He slipped out of the party as soon as he could without raising suspicion. He made his way down the hallway and ducked into the first alcove he came across. His hands were clenched and trembling as anger surged inside him.
A listening charm.
A fucking listening charm.
How had he not seen this coming? How had he been so blind?
It was such an underhanded tactic, something only someone deceitful and two-faced would do. It was precisely the sort of move he should have expected from the Dark Lord. It was the sort of move he would have pulled if the positions were reversed.
And it was that fact that had him fluctuating between begrudgingly impressed and downright pissed off.
Right now, though, the rage was winning.
Hadrian took a steadying breath and leaned his head back against the wall. He had to fix this. He had no idea if the slip had been intentional or not, but now that he knew of it, there was no way he could simply sit and allow his biggest threat to listen in on his conversations.
There were advantages to this, of course. He could lay false information, use this to twist Voldemort's knowledge of him anyway it suited him. But to do that he would have to know, at all times, when the charm was activated. He would have to spend every minute of every day meticulously planning everything he said, just on the off chance the Dark Lord was listening in.
Hadrian was good, but he doubted he could keep that up for such an extended period of time. He would make a mistake eventually, if he spent all his time carefully evaluating every word that passed his lips; and with the added pressure of the tournament creeping ever closer, he could not afford to have another distraction tugging at him.
No. It would be easier to eliminate this factor. And it had the added bonus of showing Voldemort that he was not a silly little student. The man would know instantly that Hadrian had figured out and countered his charm the next time he tried to spy on him, but he could hardly kick up a fuss about it, lest he draw attention to the very illegal thing he was doing.
The French Ministry would splutter with outrage if they knew the rights of one of their own were being violated.
Dark Lord he may be, but Voldemort did not have the same political backing outside of Britain. If the man was so desperate to open up international communications, he would be unable to say anything, unless he wanted to sabotage his own efforts.
Hadrian liked the idea of that. How many people could claim to have one-upped the Dark Lord himself?
His heart rate settled as his mind began working, soothed with the knowledge that he might be able to shatter even one of Voldemort's little schemes.
To do that though, he had to get back to his room, where he could consult his books and figure this out.
Hadrian slipped out of the alcove, ruffling his hair and started to turn.
"Hadrian."
He paused, turning half-about before stopping as the voice registered. The pit in his stomach deepened and uprooted his previous excited buzz, and he narrowed his eyes as he locked onto the man in front of him.
Éric had his hands loosely at his sides, and his stance was entirely non-threatening. It meant little though. Hadrian knew that Éric was a master at keeping his composure, years of dancing and playing with the man taught him that. The man trying to not actively be intimidating just proved he was not going to like this conversation.
"Lord Korin," he started neutrally. "may I ask why you are here, rather than with the others?" As if they both did not already know, Hadrian merely hoped he was mistaken because he was not in the mood.
Éric watched him closely, brown eyes never straying from his face. There was a pause between them, before the man nodded once sharply. "There is much I wanted to discuss with you, Hadrian. When I noticed you leave I knew now was as good a time as any. How are you faring?"
Hadrian scanned the man from the toes of his polished boots to the tips of his hair. He shrugged, "As well as I can be, I suppose." He offered casually, trusting that Éric would understand the meaning behind his non-answer.
The man's lips twitched briefly, in the same half-amused way they always tended to do when Hadrian was around. "And your preparations for the first task? I had heard it was against a manticore?"
He inclined his head, confirming the statement. "Work in progress."
"And your mother, is she well?"
Hadrian rolled his eyes, uncrossing his arms and gesturing for the man to follow him. "Lord Korin, it's been a long day, and I have a lot on my mind recently. Why don't we go somewhere more private so we can skip the pleasantries and get to why you are really here."
Éric nodded in agreement, and together they walked further down the darkened hallway, away from the faint noise of the ongoing party, and lessening the chances of someone stumbling across them and overhearing something they had no business knowing. With a faint scowl, Hadrian glanced down at his bracelet, and was pleased to note that the eyes were not glowing. If his theory was correct, that meant there was no unwanted third person hovering.
