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No wonder they're so stupid, he thinks to himself scathingly.
He pulls a book off one of the shelves in a shadowed corner of the library. What Hadrian doesn't realise is that there are wards upon those shelves. What he also doesn't realise is that these wards only allow those who possess a dark or at least a dark leaning core to view them. Sirius Black certainly isn't the Potter family's only connection with the dark after all. Dorea Black married Harry's great-great uncle Charlus Potter, though of course, the young wizard who is handling the book oh, so gently and almost reverently isn't aware of this fact currently. James is very careful not to mention the family's dark ties lest people think that he himself may be dark.
Harry opens the book he chose and, just like that, his education in the dark has begun.
Hi, this isn't a new chapter so quickly but a quick update before I start on it in earnest. I'm going back and editing the first few chapters, adding more detail, correcting spelling errors, etc. I've already done the first chapter and my goal is to try and lengthen my chapters without changing them drastically. I'm simply adding more detail on environment, character feelings etc. I'm not adding a new chapter until I've done this but I'll keep you all updated. This chapter will be deleted once I've done that but be aware that a few elements of this story may be changed. Edit:28/06/19 chapter two has been updated and changed slightly. Edit:22/07/19, chapter 3 has been edited so there's more information about what happened with Sirius and Remus Edit:18/09/19, edited chapter 4 a little. Didn't edit it that much, mostly changed sentence structures.
Edit:23 February 2020, finally got round to editing chapter 5. Added a few more details, reworded a few things. Sorry it's taken me so long! I started university and I've been super busy. I'm going to try and have the next chapter out in the next month or so but no promises!
The bookshelves Harry found in the back of the Potter library became the small boy’s personal sanctuary. They are stuffed with books on various topics, from objective books on dark creatures, to what Harry understands are very dark curses that would most likely result in a lengthy sentence in Azkaban prison.
Currently, Harry is reading one of these books, fascinated by the vivid descriptions and detailed illustrations of the effects of the curses within. There are some that seem relatively harmless, for example, there is a curse that will give the victim nightmares of their worst fears every time they fall asleep. This continues until the caster, or someone who figured out what the curse is, uses the counter-curse. Then, there are brutal ones. Curses that are designed to torture the victim in the most painful ways possible. To exert power over those the caster deems lesser than them.
One such curse slowly flays the victim. Removing their skin little by little until they either bleed out of the caster grows tired of their screams. The description of this curse is accompanied by a highly detailed moving illustration that displays the curse doing its work.
Harry can't help but wonder what it would be like to use this curse on someone. Perhaps on James. He snorts and shakes his head, he hates James yes, but he would never put anyone through this kind of torture. Not unless he truly believed they deserved it. To torture James that way would make Harry no better than him.
He turns his attention to the self-updating book on wizarding heritage that he’d found. Such a book is very rare and quite expensive so he’s incredibly careful with it. Hadrian has been reading it to try and find any relatives he may have on the darker side of the magical community in the hope that they may be able to help him, or at least make him feel like he’s not so alone. He follows along the family tree that is stamped across the pages in front of him. He finds what he’s looking for and allows a small smile to appear on his usually sombre face. Narcissa Malfoy, previously Black. Related to him through Dorea Black and so a cousin of moderate distance. It appears he has a letter to write.
Harry stands up from the small table and stretches, returning the books to their respective places on the shelves. He walks out of the library and makes his way towards his room. He doesn't reach it. Ethan, his ever so living twin, barrels into his side, knocking the air from his lungs and making him fall to the floor with a wheeze as he tries to regain his breath.
"Watch where you're going freak," Ethan says in a spiteful tone that only children can express effectively, "you might infect me with your freakishness," he stamps hard on Harry's wrist, there's a snap and he laughs and walks away down the hall. Children, Harry muses, can be really rather vindictive. He huffs a sigh, look at him, thinking as if he is not a child himself.
Harry pushes himself up with his uninjured arm, hissing slightly through his teeth when he jostles his most-likely broken wrist. He walks quickly to his room, wrist cradled to his chest to avoid jostling it further. Once inside he goes to his bathroom and quickly rummages through the healing supplies that are stored there. The house elves may be forbidden to obey him but they still look after him in their own way.
He lets out a sound of triumph when he pulls a bottle of Skelegrow from the cabinet. Quickly reading the instructions on the label he pours the correct amount into a glass and drinks it quickly, grimacing at the horrid taste on his tongue.
