Smashed Glass

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"He was violent, he was cruel but he loved them."

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The silence stretched, it wasn't awkward and yet it wasn't comfortable either - it was severe and significant. Draco felt as if he was being burnt alive and perhaps that sounded dramatic but that was exactly it - vengeful fucking fire. It was invisible but he felt it, the orange blaze set his porcelain skin alight. The flame that was burning at his body was also stealing the air from his lungs. The heat didn't hurt as much as the smoke - the clouded fumes stole his breath away and caused his mind to fall to doubt.

What had happened? What had Hadrian done? Why didn't he know the answers to any of these fucking questions? Draco looked up at Hadrian, his eyes shining a fierce metallic silver. The swirls of grey blue rested upon the side of Hadrian's neck condemning the bloody mark. Pure frustration worked its way up Draco's spine, it was like a slithering serpent - stony and sinister.

Daphne's gaze locked on to Hadrian's shirt collar, her warm brown eyes growing darker as she eyed the deep red mark of blood. For all they knew the stain of blood could be due to a simple accident shaving or something else just as innocent. For a slight moment, guilt hit Daphne hard, right in the chest. Did she assume something that hadn't happened? What sort of friend was she? And yet, perhaps due to Hadrian's turbulent reputation or perhaps due to the dark assiduous shadows roaming in his eyes - Daphne knew otherwise. Something had happened tonight, something terrible.

Lucius Malfoy's eyes flickered away from his son's tight features and eyed Hadrian Potter with a look of cold hesitation. The green eyed boy had always harboured an inner battle, a ravaging remnant from his home life. Lucius watched as furious emotions crashed and washed in Hadrian's eyes - they were raging, like the ocean, cold and utterly depraved. Lucius Malfoy had always liked Hadrian, from the very beginning he had always felt responsible for the Potter heir.

Perhaps that was why, despite the warning signs blaring through his skull, Lucius ignored the stain of blood that coated the side of Hadrian's neck. There was so much significance in that smeared blood stain - Lucius was ashamed to acknowledge the sudden unease churning his stomach.

Swallowing tightly, Lucius glanced down, his gaze finding Alec Morti's dance shoes. They were shiny black, expensive - a European leather, perhaps Spanish? Lucius clenched his jaw shut. He knew he was the only one to see it, everyone else was too busy staring at Hadrian - they hadn't noticed. The blood had dried, it was now hard, the red had cracked on the tip of Alec's shoe. A surge of unease clambered its way through Lucius's bones. He didn't react, instead he remained utterly silent. You see, Lucius Malfoy knew bad times were ahead, but tonight, he just didn't want to have to face them.

Hadrian Potter felt the group physically stiffen - it was almost instant. In a filtered blink, their eyes had fallen from his face and fixed to the side of his neck. The fear flashing in their eyes warned him of what it could possibly be. Hadrian didn't move an inch, he remained calm, acting as though he hadn't noticed their reactions - he became passively impassive.

Narcissa Malfoy frowned, unsure why her son had frozen - his features had hardened into a statue of white polished stone. It made him seem unapproachable, his strained darkening features warned the world away. Narcissa had never before seen her son act so fearless, so hard. Narcissa glanced over at Hadrian, her breath escaping her lungs as she took in the tall, dark boy. Narcissa prized herself on being able to see what others couldn't.

In the past, Narcissa had always considered Hadrian to be fragile and she had assumed that this vulnerability was due to his fractured family life. She had always seen Hadrian's innocence, his desire for family and friends. But now, looking at the green eyed boy she felt pieces of herself tremble. Hadrian was staring at Draco hard, his unforgiving eyes not giving away a single emotion. No, that wasn't right. Narcissa could see anger, she could see the kind of masculine emotion that drove all men to confrontation.

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