Hadrian selected a classroom at random, pulling it open and letting Éric enter first. It was not a room he was familiar with, but in a castle this size it was no surprise. Hadrian doubted that he had even been in every room at Beauxbatons.
The thought of his school brought a wave of serenity to him. Hogwarts was magnificent, and a part of him desperately wished that he had had the chance to come here, to experience all the wonders of this ancient building, to walk the same hallways his parents did before him.
But Beauxbatons was, and always would be his home. Nothing could ever sever the connection he felt with the mountain-carved academy.
Hadrian walked deeper into the room, passing Éric and whipping around to face him when there was a good two metres between them. His eyes bored into the politician's, bypassing the typical cat-and-mouse routine they had. "You are here about my falling out with Jacob, yes?"
At once, all traces of politeness dropped from Éric's face, and something very much like frustration took over his strong features. "'Falling out' is a rather weak way of putting it, from what my son has told me."
Though he did not show it, a trickle of discomfort hit Hadrian. If Jacob had let slip to his father the reason behind their fight, this could go bad very quickly. He had to discern just how much Jacob had revealed when he told his father of what happened between them.
"Yes, well, Jacob has been saying and doing an awful lot of things lately." The bitterness in his words was not feigned or manipulated in the least, and Éric's eyes narrowed at his tone. "I would have thought you would be pleased we are no longer speaking. You always were annoyed over our friendship."
"I was more annoyed over the fact that my only son and heir allowed himself to be lead around by his nose by a -" Éric cut himself off abruptly, and Hadrian smiled viciously.
"By a - what, Lord Korin? A mudblood? A no-name? Do complete your sentence, I am waiting with baited breath."
"By someone who is more foe than friend."
His pride flared, stung. "Excuse me?" He spat, "A 'foe'? When have I ever acted in a manner that threatened you or yours?" He stepped closer, voice dropping to a hiss. "Jacob was someone I trusted, someone I cared for, and I treated him as such. I never once encouraged any recklessness. I helped him whenever he got in trouble. And you dare stand there and accuse me of being an enemy?"
"You were an unknown variable," where Hadrian was furious, Éric was unnervingly calm. "I did not trust you. I did not know what your motives or goals were, and it made me uneasy to have you around my son, influencing him. Surely it did not escape your notice how easily he succumbed to your whims? How readily he looked to you for guidance or advice or direction?"
Éric tilted his head down at him, "You had a dangerous amount of his loyalty."
"Then perhaps you should be speaking to him about that. It sounds more like his flaw than mine."
The man sighed, a hint of annoyance creeping into his words. "If you would let me finish, before you spoke, this would be far less painful for the both of us." Hadrian, still stewing over Éric's earlier remark, bowed mockingly, gesturing for Éric to speak. The man did so, with a twist to his mouth.
"I did not approve of the power you held in your friendship, in fact, if I had my way, Jacob would never have let your relationship progress beyond casual acquaintances. You were - are - dangerous. You have always been ahead of your classmates - unnervingly so, and the years have done nothing to stop your growth. I looked into your eyes and saw you as someone who was not above using others to get what you wanted. You are the type of person to let those around you crash and burn if they are in your way."
Éric glanced away from him for a moment, face like stone.
"I was not willing to let my child be a tool for you to exploit for your own purposes, I did not want to see him broken and tossed aside if you ever grew bored of him. But the more I pulled Jacob away, the more he sought you out. By trying to distance you, I inadvertently acted as the catalyst for the very thing I was aiming to prevent. Before I even knew it, he was so far under your thrall there was little I could do but sit back and watch."
A tinge of pain bloomed in the man's eyes.
"So no, I did not agree with your friendship, but I could also not deny that due to your company, Jacob flourished in a way I could never have predicted."
Hadrian blinked at the shift.
"He has become much more confident, and has learned to control his emotions better. He is more cunning and chooses his words with more care. I believe, in large, that that is thanks to you. The example you set for him - while not one I would have chosen - allowed for Jacob to hone his own innate skills and begin to develop other qualities that can only help him in the future."