Rinsing the glass, Harry refills it with water to try and remove the foul taste of the unfortunately necessary potion from his mouth. Once done he re-enters his cupboard like room, moving over to the tiny desk and pulling out a small journal. Thankfully it was his left wrist that was injured, and he can still write. He quickly produces a quill and ink before writing about his discoveries that day. The writing a juxtaposition, intricate notes on torture in a messy, child like scrawl. Harry is a child after all, a broken, intelligent child, but a child nonetheless. It's evident in not only his looks, but in certain tells, the way he writes, holding the quill in an uncertain way. The ever so slight stutter when he talks, despite his impressive vocabulary. Yes, Harry is a child, but he's a brilliant one. But even brilliant people have their downfalls.
He pushes his journal aside when finished and grabs some parchment so he can write his letter. He sits for a while, unsure how to start. He doesn’t think "hello, I’m Hadrian, twin of the boy who lived who is a huge bully just like our father," would cut it. He sits, tapping the quill against his lip, then begins to write.
Narcissa Malfoy, formerly Black, does not consider herself a bad person. Nor does she consider her husband to be, for all that they had aligned themselves with the Dark Lord during the war. Both she and her husband hold a certain distaste for muggleborns and their ilk, but they certainly do not want to slaughter them all like the so called "light’ side decreed anyone who wasn’t on their side wanted to do. Not only is it an unrealistic thing to want but it would also expose the whole wizarding world to the muggle populous. All the majority of wizards and witches want is to live separately from muggles and to be able to practise their ancient, and traditional, celebrations and rituals in peace.
This, however, is difficult when muggleborns enter their world with no knowledge and a firm belief in their own religions. Many have no desire to learn the history of the world they are a part of and brand the things they don’t understand as "dark, evil, and dangerous." She would not mourn if these sorts of people did die but she would not be the one to facilitate their deaths. Indeed, in the war she acted as a battlefield medic, patching up those who needed help,usually no matter what side of the war they were on. Though, she made sure those who were "light" were unconscious when she helped them. So no, Narcissa feels that she isn’t a bad person.
When a letter arrives via a rather bedraggled looking owl when she’s tucking her son, Draco, into bed one evening her curiosity is somewhat piqued. She does not often receive post, what with one of her sisters being no longer on speaking terms and one in Azkaban prison. She makes sure Draco is settled before taking it to the family lounge. Cautiously she casts several diagnostic charms upon the parchment to make sure that no nasty curses lie upon the innocuous page. It wouldn’t be the first time after Lucius’ claim of acting under the imperius curse that someone had decided to take the law into their own hands. Those attempts had dwindled through the years however, with a slight spike around all hallows eve. Finding no nefarious charms or hexes upon the letter she carefully breaks the plain wax seal holding it closed.
Within the folded parchment she sees messy handwriting, though not the kind that is from an adult with little care. No, this is a child’s unpractised scrawl. The kind where they are doing their very best to be neat and tidy but still manage to drop blots of ink here and there and have slightly uneven letters. A slight frown twitches upon her brow, why would a child be writing to her?
Dear Lady Malfoy,
the letter reads.
My Name is Hadrian Potter-
she stops at this. Who is Hadrian Potter? She knows of James and Ethan, but a Hadrian? She searches her memory for any mention of another male Potter, then it dawns upon her. An announcement from when the war had ended. That Ethan Potter had defeated the Dark Lord and both he, and his twin, Hadrian, had survived the attack. So this child writing to her is the twin of the so-called boy-who-lived? She immediately wants to discard the letter, however, something stays her hand and she continues reading.
My name is Hadrian Potter and I recently discovered that we are related through Dorea Potter, formerly of the house Black. I am writing this letter to see if there is at least one member of my family who will like me.
She pauses in her reading. A member of his family who will like him? Whatever does that mean?
Continuing, Narcissa feels an amounting horror of what this child outlines in his letter. She has no doubts that what he says is true. The contents of the letter are far too detailed to be attention seeking lies. It seems that James Potter isn’t as good as he seems after all. A certain level of smugness settles upon her at that but is quickly quashed. No, James Potter is most certainly not a good person. She would even go as far to say that he is truly evil to near torture a child who cannot defend them self.
Narcissa Malfoy is not a bad person, but James Potter certainly is, and she will do everything within her power to help the child he has forsaken. She stands from the seat she had taken, her hands trembling minutely, and heads to Lucius’ study. She must enlist his help in this matter. She knows that none will believe them should she release this information, and it would most likely make things worse for the boy, but she will not sit idly by whilst a magical child is harmed in this way.
