Chapter Text
‘’I knew that Hadrian put his name into the Goblet of Fire for a reason,” Astoria frowned. “Not that I blame him. I said it before; he and you are so alike.”
Daphne didn’t reply. She held her tongue with the aid of years of practice. She remembered the expression on Hadrian’s face when Dumbledore pronounced his brother’s name with a heavy heart. Last night, she had longed to offer him comfort. To soothe the wildness in his gaze and to make him—somehow—feel better. But she could not. Luckily, his family was there to support the two brothers.
Astoria placed her hands on her shoulders and gave her a gentle shake. “I know what you’re thinking. Hadrian is not invincible. He needs someone to lean on.”
She stepped back and broke the hold. She tried to walk around her sister, but she moved and blocked her path. ‘’Tori,’’ Daphne began to shake her head, asking her wordlessly to drop the topic. ‘’Go to your room."
The little firecracker, however, clicked her tongue, and raising a single finger, she pointed at her. ‘’I can feel the budding connection between you. Don’t let self-doubt and fear destroy something that could be so beautiful. I’m fine, I swear.”
Sometimes, she forgot that Astoria was an Empath. What made it worse was that she was blessed with a keen mind when it came to placing two and two together.
Her heart rate increased as she considered Astoria’s words. Hadrian was definitely going through a hard time. Barty Jr. Had managed to outsmart everyone and end his life on his own terms—without giving away any useful information. It was not hard to deduce that someone was after Henry. Someone who wanted to harm him.
One name only came to mind: Voldemort.
“Never be ruled by self-doubt. It doesn’t fit you,” Astoria said solemnly, “and never ever question your heart. You’ve been winnowing your feelings for years they’re barely there; otherwise, you’re bound to be alone and I’d never like that for you, Daph. You deserve happiness. That’s what Grandmother would’ve wanted for you and you don’t want to disappoint her, do you?”
“No,” she blurted out, appalled by the very idea, even though every instinct she possessed was yelling at her that she was being played by her little sister like a fiddle.
She would not be ruled by doubt. Or at the least, she would try not to be ruled by it. It was not who she was.
She kept her expression neutral and started toward the door. When she reached it, she looked over her shoulder at Astoria, found that she watched her with a pleased smirk lifting her lips and rolled her eyes. “You can go to your room now. Are you happy?”
"No," Astoria snickered. “I am ecstatic.”
Hadrian would’ve been able to reconcile himself to the fact that no one knew enough about the blasted Dark Mark and how it worked.
However, Barty’s intentions—and his unwavering loyalty to his master had been clear from the beginning. The bastard had managed to control every aspect of Voldemort’s plan and execute it to perfection, fooling them all in the meantime. Finding out his real identity didn’t help much. There was no point in denying the obvious: Barty Crouch Jr. was very good at what he’d been doing. It had been literally impossible to predict his next step.
It grieved him to admit defeat, but there was no honour in lying to one’s self.
He sat on the edge of the Owlery, gazed up at the twinkling stars, and sighed. Maybe an end to the war was in sight after all. The uncertainty, the grief, this wretched game—it would all be over. The nightmare that had been plaguing his family for years would be gone. The Fates might be moving against them, but they would stop them no matter what.
Henry would be safe. Everything would be blissfully normal. Because Voldemort was somewhere out there waiting for the auspicious moment to catch Henry. All he had to do now was be ready for the upcoming confrontation.
His feet stopped dangling from the edge when a familiar Aura washed over him. He chanced a glance over his shoulder and wasn’t surprised when he found Daphne watching him in silence with keen interest.
He patted the spot next to him and waited. Daphne blinked and with her usual gracefulness, settled down.
Sometimes, he wondered what was so special about her. He was aware that he was finding it harder not to look at her whenever she was close.
She was pretty—ethereal. But beautiful girls weren’t such a rarity that he should be struggling to take his eyes away from her. He wasn’t having any trouble keeping his gaze away from Flora or Hestia Carrow and they were two of the most beautiful witches he’d ever seen.
But something about Daphne Greengrass drew the eye. Even in a school full of girls vying for his attention, she sparkled like a diamond among the glass. Beauty wasn’t it—or all of it, at least. Her appeal went deeper. There was something endearing about her smiles, no matter how rare they were. There was something captivating about the twinkle in her icy-blue eyes, and delightfully naughty about her superior smirks. She was vivid and vivacious, brimming with inner-strength.
Hadrian, however, knew better. There was much more to her. Daphne was calculating, cunning and resourceful like every proud Slytherin but she possessed traits he appreciated above all. Loyalty, determination, and devotion.
“How are you?” she said softly.
Hadrian leaned on his arms and gazed into the darkness. “I guess we’ll have an eventful year.”
That earned him a snort. “At least you won’t have a boring year before graduating.” A wicked smile gleamed in her clear eyes. ‘’It was quite the show. You gave our esteemed guests a night to remember.”
Hadrian sighed. “They were the last thing I had in mind.”
Her hand was so close to his he could feel its warmth. As if sensing his scrutiny, she looked down, and a faint blush spread over her face. He felt it again—the strange compulsion he’d experienced when he saved her from the Death Eaters. The inability to let her walk away. The need to keep her close.
He dragged his fingers through his hair, trying to fight the urge, to calm the sudden restlessness teeming inside him. Maybe it was due to the lack of sleep or…
He froze when she reached up and gripped his hand, not looking at him, colour still high on her cheeks.
When he didn’t say a thing, she finally lifted her chin and tilted her face slightly up toward him. Her eyes stared into his from beneath her dark, half-lowered lashes and wisps of pale hair that had fallen over her face. It was as if she was waiting for him. Waiting for something. From him. Instinctively, he reached out and swept the silky locks away, then caressed the satin-like skin of her cheek with the tips of his fingers.