Hadrian glanced away when Éric attempted to caught his eyes. He clenched his jaw and stayed silent.
"Jacob cares for you, far more than is appropriate, and certainly more than I agree with. But he had reached an age where my word is no longer the law for him. And that is why I am here."
He finally looked up at the politician, curious despite himself. "I do not know what occurred to create this rift between the two of you, and at this point, I would rather not be told." Hadrian narrowed his eyes.
Does he know, about Jacob and I? Does he know just what our relationship entailed?
It did not bother Hadrian if Éric had figured out that the two of them had slept together on more than one occasion, though he was intrigued to know what Éric's reaction would have been. Homosexual relationships were not frowned upon in the Wizarding World, but there were still a select few that would not stand for the idea.
His words made it clear that any interactions between Hadrian and his son had him wary. But he had also just admitted that Hadrian had helped Jacob's growth.
Personally, he did not see it. Jacob would have developed those skills eventually, with or without Hadrian beside him. He might have assisted, in the same way friends often helped support each other. But to credit it all to Hadrian? Ridiculous.
"I am here to help you fix it."
Hadrian dropped his defensive posture and laughed sharply, unable to help himself. "There will be no 'fixing it', Lord Korin. I do not know what Jacob told you about what happened, but he seems to have left out the very important fact that he betrayed me. This is not some spat between rowdy children that requires adult intervention. This is the case of someone that I put my faith in failing to meet it."
"Do you really wish to go to your death with this?"
A chill seeped into Hadrian's chest at the words. He was so used to everyone avoiding the topic, that to hear to addressed so plainly was startling. "I do not intend to die, Lord Korin."
The smile the man levelled at him was as dangerous as a viper. "Very few do, Hadrian. My point still stands. Would you like to die knowing that you and Jacob would never have had the chance to repair your bond? Would you like to die knowing that one of your closest friends would be forever haunted by a simple mistake?"
"You assume I want to be friends with Jacob again."
Hadrian knew what he was doing. Éric might not approve of their relationship, but the man knew that for all the control Hadrian exhibited over Jacob, the two of them were good together. Hadrian dying in the tournament would undoubtedly ruin Jacob beyond belief, seeing as it was he who nominated him in the first place. A morbid part of him wondered if the other boy would feel like a murderer if that came to pass.
Even though he did not know the whole story, Éric was trying to stop his son's pain before it happened, or at least lessen it in a way that would not crush Jacob.
"You do." Éric said with all the assurance of the Gods. "Because you would not be this angered if he did not mean something to you. And no matter what they do to us, no matter how we may wish otherwise as times, the ones that mean something to us are always the ones we long for the most."
He knew Éric was referring to his late wife from the way he reverently touched his wedding ring. Hadrian's mind was reluctantly reminded of the look in his mother's eyes whenever she spoke of her father. It was the gleam of what if and if only.
"I can't." He shook his head as he spoke, slowly and deliberately. "I cannot forgive him for what he did. One day, maybe, but not yet. If Jacob and I are meant to be friends, then that is where we will end up. As for right now? I have no real desire to reconnect with him."
Éric sighed again, though not in an aggravated manner. The expression on his face said that he had expected this answer. "I just pray that you make the right decision before the day comes where you no longer have the chance."
Hadrian did not reply. He looked away from the man and stared at the wall blankly. He was finished with this conversation. He wanted to leave. Without even glancing at the politician, Hadrian pivoted and made his way to the door.
"Whatever your decision regarding my son is, I wish you the best of luck for the upcoming trials Hadrian. This year will most likely be the hardest you ever endure. And I do not envy you."
Hadrian closed the door and walked away, chest both heavy and strangely light at the same time.
He followed the route back to the carriage, entering the comforting surroundings and making his way to his room. For a horrible moment he paused outside of his old room - Jacob's room. He dithered on the spot, Éric's words repeating softly in his mind.
He was just on the other side of this door. Likely sleeping – on his stomach because he preferred using his arms to cradle his head then rely on pillows – but he would wake if he knocked. Jacob was always a light sleeper.