And so, Hadrian Potter has gained his first ally.
Hadrian is distracted the entirety of the following day after he sends that letter. What if she doesn’t reply? What if she does but doesn’t believe him? Worse still, what if she shows James? Worse and worse scenarios run through his mind and he can barely focus on his reading.
Tucked where he is in the corner of the library he can see three windows and he glances up every five minutes, looking for an owl. He knows that he had specified in the letter he sent not to reply until it was dark but a part of him expects Lady Malfoy not to listen to the request. He’s the second child of a house that for all intents and purposes is an enemy of her own, he’s nobody important and so why should she listen to his childish request? If she doesn’t however, the likelihood of James seeing the letter increases tenfold,as all the parts of the house he frequents face in the general direction of the quidditch pitch.
He’s tugged from his fretting by the entrance of Lily into the library. She doesn’t see him, though that isn’t new. Lily doesn’t seem to see Hadrian even when he’s stood in front of her. Her eyes are glazed slightly, she’s forgone makeup revealing how pale and tired she seems. A small spark of worry wiggles in Harry’s chest before he snuffs it out, it’s not his concern. She hasn’t cared for him in years so why should he offer her the courtesy? Shaking his head he focuses back on his book, it’s a simple tome on the topic of the preparation of potions ingredients, the one part of his study that he feels he’s weak on as he can’t exactly practise. That doesn’t mean it's exactly an exciting read, honestly, the book is rather dull, but he consumes it just as voraciously as the somewhat darker books he frequents in the part of the library only he seems to see.
The seat next to him moves and he looks back up, Lily sits in it and studies him, her eyes are clear all of a sudden. Green eyes, so similar to his own hone in on a bruise on his cheekbone and he feels the need to hide away, so he ducks his face, ashamed, though he cannot discern a reason as to why he feels as such. A hand touches his cheek, tender, though he flinches away almost violently, he hasn’t felt a gentle touch from any except the house elves in years. Looking up again he sees an intense sorrow in his mother’s gaze before they suddenly go vacant again and she looks exhausted. He hesitates, her hand is still raised,
"Mum?" the boy questions carefully, his first utterance of the word in a few years. She blinks slowly at him before rising, drifting away as if nothing had happened.
Harry slumps in his seat like a puppet with its strings cut. That experience shook him to his core. He doesn’t understand what happened. It was like she actually saw him, like she cared.He sets the book aside, he doesn’t think he can carry on reading today, not after that. He lightly touches his cheek where she had and releases a shaky sigh,
"What do I do?" he whispers to himself, rising from the seat and beginning to head back to his room. Something is clearly wrong with Lily Potter, not that he can tell anyone, they wouldn’t believe him. He tries to push thoughts of the incident aside, it’s best not to worry over things that he cannot control.
Once he’s arrived at his room he decides to note down the incident in his journal. Doing so will help him put it from his mind for now. Once done, he wipes down the nib of his quill and screws the lid back on to his most precious resource, ink. Something he has to carefully pilfer when James isn’t in his office replying to whatever letters the father of the Boy-Who-Lived must reply to. Stowing it away he stands and stretches, a nap may be in order.
Slipping between the sheets of his somewhat uncomfortable bed, he reflects upon the gentle touch, and the concern in bright green eyes.
Hadrian startles awake. His room is dark though he knows that it was light when he fell asleep; he must have slept longer than he intended. He can’t immediately tell what had awoken him, but then he hears a sharp tapping upon his window. Throwing the drapes wide he spies a rather disgruntled but regal looking owl sat on the windowsill the other side of the glass. He fumbles with the window latch before managing to open it and the owl swoops into his room,alighting upon his small desk and scattering a few loose papers. It hoots at him in disdain before holding its leg out. Attached is an envelope with the Malfoy seal pressed into silver wax. Carefully, the boy takes it and the owl hoots at him once more before swooping out of the still open window and into the night.
Harry looks down at the letter in his hand. The parchment is fine, far more fine than any he owns. Sitting at his desk he looks down at it with trepidation. Handling it carefully, as if it’s going to bite him he slides a finger behind the seal, breaking it, and begins to read. A spark of hope flickers in his chest. The very first thing the Lady Malfoy says is an assurance that she believes him and those written words lift a weight from his shoulders that he had been barely aware of.
