Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. No Copyright Infringement intended.

Warnings: Language, AU, Non-cannon, OOC, mentions of mpreg, slash

Notes: I'm sorry for any grammar and spelling mistakes. Please review, favorite, and follow! Thanks for everything, you guys are the best! I'm so sorry for this being so dreadfully short, my brain decided not to work with me at all today or this week. I also apologize for it being so late. Thank you for those who didn't give up on me or this story

Love, dreams

*This is not Beta'd so I'm truly sorry for any mistakes I might have missed.

Ethereal

Chapter Twelve

When Hadrian awoke, he recognized the scent of bleach, disinfectant, and potions. He was in the Hospital Wing. Joy.

Observing his surroundings, he saw his father reading a Potions magazine whilst sitting on a chair next to him. His Uncle was sitting on the side of him, conversing with Nagini. Hadrian saw Madame Pomfrey bustling about as some injured students ambled inside. His limbs felt like lead, and there was the feeling of a cotton ball in his mouth. At first, he felt disorientated. What the hell happened? One minute he was in a vision and the next—nothing. The world was a blur of colors and voices mixing together like a kaleidoscope.

"What…" Hadrian began to say. "What happened?"

His father and uncle both looked at him. The matron was still bustling about, muttering about the foolishness of schoolboys and girls.

"You went into shock," informed his father. "Do you remember why?"

Hadrian blinked. Why'd he go into shock?

He stiffened.

Hadrian felt uncomfortable getting touched this way – his skin crawled, as if this action was vile and his body was telling him that this was wrong, that he wasn't supposed to be touched like this by a stranger he knew absolutely nothing about.

Only I would get molested in a vision, Hadrian thought to himself. His heart was thudding in his chest, he couldn't move. All he felt was the mans' fingers on his skin and he wanted it gone.

Out! Out! Out! Out!

"Don't forget, little one," the man murmured in his ear. "You belong to me."

He felt a warm hand cup his chin. "Hadrian?"

He blinked and shuddered. "Why is it always me?" he moaned out.

Severus and Voldemort shared a look. "Care to elaborate?" asked Voldemort.

Hadrian wasn't hearing them as he muttered, "Why do I have to be the one to get molested in a vision? What sense does that make?"

"WHAT? SOMEONE DID WHAT TO YOU IN A VISION!?"

Hadrian's head snapped towards Hermione. She looked murderous. "Who was it?" questioned Hermione. "Who?"

"I don't know," Hadrian replied. "He had golden eyes — and he said I belonged to him."

"You belong to no one," hissed Voldemort, sounding very snake-like. "Do you not know whom this man looks like?"

Hadrian shook his head. "Every time I have a vision with him in it, his face is always blurred and shifting, but his eyes are golden. That's all I'm able to see."

"Golden eyes?" murmured his father, onyx eyes gleaming as they searched for information. "I'm afraid I don't know anyone who could possibly fit this man."

Hadrian caught Hermione's eye. She blinked once, twice, before nodding subtly.

"You really gave everyone a scare," said Voldemort.

His father nodded, peering at him. "Does this happen as often as your panic attacks?"

Hadrian blinked. "No."

"Why don't I believe you?" said Voldemort, his red eyes staring him down.

Hadrian looked at his hands before sighing heavily. "I can control it. It only happens when I let my guard down, like the panic attacks." Voldemort and his father stared down at him. He huffed. "I'm fine."

"I do not believe the hatchling," Nagini spoke.

Hadrian groaned. Great — even the snake thought he was lying.

Then, Hadrian froze as another vision swept over his eyes.

"You must find him," he thundered. "He holds the key to Tom's down fall."

"Who are you talking about now, Albus?" asked Minerva. Hadrian noticed that she looked old, exhausted. Aged.

"Hadrian Roux," said Albus Dumbledore. "I can see it in his eyes—he knows how to end Tom's reign of terror."

"I don't know about you, laddie," grunted Moody. "But I doubt he'd listen to us since we kidnapped him and killed his mother."

"A minor setback," Dumbledore said, waving his hand as if Grace Williams' death held no importance to the Greater Good. Hadrian's blood boiled—this was his mother!

Molly glared at the man. "A minor setback?! We've harmed the poor soul." Molly sighed, drooping her shoulders. "I give up, Albus. I've lost everything I once held dear to me—my husband, my children, my home. I'm not a Prewett nor am I a Weasley. I have no name, no inheritance. I was left with nothing. We're fighting a lost war."

"We are not!" Dumbledore shouted. "The war has not been won yet! We can still emerge victorious. Tom cannot have his stronghold forever. Do you want your children to grow up in a land where there is only Darkness, Death, and Fear?"

Molly looked visibly shaken. Minerva's lips were pursed into a thin line. Moody sighed. Various other Renegades looked grim but determined. Hadrian was shocked that they still had the audacity to try and overthrow Voldemort, the one who had fingers in everything possible. Barely anything got done without him hearing about it. This made Hadrian wonder. Where was their headquarters?

"We cannot be holed up in France, forever." Dumbledore added. "Now, who would like to be the one to bring our Savior to us?"

Hands rose.

Hadrian blinked and said one simple word.

"Fuck."

"HADRIAN ROUX — WATCH YOUR MOUTH!"

"Prongs…" breathed out Sirius Black. "The tapestry."

James Potter looked up, eyebrows furrowing together in confusion. "What are you talking about, Padfoot?"

"Follow me," was the short reply.

Rising to his feet, James quickly walked behind one of his best friends until they entered one of the sitting rooms in Potter Manor where the family tapestry lay on one of the walls. Sirius pointed towards James's name and picture, to the connected line that was once Isabella Potter nee Moon, and to the other line going downwards to their child — his beautiful daughter, Lily. There was a line going through Isabella's picture and name, signifying her death to the world but Lily's picture and name was clear, like James'.

"…how?" whispered James. "How is this possible? My daughter is dead, Sirius."

"She isn't." Sirius said. "Lily Moon is a Hogwarts student, Hufflepuff, but I don't have her in my course therefore I haven't had the chance to get a good look at her. Moony might've, though."

"Dumbledore said…"

"Dumbledore lied, James."

The Potter Lord crumbled to his trembling knees. He raised a shaking hand to outline his daughters' small face. Tears rolled out of his eyes, dripping onto the floor.

"Prongs?" murmured Sirius. He placed his hand on James' shoulder for comfort. He knew what it was like to lose a child. Miscarriages made sure of that. He knew how heartbreaking it was.

James let out an airy laugh. "She's alive. My daughter is alive."