His hand twitched as if to carry out the thought, but at the last second he dropped it and stepped back to remove the temptation.
He was allowed to be angry for however long he wanted dammit.
Hadrian quickly shot into his room and clicked the door shut. He took a breath and headed to his bookshelf, determined that before the night was done he would have a solution to this problem. He pulled the first book he saw on the cancellation of spells from its place and sat on the closest seat.
All thoughts of Jacob and Éric and the future shrivelled in the face of this new puzzle, to be explored at a much later time.
He mind was now torn between finding an answer, and worrying over what this latest revelation meant.
If Voldemort had been listening in on him, there was no telling what the man had heard over the weeks. Hadrian was positive that the listening charm was activated whenever the snake's eyes glowed, but he could hardly recall every instance when that had happened.
Definitely the first night he had worn it, and sporadically after that.
Meaning he would have heard his talk with his mother. As well as his confrontation with Jacob.
Fuck.
Had they said anything incriminating that night? Other than expressing disappointment at his naming, he could not remember what was said exactly. He was suddenly beyond grateful that his mother was so cautious about using his birth name only in their home. If she had called him 'Harry' during their conversation, it could have caused something.
The worst Voldemort would know was that Hadrian did not wish to be champion, and that in and of itself was not particularly damaging. Because as far as Hadrian was concerned, nobody in their right mind should want this.
Hadrian traced his fingers over the text intently.
The most effective defence against charms is to know the exact counter for the particular charm in question. Incorrect or weak counters allow for the possibility of the charm not be stopped completely, or to continue functioning unaffected.
He hummed lightly, snapping the book closed. His eyes roved over the shelf and he plucked two more books from their places. He flipped through them until he hit the desired section.
In regards to listening charms - of which there are many - the most common form of protection would be the imperturbable charm. This charm is most effective for blocking potential eavesdroppers when in a secluded room.
Hadrian skipped a few more pages. Soundproofing a room was all well and good, but he needed something that was applicable to his situation. He needed something that worked on objects. He scanned for more information, frowning as the author moved on from listening charms and into silencing spells.
Those had some merit.
Almost an hour flew passed before he eventually shut his books in frustration. He knew what he wanted to do, but it would be virtually impossible to use any of these spells on the listening charm installed on his bracelet.
If it were a standard charm, he would have no difficulty cancelling it; however, due to the charm being cast in Parseltongue, he would need to find a completely different way to go about this.
He closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair, letting his thoughts wander at their own pace.
He could try and find a way to speak Parseltongue, but he was not particularly interested in learning the snake language, and it would take far too much time.
There was no spell he could use that would successfully counteract it, though.
Hadrian sighed, curling forward and rubbing his eyes tiredly. He impatiently ripped off his tie and tossed it in the general direction of his bed, his blazer following moments later. With deft fingers he started unbuttoning his shirt, to give himself something to do while he thought.
He collapsed on his bed after his shirt was removed, letting his limbs sprawl inelegantly and closing his eyes as the day's events hit him.
He just wished there was a way he could solve all his problems, as if there was something to stop it all at once. Put himself in a little bubble and just get a few moments to himself without stress and fear weighing down on him.
The thought sparked, and with a cut off shout of excitement he sprung to his feet and moved to his bag. Hadrian dug through his belongings until he found his Ancient Runes textbook and pulled it free with a grin.
He quickly opened it to the page he needed, and reached to grab his kit.
Hadrian found the rune he was looking for and wasted no time in picking up the small ball-point tool and dipping it into the ink well. He moved the snake bracelet as high as he could, leaving his wrist bare.
Let's see you listen in now.
OoO
The next night, Hadrian stood smugly next to Draco, enjoying the warmth that spread through his chest with each sip of his drink. The rune on his wrist - hidden by the bracelet - sparked, and with glinting eyes he looked to see the snake's eyes flash red. He was almost giddy with his success.
He had taken a great risk - had acted completely reckless and stupid - last night after he had applied the rune, waiting until the listening charm was activated before saying two words that could have doomed everything. He had stayed awake for hours afterwards, waiting for any reaction, yet none had come.
