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Chapter Text

Amanda Cole was a woman of calculation. She had to be, being responsible for so many young lives in those hard times.

Could they afford taking in another orphan? Should she use the meagre budget of the orphanage to buy new uniforms? (The sponsors liked the visual representations of their money being used, after all.) Should she put it aside for emergencies? If one of her chargers fell sick, should she just… let them be? On and on, Amanda’s life was a constant balance between risk and reward. She fancied herself somewhat of an expert in that area.

So when a woman stumbled into the orphanage one cold December night, all of Amanda’s instincts screamed at her to deny her entrance. The strange woman was heavily pregnant, yes, but as long as she still breathed and the child was still in her belly, she was, technically, not Amanda’s problem.

But then, the smell of sharp winter air broke through and she knew that she had something unique on her hands – an opportunity. So she played ever the hospitable host, calling for some of the younger girls to grab clean washcloths and hot water.

Later, after the labour has come to an end, Amanda would wonder at the unusual determination that filled her entire body in those late night hours.

For now, her hands moved without pause – almost methodically. They opened the woman’s dress and smoothed the matted hair from a sweaty forehead. Amanda couldn’t help but notice the stranger’s soulmark.  ‘Quite an ugly thing, aren’t you?’

True, the woman was no great beauty, but she still didn’t envy her for having the reminder written on her skin. (Her own mark – a faded thing – itched almost mockingly. ‘We’ll have great fun, you and I’. ) Still, when all was said and done, when the young mother held her son for the first time, it was clear she regarded the father of the child with great affection.

Amanda briefly wondered if the father was the same person who spoke the mindlessly cruel words visible on the other woman’s skin, but then quickly chided herself. Besides being heavily frowned upon, marrying anyone else but your soulmate was illegal. In addition, she couldn’t imagine anyone willingly lying with the woman in front of her, lest they were married. She was ripped from her thoughts by a quiet and hoarse voice coming from the bed.

‘His name is Tom Marvolo Riddle, after his father and my father.’ Having nothing to say, Amanda nodded. It was, she supposed, a fine name. ‘Marvolo’ sounded exotic and like a name worthy of a lord or a royal. Did she, by chance, indebt a daughter of a wealthy family to her?

All her schemes and plans of using such a connection stuttered to a stop when the unknown woman (Mrs. Riddle, she corrected) lost her consciousness. Hastily taking the new-born away, she barked orders to her temporary assistants. The night wore on, but it was already too late. Mrs. Riddle was dead.

Days later, as Amanda watched the boys of the orphanage dig yet another unmarked grave she knew she had a decision to make. She could simply let the infant go. It would not be unheard of – a stressful and early birth led to a weak child, after all. It happened all the time and no one would blame her.

However, as she took another deep breath, the same sharp and cold scent from before assaulted her senses. And, just like that, she knew she would care for this child (at least as well as she did for any of the others). As Amanda ascended the steps to the nursery she could only ponder at what rewards this boy could bring. Perhaps his father would show up, elated at his son’s wellbeing? He’d have to be rich, of course. And he’d be eternally grateful to Amanda and Wool’s, without doubt. She smirked to herself.

She did know how to tilt the balance in her favour.

Chapter Text

For all that soulmarks were widely considered a blessing, mankind was still puzzled over their origin and general rules. Soulmarks existed already in the earliest recorded history (although scholars suspected they have been more of a pictogram and have later on evolved to suit the ever-changing human language) but even now, there were only a few undisputable facts about them.

1. They were always, without fault, your soulmate’s first words to you.
2. They never disappeared completely – they faded slightly with your soulmate’s death, but they were still visible and legible.
3. They would always appear before you met your soulmate.

An addendum has been made in regards to the last statement in the recent years. Although the soulmark would appear, without fault, before the fated meeting, there seemed to be no rhyme or reason for its timing. It has been theorised that its appearance was prompted by the birth of the younger half, but it has been disproved. It was, after all, easily checked as the date of the appearance of one’s soulmark was diligently noted and recorded in the government files.

In the past decade multiple studies have been conducted to determine the influence of one’s soulmark on their mental and physical development. Majority of the studies has been inconclusive. Really, there were so many different soulmarks and first meetings that forming any general statements was bound to be a failure from the beginning.

Tom Marvolo Riddle closed the heavy tome with a dull thud. His studies, while interesting, have not brought him any closer to the answers he was seeking – when exactly will he meet his soulmate? He didn’t need some pompous scholar to tell him how his mark has affected his life. He still remembered the day it had appeared and changed everything, exactly two years ago.

