The Station

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It wasn't long before the train pulled up to the station at Kings Cross. The platform was full of parents and younger siblings waiting to be reunited. Hadrian looked around the compartment, glancing at the faces of his friends. Blaise who usually maintained a look of constant vacancy, actually looked slightly jubilant at the prospect of returning home. Daphne smiled with Draco, tucking a long strand of hair behind her delicate ear, excited at what the summer would hold.

Pansy wasn't herself. Every year previously, she had commanded everyone's attention in order to discuss what summer parties they should attend, claiming they would be the social events of the season. She would consider every outfit, magazines would litter the compartment table as she scanned each model for inspiration.

Hadrian stared at her quiet form, watching her soft face for a clue to what she was thinking. A few seconds passed before she met his gaze, her eyes widening just a fraction, shocked that he was looking at her so intensely. She hid herself from him, winking smoothly, her lips pulling into a seductive smirk. It was a well polished act - but then she had done it so many times before. Hadrian clenched his jaw, pissed off at her attempt to distract him. There was something wrong, he knew it, but her flirtatious facade was preventing him from seeing it.

Pansy felt Hadrian's anger and frustrations, causing her to flinch away from him, her heart racing as he attempted to understand what she hid from him. Pansy always considered Hadrian a player, using people to get what he wanted, however it was times like these when he saw what no one else saw and used it to understand rather than to exploit. He was shockingly, a good friend.

Hadrian wouldn't leave it there - he would continue it another time, when he couldn't be so easily distracted. For now he would leave it, but she would be in for a shock the next time they were alone.

Hadrian sighed in frustration at having to go back to Potter Manor - he honestly couldn't think of anything worse. It wasn't like his parents were evil, because they weren't. However, they weren't exactly good people either. They were shitty parents for one, every since he could remember, something would always be more important than him. Since his parents had found out his brother was the Boy Who Lived, Hadrian had been ignored and pushed aside.

It was only recently that his parents had tried to get in touch with him. Hadrian had been immediately suspicious of course, why did they start caring now? But he also no longer cared, in his opinion it was much too late, even if he did believe their curiosity and interest to be their own.

They would always ask him questions about his life, constantly wondering what he was up to. They didn't know him, not at all - but he was accustomed to that, happy about it even. Their behaviour towards him seemed to change after the news that he was sorted into Slytherin. They weren't interested, they were just suspicious. The letters had started to come consistently 2 years ago after that, in his third year. The messages were not only suspicious but awkward, not particularly shocking since they hadn't seen him for 2 years.

"Hadrian, let's go," Malfoy muttered.

Hadrian snapped out of his thoughts when he heard the deliberate softness in Draco's voice, it had reduced in both volume and tone. Hadrian looked around from his position next to the window, noticing the others had left the compartment - leaving him and Draco alone. Hadrian had been staring out the window, lost in thought, while Draco had sat waiting for him. Turning his head, Hadrian regarded his best friend, thankful that he had someone that cared - someone who knew him better than anyone. Hadrian sighed tiredly, not something he would usually do if he were amongst others.

"Fuck," he exclaimed quietly, running a tired hand through his dark curls.

Despite the profanity the exhaustion in Hadrian voice made the remark seem fragile. Draco's eyebrows failed to remain passive, rising slightly at Hadrian's noticeable weariness. The intensity in Hadrian Potter for just a moment ceased to exist.

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