Hadrian grows up alone in the obscure shadow of his younger brother, Daniel Potter, The-Boy-Lived. Daniel is loved while Hadrian is forgotten. In the absence of love; a cold, hard, calculating boy is born. The story follows Hadrian's life - how the...
Hadrian stiffened, the strong panes of his body turning to stone. A shadow passed over his features, a childlike flash of terror, a glint of vulnerability. It was as if, for a moment, Hadrian was a small boy again. All the demons that had haunted him were back and it didn't even matter now that he was older.
You could see his pain in that crushing green gaze and it was enough to suspend breath, holding the next captive with the crushing realisation of what he must have gone through to install such despair. Children of abuse never truly forgot, and you better fucking believe they never truly forgave. It was because of this very reason that they could never truly let go and move on.
The haunted ones always haunted themselves.
As quickly as the pained look had appeared, it disappeared, and in its place was a vision of masculine strength; a wave of superiority, an arrogance that danced across Hadrian's shoulders making him appear taller, stronger, harder.
If the previous sight hadn't been so sincere, so fucking heart-breaking, this new skin would have been all too easy to believe. Just like all survivors, confidence was a mask used to ensure you lived the next day without hating yourself.
Hadrian shifted uneasily, his sharp green eyes looking down upon Bellatrix Lestrange. There was a familiarity in his gaze, an agonised significance that was impossible to ignore. The outward effect of their acquaintance was plain as day, actively present in the way they held themselves next to one another. It was the physical stamp left by history - a long, dark history.
Bella looked good for her age, there was something significantly sultry about the way she held herself. The black lace dress she wore cinched at her waist and accentuated her chest. The dark severe makeup made her look dangerous and alluring.
She hadn't changed at all.
She was still all wild curly hair and dark crazy eyes. The whole picture was a mixture of madness and sexuality boiled together to create something ultimately dangerous.
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Right now, she stared at Hadrian with those heavily coal-lined eyes that captured his face, his body, and his eyes far too intently. Hadrian remembered those eyes only too well, as a child they had haunted him, especially at night - those eyes and that fucking laughter.
Panic flared in his chest, burning his eyes and throat. No, no, no. Hadrian clenched his jaw shut tightly holding in a childhood scream. He felt his skin burn and tingle where her lips had touched as if alarming Hadrian to an immediate threat.
Hadrian had once consolidated over the fact that he never thought he would see Bellatrix Lestrange ever again. But here she stood, right in front of him like nothing had changed. It was as if the world seemed to enjoy playing these cruel tricks on him. The sad truth was that Bella was just one of the many ghosts that loomed in the shadows of his mind when he closed his eyes.