He had been eight at the time and was just beginning to understand the expectations Mrs Cole held for him. Really, he thought with a scowl, how foolish she had been. Back then, she still put stock in his father’s supposed wealth and with every day he didn’t miraculously appear, she grew bitterer towards Tom. As though it was his fault that the man was too stupid to seek him out. However, he thought with satisfaction, it all changed the day his soulmark has finally bloomed on his skin. Coincidentally, it was also the last time anyone dared to mention Tom’s father.

That fateful summer day, Tom and Mrs Cole had another one of their ‘falling outs’. They didn’t happen often, as Tom had always been just a bit too calm, too still. It suited Mrs Cole, because it meant he didn’t require as much coddling as the other children.

When he had started craving knowledge, taking to his letters and numbers faster than any of his peers, she had been quick to put his talents to good use. (Wool’s budget was truly awful, Tom had to admit).

As such, she had been willing to overlook many of his…incidents.  The young boy has realized early on that as much as Mrs Cole put up a front of a good Christian woman, she truly only worshipped at the altar of Opportunity.

(He hated they had that in common).

Still, for all the benefits their business-like arrangement had, there were some things Mrs Cole couldn’t let slide.

On The Only Day That Mattered, (as Tom has come to refer to it), he was reading one of the few books that were in Wool’s possession. The boy was seated underneath an apple tree in the yard, avoiding the other children. He’d have preferred to stay inside but Mrs Cole has declared she didn’t trust him enough to leave him unsupervised. As Wool’s had hardly any caretakers to spare, Tom had been shuffled out (herded like sheep and oh, it burned) and ordered to stay within the sight of one of the assistants.

It wasn’t his fault that Billy Stubbs was completely incapable of recognizing his betters and had chosen that exact moment to try to intimidate Tom. The specifics of his goading escaped Tom’s notice, distracted as he was by the slight itching on his ribcage. He didn’t pay it any mind at first, trying to focus completely on his book.

Reaching up to scratch at his chest, he vaguely registered when Stubbs’ whining tone took on an aggressive note, but it was too late.

When a dirty hand snagged the collar of Tom’s shirt, his first reaction was to look for one of the caretakers. He didn’t need them to defend himself -on the contrary, he’d rather they be absent, lest they report one of his ‘incidents’ to Mrs Cole.

Just as he caught sight of Miss Tapleton, she turned around, leading a crying orphan back into the building.

So much for the adult supervision, Tom thought wryly. Spotting the matching grins on the faces of Stubbs’ gang, the boy realized the distraction must have been planned on their part. It was surprisingly clever, considering he knew for a fact that the majority of them still struggled with reading and writing.

No matter, this just made things easier for him.

The young boy was broken out of his musings when Stubbs jerked the hand that was still wrapped around his shirt.

‘Bet you’re not so cheeky now, huh?’

A smirk made its way on Tom’s face but he remained silent. It was so funny, seeing Stubbs lose his patience. His insults always struck harder when the other wound himself up. True to his prediction, Billy’s face turned an ugly shade of red and spittle flew out of his mouth as he continued his barrage of threats.

‘You think you’re so much better than us, with your fancy books and numbers?’ Here, the boy’s gaze landed on the title of the book lying innocently on the ground.

The Soulmate Science was the one book in the whole orphanage everyone was aware of to some degree as it provided reassurance and evidence that even orphans would not be alone forever.

An ugly sneer marred the bully’s face.

 ‘Well, you’re a freak and not even your soulmate will want you once we’re through!’ An almost pleased expression made its way on his face as he continued.’ Your soulmate must be as much of a freak if they’re stuck with you!’  

The day that had started as warm and stuffy was suddenly cold and unwelcoming. Even the children further away felt the change and they huddled together, clueless as to why.

How dare he. Tom felt an icy mess of something begin in the pit of his stomach and travel up all the way to his chest, which now burned fiercely instead of itching like it had the whole afternoon. He didn’t care what those worms spewed about him – they were so far below his notice.

(But he never forgot, would not, could not. Their time would come.) 

He briefly considered grabbing the offending wrist in front of his face and just snapping but managed to restrain himself.  It would take way more than this for him to willingly touch a dirty pig like Stubbs. Instead, he focused on the feeling of ice in his veins and directed it towards the other boy. For all he usually tried to rein it in to avoid Mrs Cole’s lectures, he had no such compunctions now. He just had the overwhelming need to defend the pristine reputation of his future soulmate (whoever they might turn out to be).