He reads the rest of the letter quickly, and then again a second time but slower, so he can understand what she has written more thoroughly. Within, she outlines a plan, and a goal for him, though that goal is 3 years in the future. She tells him to document what he can and to avoid James if at all possible. His current goal is to get a blood test at Gringotts when he’s eleven to find out if he’s entitled to any heirships over Ethan, and then see if he can live with any relatives of the line he inherits. A hopeful plan, but for now the most sound one that they have. In the meantime the Lord and Lady Malfoy shall correspond as
often as possible and send books on proper pureblood etiquette and customs.
Hadrian releases a breath he didn’t realise he was holding. He finally has hope of escaping this personal hell, he just needs to hold on for three more years. A genuine smile graces his face for the first time since Sirius and Remus stopped visiting. He finally has
Hey everyone, it's been a while and I wish this could be a more positive update but unfortunately I won't be continuing this fic. Harry Potter was a big part of my childhood and the first fics I ever read were in this fandom but my love of the series is completely gone. I can't in good conscious continue to create works for something that is so full of poor stereotypes from a original creator who so firmly goes against my community and who's words are being used to infringe upon the rights of others.
Any love I had for Harry Potter as a series is gone. This fic is staying up but it's being orphaned. Thank you to everyone who's supported it over the years, its been a good run.
So long - Night

Sunday, September 1st, 2013
Fifteen years after the Battle for Hogwarts
Draco stood on platform 9-3/4 getting ready to send Scorpius off to Hogwarts for the first time. He was dreading it. He was afraid for Scorpius, afraid that the mistakes of his past would haunt his son as well, afraid of the labels and prejudices that would be given to Scorpius for being his son and a Malfoy. He would miss him being gone too. His home would be lonely without Scorpius.
"You're going to have to be strong this year. People will make assumptions about you because of me and I'm sorry about that. Just be yourself though and the people worth knowing will see the good kid you are and not just the son of Draco Malfoy," Draco stood facing his son with his hands on his shoulders. His son looked so much like himself at that age, same slick back, white blond hair, same gray eyes and pale skin.
"Dad, I'll be fine and there's nothing wrong with being your son. You're a great dad to me and the people who can't let the past go, can sod off," Scorpius said defiantly.
"Language, son. If you need anything, write and let me know. Write even if you don't need anything. I want to know how you're doing."
The whistle blew and the crowded platform became chaotic as children rushed to board and load their trunks. Families were gathered around the train saying goodbye, children were leaning out open windows. It was time to let him go.
"Time to go, son. I love you. Be strong, study hard, and make good friends," Draco said as he pulled Scorpius in for one last hug.
"I love you too, dad. I'll make you proud."
"You already do, mate."
Scorpius broke away and climbed onto the train. He looked behind him one last time and waved before he disappeared. Theo and Daphne came up to him. Theo clapped a hand on his shoulder.
"You okay?" Theo asked.
"Yeah. I'm just worried about how he'll be treated."
"He'll be fine. You raised a good kid. Drake is there, so are the other Baby Snakes," Theo chuckled a little at their nickname for their group of children.
"Come over for dinner tonight, Draco," Daphne offered, "Spinner's End will be too quiet."
"Not tonight Daphne, but thank you. I'll be fine. It will just take some getting used to."
Draco looked out over the sea of families watching the train depart. He saw Harry up ahead, facing him talking to Weasley and her. He nodded a greeting to Harry when their gazes met. He and Harry had made their peace years ago. The Golden Trio had spoken up for him and his mother during their trial. It had kept them both out of Azkaban. Harry had even apologized for not being able to help his father too, but they had both known there was no helping his father.
She was there. Her back was to him and she was leaning on Weasley, but she was the closest to him that she'd been in ages. He'd watched her over the years as she walked by him at the Ministry or Diagon Alley. They had never shared more than a "Hello" in passing. She was happy with Weasley and he only existed as a part of their shared past.
She had no idea of his feelings for her, had never had any idea. He had been horrid to her in school, spouting that pureblood crap that his father fed him growing up, not really understanding the prejudice he had thrown at her feet. He had only been twelve and those ideals had been ingrained in him his whole life. By the time he had understood, it had been too late. She had despised him and he couldn't find a way to repair the damage.
He had been cast adrift in a world ruled by hate. He'd had to make impossible choices to save his mother. Choices he struggled and railed against. He had tried to find the light, to be what she deserved, but he couldn't abandon his family and kept getting pulled back to the dark. She had unknowingly ripped his world to shreds and he'd been left to find a way to rebuild it anew.
