddle decided to hell with it and tried to pin him again. He stared at the man, puzzled, as he began to fix his uniform. There was little he could do about his mouth, unfortunately, but running a hand through his hair a few times at least made it look deliberately messy.

"What was that?" He asked, confused.

Riddle waved a dismissive hand at him, glaring at the far wall. "I suggest you leave if you don't intend to finish matters. There are only so many times I will allow you to run, Hadrian. Next time I will just chain you to my bed."

Hadrian paused in collecting his bag, a cold shiver running down his back. "What did you say?" He asked once more, half-turned towards the other.

The look Riddle gave him was irritated. "Leave," he bit out.

Hadrian stared at the man with wide eyes, pulling his bag over his shoulder. He hesitated, a suspicion creeping into the back of his mind.

He cleared his throat, suddenly queasy. "Right," he gasped, "right. Bye." He spun and fled for the door, thoughts reeling as he weighed the possibility.

There is no way, he thought hysterically, there is no way that was Parseltongue.

OoO

"He has recovered?" She asked, fingers twirling the chain of her necklace around her fingers.

"From what I have seen, he has, my Lady."

She sighed, eyes falling shut in relief. "That was too close, Erebus. If he had been killed…I do not have the time to find a replacement. You understand that, do you not?"

Those blood red eyes watched her, "Of course I do, my Lady. But I had no way of knowing the boy would leap between Malfoy's spawn and a werewolf." Unseen, his lips curled into an amused smirk. "He was far enough away that the mutt should have finished with the other before they had ever crossed paths. I was on my way to collect it when he stumbled across them and interfered."

"It should not have gotten to that point. You should have stepped in." Her anger was tangible, but the creature behind her did not react.

"The projection orbs made it difficult to get close." He reasoned, voice remaining flat.

"Like that has ever stopped you before," she snapped, spinning to skewer him with a glare. "This would have been easier if Malfoy's boy had died – but I need Hadrian, Erebus. You know why."

"I do."

"Good. Then ensure that no more harm comes to him."

Erebus paused. Tilted his head. "The third task is out of my control," he told her.

The woman laughed, shaking her head. "He will be fine in the third task. A dueller of his abilities? They will not be able to touch him. You just make sure he remains in perfect health before and after the task."

He bowed low, lips pursing lightly. "As you wish."

Let me know what you thought lovelies!

As always, my tumblr is 'Child_OTKW". Come along if you want to discover theories, scream at me, discuss my new snippets or get some behind the scenes commentary! Thanks guys!