Miserable Memories

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"Bright songs and the magic of hope are but a dangerous illusion."

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Hadrian stepped out into the night.

Thick warm air caressed his skin, forcing beads of sweat to dampen his forehead. The shine on his skin only made him seem iridescent, like the inflected gloss in tarnished marble. The harshness of his features always seemed to make itself known, never once letting the world forget the tribulations that had put it there. Three words came to mind; maimed, pained, and unrestrained. It was utterly gut wrenching to think that this boy was once so soft, so sweet - he was untouched by anything wicked.

One droplet of sweat succumbed to gravity and trickled down the side of his face. It was free flowing like condensation on a windowpane. Hadrian wiped it before it reached his jaw. He used the tip of his thumb, stamping it out while it was on the move.

It had long passed the time since the sun had sunk low in the sky. The light of the day had been drained away leaving a dark velvety night. There was something beautiful about a summer evening after the heat had cooled a little. It was as if human life had been muted and the natural world had come to life. The heated dusky evening was embraced with the subdued sounds. In a hush in the dark, the crickets chirped in the leaves, the owls hooted in the trees and the mosquitoes buzzed in the grass - filling the air with life and light.

Hadrian walked down the winding stone path that led out the side of the house. The uneven slabs did not tarnish the aesthetic, they only added archaic character to the property - rough and real. Stopping short, Hadrian noticed a granite bench that was posited just beneath a blossomed holly tree. The tree was in full bloom, glossy evergreen leaves threatened with their sharp pointed ends. The tree didn't belong here. It was a dangerous intruder in a garden full of defenseless greenery.

Nevertheless, Hadrian sat down fluidly and carefully, taking off his suit jacket and laying it next to him. The branches cascaded down, arching over his shoulder as if consoling him. A sharp needle pierced his shoulder, diving through his shirt, biting in, to only return the way it came.

Fuck.

Before he had time to fire a curse at the tree, a sudden feeling of guilt and introspection hit him square in the chest. Hadrian took a large breath. The memories of the night flashed through his mind. He saw himself - his strong grip on Pansy's neck, his snarling features, his emotionless tone. This sudden feeling was not self-inflicted - these feelings were not his own sentiments.

Hadrian narrowed his eyes at the tree, he glared at it.

As if in response, a sudden wind picked up, whipping in and out of the tree's branches. Hadrian watched as loose leaves broke free from the stems - taking flight. As if called upon, the wind broke. The leaves fell, down and down, showering Hadrian with dozens of spikes and needles. Fuck.

"Wingardium Leviosa," Hadrian murmured with a hard jaw.

The sharp leaves were suspended for a sudden moment. Then, at the beat of a second, they once again took flight. They swayed and spun, moving in pretty patterns and swooping spirals. Hadrian twitched his fingers - the leaves came together obediently, forming a tight round ball of green. It spun like a large grassy cosmos or something Professor Trelawney would gaze into to see a world of green, sharp, green. Hadrian watched it, almost obsessively, losing himself.

- Flashback

Hadrian was standing in the halls of Potter Manor, before any of the modern modifications. Boxes littered the walkway, thick black ink covered the sides of the cardboard, designating its place in the house - kitchen, bathroom... etc. The Potter family had finally moved into James's old family home. Lily had been, at first, unwilling. But, James, ever the persuader, had eventually brought Lily around. He had told her it could be her new project - one with an unlimited budget. Lily had eventually conceded, excited about how she could bring the old building into an architectural delight.

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