He knew then that his plan had worked. Because if Voldemort had heard what he had said - what he had confessed - then there was no reason for the man to not come flying at him. Voldemort would have rained down on him like a thunderstorm and not stopped until he was dead at his feet, international status or not.
As the day dragged on, it merely reaffirmed Hadrian's belief that he had actually done it. He was still here, still breathing, and now free from Voldemort's charm.
He had been absolutely correct in his assumption that he would not be able to cancel the Parseltongue spell without knowing the language. But there was nothing stopping him from applying runes to himself to stop such charms from having an effect.
The tiny little line of tattoos on his inner wrist acted as a protective barrier, stopping any and all forms of spying charms from transmitting to their caster. They still activated, but nothing slipped passed the invisible bubble around him.
He was still reeling from his success that he did not even mind that he had been separated from his mother earlier this evening.
"You are awfully smug tonight," the Malfoy heir commented lightly, his own glass resting against his lips as mercury eyes watched the mass of politicians. "care to share?"
Hadrian grinned, "You can do better than that, Draco." He fluttered his eyes mockingly, "Besides, I can't just be excited for once?"
Draco returned his grin with something sharper. "In the time that I have known you, I have discovered that whenever you get that look on your face, it can never mean anything good for anyone but you."
He snorted in amusement, lightly knocking shoulders with the other. "You make me sound like a menace to society. I am as angelic as they come."
The look on the blond's face made it very clear what his thoughts on that comment were. Hadrian snickered into his drink, eyes drifting the lovely figure of his mother across the room.
She looked absolutely gorgeous. The simple green dress hugged her form and brought out her copied eye colour brilliantly. Her now-black hair was loose, falling over her shoulders and covering her partially bare back.
She was laughing with one of the French politicians, doing a splendid job of looking like she was enjoying herself.
"Your mother," Draco began, having followed Hadrian's gaze. "you look like her."
The observation made something almost nostalgic to spread through his heart. No, he thought, I look like my dad.
"I guess I do." Something in his tone clearly warned Draco off the subject, for he hummed lightly in silent acknowledgement and turned to a different topic.
"You have figured out the first task, then?"
Intrigued that this is what he went with, Hadrian locked eyes with the taller boy. There was nothing dubious on his face, and his emotions were projecting nothing but curiosity. So Hadrian nodded.
Immediately, Draco shifted closer and dropped his voice. "Which are you then? What did you get?"
"What do you mean?" He frowned, not understanding the question.
"I mean – what creature did you get? My father would not tell me what the other options were, saying I did not need it to distract me."
He felt uneasy. "What creature did you get?" He asked instead. With a huff, and a roll of his eyes, Draco answered.
"Hungarian Horntail, you?"
Different creatures. They gave us different creatures...Sweet Circe, why?
"Manticore," he replied, a little hoarse. He cleared his throat absently. "I got a manticore."
Draco rocked back on his heels, eyes widening and a glimmer of concern entered his delicate features. Much like everyone else that had heard, he did not look particularly enthusiastic for Hadrian's chances. "Fuck," he whispered, "I'm sorry." And he truly did sound it.
Hadrian shrugged, recovering from his brief lapse of composure at the revelation that they were all going to be fighting different creatures.
He supposed it made sense, in a way. Not only would it add a new level of drama to the proceedings for the audience, it eliminated the chances of a ruined task if one of the first champions somehow managed to seriously wound, or even kill their creature.
It also made it significantly harder for them to seek help from their fellow champions, should they be so inclined. They would each have to come up with completely different strategies to combat the unique qualities of their chosen creature.
It did make him wonder though, how they were assigned their creatures.
I swear, if Voldemort was the one who picked which ones we fight -
The thought broke off suddenly, and he choked mid-drink. The burning alcohol went down the wrong pipe and he coughed into the crook of his elbow, eyes watering.
Draco looked at him, scandalised, and shifted away from him with a grimace. Luckily, no one else appeared to have noticed his fit.
