Never Trust A Snake

Chapter Twenty

'Dancing with the Dark'

Hadrian arrived at Riddle Manor late. He had been held back by Lily, whilst the woman had good intentions, asking him where and how long he'd be gone, she was very irritating. Hadrian groaned in annoyance, he could already hear noise from outside. He hadn't checked how late he was, but from the sounds inside, he was rather late.

He ran a hand through his hair, a frown on his face. The dark lord had made it very clear that no glamours should be worn. This left Hadrian with white hair, enchanting green eyes and many scars flowing across his pale skin. He wore a simple black shirt and black trousers. Hadrian wasn't one for formal wear and this was all he had. Thankfully, his identity would remain secret. Masks had been issued to each of the guests. Everyone received a pure black mask that covered half the face. Undoubtedly, this measure had been ensured due to the wavering loyalties of certain followers.

Sighing loudly, Hadrian put his mask in place. Now only his lower face, hair and piercing eyes were visible. That would be enough to give away that he was Hades. With a final growl of annoyance, the assassin pushed open the large doors of the ball room.

All eyes followed Hadrian as he casually stepped into the room. The walls were decorated with intricate gold patterns amongst the white. Large silver chandelier hung down, casting light over the dancing guests. Tables full of food and drink were stood against the walls. The guest's cheerfulness was filling the room. However, Hadrian presence seemed to have broken that.

Fearful eyes traced his every movement as he stepped further into the ball room. Low muttering mixed with the classical music as guests turned to each other, whispers in their lips.

"So, the assassin has finally arrived." A calm voice cut through the muttering. The Dark Lord. Hadrian quickly weaved through the crowd, towards the voice. He was greeted by Tom Riddle. The man wore a deep black suit with green patterns woven into the fabric. With a wave of his hand, the Dark Lord signalled for the ball to resume. The guests obeyed instantly.

"Always one for the attention, Tom. Of course, you would be the only person with no mask," Hadrian chuckled, green eyes connecting with red.

"So some would say," Tom drawled, "You arrived rather late." Accusation soaked his words as his eyes gleamed with judgement.

"I was held back by the Potters." Hadrian grimaced.

"And what are the Pottys like!" The familiar voice of Bellatrix Lestrange erupted beside him. The witch had obviously been waiting to join the conversation.

"Their half-hearted attempts to gain my favour have grown old quickly. I've been keeping myself sane by imagining their torture. It really is therapeutic." Hadrian responded, smirking at his last thought. Bella let out a crazed laugh at that thought aswell. A small smile even crept it's way onto Voldemort's face.

"Indeed." The Dark Lord mused, allowing his eyes to pause on Hadrian, before beckoning him to follow. The two men walked past the dancing Death Eaters and the crowded tables of food. The continued walking until they reached an abandoned section of hallway. An eerie silence filled the corridor, noone else was anywhere near.

"There is something about you, assassin," Tom Riddle whispered, his voice dripping with curiosity.

"Something different," he continued. His crimson eyes meeting green. To Riddle it may have been and inquisitive glare, but in Hadrian's strange, mixed up mind it was an invitation. Before Tom could react, Hadrian had closed the distance between them, connecting his lips with the Dark Lord's. A spark seemed to fly down his every nerve as he felt his lips moving against Tom's. Hadrian pushed forwards, hoping to deepen to kiss, to satisfy his burning need for Tom Riddle. However, opening his eyes, he noticed Tom's motionlessness and the harsh glare in his eyes. Hadrian pulled back instantly, his heart racing faster that it ever had on his missions.

"Shit," Hadrian muttered, every emotion in his mind becoming stronger and stronger, drowning everything out. Hadrian almost couldn't tell where he was going, the pounding in his head and the racing of his heart seemed to blur his vision. Thankfully, he managed to make his way back to the ball room.

Hades carefully pushed his way past dancing couples, heading towards the tables. Once there, the assassin quickly poured himself some firewiskey. Hopefully, with enough drinks Hadrian would be able to forgot this whole evening. He growled to himself, of all the things that could happen, why that.

"Already drinking?" Hadrian turned towards the voice. His gaze was met with his friends. Each of them were dressed in elegant gowns or suits, their faces hidden by black masks.

"How can you not already be drinking?" Hadrian shot back, taking a long sip of his drink. Pansy just sighed in response.

"Were only allowed butterbeer. Our parents set rather strict rules." Blaise whined, causing Hadrian to grin at his friend's predicament. A strange realisation suddenly hit Hadrian, cutting through the emotions that swirled around in his head. A frown painted his face as he looked around.

"Where's Draco?"

"I'm not quite sure, he might be with his father?" Theo suggested, the three of them joining Hadrian in looking around. Only a few minutes past, before they caught a glimpse of blonde.

"There!" Cried Pansy as she began darting past guests towards the blonde. The boys following her wake.

Finally arriving on the other side of the hall, Hadrian was even more infuriated with the damn ball. Draco sat, swaying in his seat. The boy's face was a bright red and he was panting heavily. None of the other guests seemed to have noticed, thankfully.

"Oh god. Is he drunk?" Blaise uttered out the words. Hadrian's hand grabbed Draco's face, carefully inspecting the boy.

"Very drunk," Hadrian growled, watching as Draco shifted in his seat and whined. "I'll take him home, you three inform Lucius that Draco's gone home." Before anyone could argue, Hadrian had already grabbed Draco's hand and was leading him out of the hall. At least, this misfortune came with an excuse to leave.

***

"Anger was better than tears, better that grief, better than guilt"