Being a father to Scorpius had given him a chance to be the man he wanted to be. He didn't want Scorpius to grow up the way he had. He wanted better for his son. He wanted to create a better world for his son to grow up in.
The train blew one final whistle and pulled out of the station. Draco stood watching his son being taken away, hoping that the year wouldn't be awful for him. Theo and Daphne said goodbye to him. He said goodbye distractedly to them still gazing at the train as it made its way around the bend and out of sight.
He was about to turn and go when he saw a little, red-haired boy break free from his harried mother and go barreling into Weasley screaming "Daddy." Hermione took a step away from Weasley, her back still to Draco. Harry looked shocked, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. The child was wrapped around Weasley's legs chattering away, completely oblivious to the adults around him.
The mother of the boy walked up with two other children, a young girl and a toddler boy, both red-haired. He was horrified to see that the plump, harried woman was Lavender Brown. She said something he couldn't hear to Weasley.
He heard Hermione screech "You bastard" loud enough for it to echo off the platform around them and break him out of his shock. He started forward and grabbed her around the waist just as she was about to launch herself at Weasley. He hauled her back and stood between her and Weasley.
She glared up at him. "Get out of my way, Malfoy. Did you come here to gloat?" She made to move past him but he put his hands on the tops of her arms, keeping her in place.
"No," he said quietly.
"No. You can't do this in front of the children. Your daughter is standing right there." He nodded over to where Rose was standing, half hidden behind Ginny, "Hermione, I know you're furious. I know he deserves whatever you planned on throwing at him, but you can't do it in front of your daughter."
"I hate it when you're right, Malfoy," she said angrily.
"I know, Hermione. Summon your Gryffindor courage, take your daughter's hand, and walk away with me right now."
"Why should I go anywhere with you?"
"You saved me once. Let me return the kindness."
"Fine." She took her daughter's hand. Weasley was pleading with her to let him explain, but she ignored him. He tried to make a grab for her but Draco stepped in front of him to block her.
He got up in Weasley's face. "Don't touch her," he ground out, low and dangerous, "I stopped her from hurting you for the sake of her daughter. I won't stop her again. I'll even help her next time."
He turned and walked over to Hermione and her daughter, touched them both on the shoulder, and disapparated them all to his home.
They materialized into the foyer of Spinner's End. "Where are we?" she asked as she took in her surroundings. The walls were cobalt and light gray striped. The floor, staircase, and entries leading to various parts of the house were all dark walnut.
"Spinner's End, my home," he said.
"You don't live at Malfoy Manor?"
"No. I'll explain later. Come on. Let's get some lunch. I think your daughter may be hungry."
He led them into the dining room. The room was done in a similar color scheme as the foyer, solid navy blue walls with silver vines climbing up the walls, walnut floors, gray leather chairs, and a lighter walnut table that looked like it could comfortably seat twenty. Large bay windows covered one wall and looked out onto the lawn. Plates and food were set waiting on the buffet along the other wall.
"Expecting company?" Hermione asked.
"No. Tansy must have seen us arrive," he responded.
"Who is Tansy?" Hermione asked.
"Welcome home, Master Draco. Did Master Scorpy get on the train okay?" the subject of her questions walked into the room.
"Hello Tansy. Yes, he's off to school now. Tansy, this is Hermione and her daughter, Rose," Draco said to Tansy.
"Hermione, Rose. This is Tansy." He introduced them to his house elf.
Tansy looked like many of her kind, large eyes, large bat-like ears and gray skin. Unlike other house elves, she was wearing a bright pink tutu, leotard, and ballet slippers instead of a dishrag.
"Hello, Tansy. It's nice to meet you," Hermione said.
"Hello Mistress Hermione and Miss Rose. May I help Miss Rose get her lunch?"
"It's just Hermione and Rose. No need for the miss and mistress..."
"Good luck with that," Draco snorted. He had tried for years to get her to stop calling him Master. She always looked at him, said "Yes Master," then kept doing as she wanted.
Hermione ignored him, "and yes, you can help Rose. Thank you."
Tansy led Rose over to the buffet. He heard Rose speak for the first time. "Are you a ballerina? I like ballerinas. They're pretty and can dance pretty," she said. Tansy filled a plate for Rose and herself and sat down at the table together, eating and chattering away.

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