Well, no one except the man currently speaking with his mother.
What the fuck is he doing?
"I'll be right back."
Without an explanation he left Draco's side and made his way over to his mother, gut churning but fingers twitching in what he dully noted was excitement.
Above his mother's head, Riddle's eyes jumped to lock onto him, a small smirk on his lips, before his attention dropped back to the woman.
OoO
Lily smiled and shook hands and made small talk with murderers. She half-expected her hands to be stained red every time she was released from another's grip.
Of course, not all of those present from Britain were Death Eaters - no, most were just prominent figures too afraid to act out against their dictator.
She could not help but view them with something akin to disappointment, even though she knew it was unfair. They should have done more to stop Voldemort, but at the same time, the self-preservation that made them submit was the exact same instinct that drove her to escape with Harry.
She could not fault them for doing the smart thing when she herself had done the exact same thing.
Being in Britain again, being at Hogwarts was enough to almost bring her to tears. It had been so long, so many years, and yet the same sensation of coming home was seeping into every inch of her.
She had taken some time earlier to simply wander around the castle, under a disillusionment charm.
Consequently, she had found herself sitting morosely in a particular nook on the fourth floor, knees to her chest and fingers running idly over the small carving in the stone. It was out of the way, hidden by the shadows where the light could not quite reach, and the sight of it had left her breathless with want.
JP & LE
She had cried then and there, remembering the day fondly. It was the last game of the year and Gryffindor had just slaughtered Ravenclaw.
James had all but dragged her off to celebrate by themselves, and while they had been kissing he had pulled away, boyish grin firmly in place and eyes shining in that way that made her heart pound.
"Watch this." He had whispered, aiming his wand at the wall and with a flash of light, their initials had been there, carved into the stone. Lily had slapped him for defacing the school wall, even though her chest soared at his actions.
It was like Hogwarts itself had approved of them being together, allowing the initials to stay exactly where they were.
"Now we've left our mark here, Lils. You and me, always, okay?"
He had said it like I love you. And Lily had believed him.
Seeing those letter, as fresh as the day they were created, had hurt her terribly. Because they were so young back then, so naïve and innocent. They had looked at each other and made a promise that transcended wedding vows.
But we weren't 'always', were we, James? Nothing ever lasts, not even love.
She missed his laugh and his jokes and the way he looked at her like she was the only thing worth seeing. She missed how he would throw Harry into the air at two in the morning just to replace his crying with squeals of laughter. She missed the weight of his hands on her body, and the press of his lips to her skin.
She just missed James so much.
Lily cast her eyes around the room for her son, having been separated from him nearly the moment they had entered.
She spotted him on the other side of the space, standing next to Draco Malfoy.
The two boys were standing close and whispering intently. Her lips thinned at the sight of their easy familiarity, disliking the thought of someone like Malfoy's spawn influencing her child.
She knew that as another champion, Harry was likely discussing the tournament with the other boy, but did he have to be so friendly?
"Mrs. Evans, I presume?"
Lily turned and found herself staring at a handsome wizard. He was older than her, that much she could tell in an instant, but all the sprinkles of white through his dark hair did was add an air of refinement to him that most younger men lacked.
His face had the barest traces of wrinkles, a timeless sort of beauty that made it difficult to pinpoint his exact age.
The polite smile on his face was entirely too charming, but it was the glint in his eyes that had her instincts blaring a warning.
She accepted his hand when he offered it and was not at all surprised when he bent to softly kiss the back of her palm.
"Tom Riddle, I teach Defence here at Hogwarts."
Ah.
Lily smiled back demurely. "It's a pleasure, professor."
The man dropped her hand, eyes drifting passed her head briefly before returning to her own. He looked amused.
"Forgive my forwardness, Mrs. Evans, but you look stunning this evening." Lily had heard that particular compliment many times throughout the night, but this was the first time it had sounded even remotely sincere. She opened her mouth to speak, however he carried on swiftly.
"It is easy to see who your son takes after."
That - she had not heard.