Hadrian lowered his head, his forehead brushing hers ever so lightly. He had been naught but a fool. A gullible fool. Sirius would have a field day if he ever knew how oblivious he’d been.
Like his father and grandfather before, he was a Potter by blood. He knew deep within that, like his forefathers, he would love but once. It was every Potter’s destiny to fall instantly, irrevocably, irrationally in love and lose their hearts for always.
“Daphne….” He said hoarsely. “What are we doing?”
“I want you to trust me.’’ Her iridescent eyes pierced him expectantly. ‘’I want to share your burden.”
“You don’t have to.’’ The Quidditch-roughened pads of his fingers cupped her chin. “You’re dealing with so much as it is.”
Her eyes darkened with resolution and a faint smile lifted his lips. “What if I want to?”
“Then I’ll have no choice but to take whatever you offer.” The sensations were so strong—so palpable—he could feel the Potter Magic raging with need.
No matter how strong he was, he was helpless against the onslaught. He cradled her against him and molded her body to his gently, savouring the exquisite sensation of her in his arms.
He wasn’t a novice. Far from it. But never before had his magic reacted so strongly to a witch.
“Be warned, though,” he said against her lips. “Once I take your hand, I will never let it go.”
She inhaled and closed her eyes, giving him a silent answer. At the first touch of her lips, he felt as though he’d been slammed in the chest with a Bludger. The hard shock of sensation washed over him, filling him with an intense yearning.
It felt so…right.
It was so right.
“I think this tournament would provide a good incentive for me to train harder,” Henry observed calmly, then gasped when Hermione stepped on his foot.
“This is not the right time for you to make jokes,” she said, narrowing her eyes furiously at him. “They brought Dragons, bloody Dragons to Hogwarts! You have to fight a bloody Dragon!”
“Er…are you cursing?” He snickered, his fingers moving through the wild locks of his hair.
“I’m tempted to curse you to oblivion,” she huffed, then snuggled closer, making sure the Invisibility Cloak hid them from prying eyes. He tried to drap his arm around her shaking shoulders. However, she stubbornly tugged free of his hold and glared at him.
“Why are you mad at me?” he sighed. “It isn't like I brought the Dragons or chose which Creature I have to fight.”
“You could’ve refused to participate,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest.
“You know I couldn’t. The contract is binding,” he tried—and by the look in her eyes failed to sound regretful.
“You are playing with fire.” Her shoulders sagged in defeat. “You know I‘ll support you unconditionally, even though it’s hard to stop myself from hexing you at times. “
Unable to hide his smirk, he pulled her against him and kissed the top of her head. He was a head taller than her now, which gave him no small amount of glee.
She blinked up at him so innocently, then looked away abruptly. He felt those little kitten claws digging into his chest again.
“Be careful,” she winced when the Hungarian Horntail let out a roar that made the ground shake under their feet, then bit her lower lip as Hagrid lowered his head on Madame Maxime’s shoulder.
“I’d rather fight a Dragon than spend another minute watching these two doing Merlin knows what,” he shuddered.
“You must be careful with what you wish for.” She pinched him on the side, but he heard the fear in her voice.
“Aw, shouldn’t you comfort me instead of abusing my poor body?” he pouted while his lips feathered over her forehead. “Even Ron and Neville, traitors that they are, have abandoned me.”
“They did not abandon you,” she rolled her eyes. “Ron has a detention with Snape and Neville is working on an extra assignment with Professor Sprout. He knows he has to work harder and show dedication if he wants to apprentice under her once he graduates.”
“At least you are here,” Henry said cheerfully.
Truth to be told, he was nervous. Harry asked him to take a look at the Dragons once he found out about them courtesy of Cassius.
Once he put the Invisibility Cloak over their heads and followed Hagrid and Madame Maxime, he braced himself for the fear that would come on the occasion when someone caught a glimpse of a Dragon. Even Harry looked worried when he relayed the news.
Only it didn’t.
For years, he’d tried to pretend he wasn’t different. He’d tried to explain. Tried to make everyone understand that he was not the Hero they thought him to be. However, as he took his training seriously, Henry noticed that his senses were sharper, his awareness was higher than that of his peers, his skill at observation and perception was keener, but that was not all. His Magical Core was bottomless. He felt the surge of power whenever he pushed himself beyond what his growing body could take. His magic had never failed him. It was always there for him; ready to do his bidding as long as he remained focused and determined.
He understood that he was indeed different. He knew now. He’d been blessed with the Potter Battle Magic … and something more he could not name yet.
It was that coldness that cloaked him whenever he thought he couldn’t take any more, whenever he wanted to give up and just surrender.
Strangely, that coldness did not bother him. It felt so familiar, like something he’d always known but had lost for years.
He shook his head, refocusing on the scene unfolding in front of him, then gagged.
“Maybe we should leave,” Hermione said demurely. She was trying hard not to giggle. However, her expressive eyes betrayed her.
“Yes. I should probably start looking for ways to subdue a Dragon.” He took her hand and started dragging her away.
“I’ll help you,” she said, lifting her chin, her eyes sparking dangerously. “Don’t forget that you’ll be competing against Wixen with a Mature Core.”
“But ‘Mione,” he winked. “I seldom play fair.” He smirked when her eyes widened. “It’s easier to play Death’s game again. It seems he has no intention of having me yet.”
Hermione gasped at his outrageous statement, but he was rather occupied. He swore he heard a faint cackle in the distance.