People had remarked on their likeness, but never in such an appreciative manner. Lily watched this man closely from under her lashes, stomach clenching uncomfortably. There was just something wrong about the other.
Nothing overt, or particularly note-worthy. But there was a lingering air about him that reminded her of her son; only much more...intense.
Whoever this man was, he was no mere professor. A Death Eater? Or perhaps someone in Voldemort's pocket? It was difficult to tell.
Regardless of who he was, Lily knew then and there that she had no desire to be around this man any longer than she had to be. And she certainly did not like the way he spoke of Harry.
"Thank you, professor." She said anyway, though in a distant manner that told anyone who could hear that she did not appreciate his company.
He merely watched her with a patient expression, taking a measured sip of his drink. He looked so...expectant, and that unnerved her.
What did he even want? Why was he speaking with her?
"Maman."
Lily tilted her head in Harry's direction, not willing to show her back to this man. Because of this, she was able to see the satisfaction that bled into his eyes at the arrival of her son.
She did not like this at all.
"Looking well rested I see."
Harry stepped up beside her, and - surprisingly - a small smirk appeared on his face. "You could say that. I did not expect you to be attending tonight, sir."
No, Lily reminded herself. This was not Harry right now. This was Hadrian.
Riddle hummed, leaning almost imperceptibly towards her son. "I had some spare time, in between grading and whatnot. You look as impeccable as always." He...teased? Lily's eyes rapidly flew between the two of them, mind piecing together what was happening in front of her.
The dangerous amusement on Riddle's face was mirrored on her son's, and Lily watched with morbid fascination as the boy took a step closer to Riddle. They had all but dismissed her from their attention completely, far more focussed on their words then on their surroundings.
It disturbed her, how easily Harry let himself be drawn into the man's sphere. She had always told him to be constantly aware of what was happening around him, to never let his guard down. And yet here he was, ignoring everything except the professor before them.
She needed to break whatever was occurring between them.
"I finished marking your assignment last night, quite remarkable, Hadrian."
Hadrian? Lily frowned at the casual use of her son's second name. As far as she saw it, no teacher would use a student's first name unless there was a sense of ease and comfort between the two. But even then, the way he said Harry's other name, like he was relishing it...
Her son did not seem to notice, he smiled up at the professor, though his eyes sparked. "Aren't I always?"
Lily had never heard him use such a flippant tone with an authority figure before. He was always courteous and respectful to adults; and while Riddle made her uncomfortable, he was still a teacher. She did not know what to make of either of them, especially as Riddle merely chuckled lowly at her son's comment, more delighted than anything.
"Indeed you are, Hadrian. Indeed you are."
Enough.
"Darling," she called softly, knot in her chest loosening when Hadrian fell away and Harry immediately broke eye contact with Riddle to turn his full attention on her.
He could not see the flash of annoyance that crossed the man's features, though she did. It merely cemented her desire to remove her son from this man's presence immediately. "I'm afraid I am not feeling my best, perhaps it is time for me to retire."
Harry, smart boy, did not outwardly react, though she could see the question swimming in his eyes. "Would you please go inform Minister Lécuyer that we will be departing."
He bobbed his head, "Of course, maman." His eyes briefly returned to Riddle, and nodded in goodbye. "'Till next time, professor." And then he was gone, to find Lécuyer and excuse them.
The moment he was gone, Lily found herself subjected to the intense scrutiny of those calculating blue eyes. She met the gaze fearlessly, words dancing on the tip of her tongue.
Demands to know just what this man thought he was doing with her child, to know what gave him the right to address Harry so informally, to act so comfortably around him.
She bit her questions back, offering the man a bland smile all the while projecting daggers with her eyes. "'Till next time, professor." She echoed her son's words as she spun and headed towards the exit, catching sight of Harry moving to intersect with her.
She knew he would have questions about her abrupt need to leave the party, but he was not going to cause a scene here. He followed her lead without pause or complaint, and for that she was grateful.
Harry ducked out of the room first, and Lily took the time to glance over her shoulder and search for that tall, handsome figure once again.
Riddle was gone though.