However, while his willpower was made of iron and steel, his body still had its limits. Thankfully, the brief outburst of the strange icy feeling was just enough to light the collar of his shirt and Billy’s hand on fire. It did not seem to be an ordinary fire either – the flames burned the deepest black with the shades of violet and they did not affect Tom in the least. Indeed, at first it seemed like they didn’t affect Billy either. It was only after black smudges started appearing on the tips of the other boy’s fingers that he yelled out in pain. His hand, curiously devoid of blisters, was covered in black, bruise-like marks instead. Tom detachedly thought he’d read about something like this – a frost bite, it was called.

Billy’s screeching has instantly caught the attention of the other caretaker, Miss Lakeland. She hurried to their side, looking alarmed and throwing confused glances at them. Tom stood there, fascinated with Billy’s fingers which seemed to be turning blacker and blacker with every second that passed. By the time Miss Lakeland got to them, Stubbs was on the ground, his eyes wide and fearful. His lackeys surrounded him, as though anything they did could stop Tom.

‘What is going on?’ asked Miss Lakeland. Tom had to give her credit – she was one of the few who did not immediately throw obscenities and vulgar insults at him.

‘It’s that freak, Miss L!’ shouted one of the boys, as if on cue.

‘Yeah, it’s all on him! Billy just wanted to have a look at the book, but that freak wouldn’t let him!’

Those accusations and lies were nothing he wasn’t used to, but it still stung, knowing he wouldn’t even be allowed to as much as utter a single sentence in his defence. Some feeling he could not identify burned low in his stomach.

If none of them could see how special, how powerful he was even when the evidence was right in front of them, how could he expect his soulmate to? He felt no remorse for his actions, as Stubbs deserved every second of pain for insulting his other half. He only felt anger at how powerless he was, for how would he protect his soulmate if he couldn’t even protect himself?

Those thoughts were accompanied by the sweet, sweet sounds of Billy’s sobbing and the whining of his peers. By now, surely, one of the other orphans has gone to fetch Mrs Cole. Miss Tapleton was silent, not indicating whether she believed the boys’ claims or not. Quietly, she turned to Stubbs and carefully attempted to straighten out his blackened fingers.

Somehow, Tom thought her efforts were futile.

And then, just as he was starting to think they’d stay there forever, in the dusty yard with the sun slowly setting, a voice he knew all too well spoke.

‘Silence.’ Mrs Cole has arrived, Miss Tapleton at her side, looking frazzled and anxious. Instantly, all the orphans parted to let them through.  Mrs Cole’s small, black eyes took in everything and everyone until finally they rested on Tom, unblinking.

‘I see.’ She spoke slowly, never once breaking eye contact.

Tom has never hated her as much as he did in that moment. Sure, he knew she loathed whenever he did something ‘freakish’, but they had an agreement, did they not?

‘Stubbs, Riddle, Paver and Johnson, all follow me. Miss Tapleton, Miss Lakeland, please stay behind to look after the children.’  Without uttering another word, she turned around and headed back inside, presumably to her office.

Tom started moving, his legs taking one step after another, seemingly without his input. The itching feeling has returned and it seemed to double in intensity, only serving to distract him further. Behind him, he could hear snickers and whispers.

The short trip seemed to be endless and to drag on all at the same time. Before he knew it, he stood in Mrs Cole’s office, like he had many times before.

Is that it, then? He thought. Am I about to face the streets or worse yet, the priests?

Tom was no stranger to the church officials and he wasn’t afraid of the hard life London had to offer. But he still had so many things to do and he wanted to be great, greater than anyone has ever been before and how could he do that if he had no roof over his head and no books and no numbers to learn? His breathing sped up, but he fought hard to keep it under control, for he’d rather die than give the other boys the satisfaction of knowing how much their little ploy has affected him.

Finally, all of them were standing in front of Mrs Cole’s desk. She eyed them silently and sighed.

‘Paver, close the door.’ As soon as the boy did as instructed, she opened one of the many drawers, and took out what appeared to be some sort of cream.

‘Stubbs, come closer.’

Billy, no longer crying but still cradling his injured hand, neared the desk. He seemed torn between being wary of the strict caretaker and exultant he was able to get Tom in trouble and once again prove how ‘freakish’ he was.

As soon as he was close enough, however, Mrs Cole’s hand shot out and snagged the injured limb. Ignoring his muffled squeals and protests, she forcefully opened the clenched fist. Making a vague humming sound, she handed him the cream and let him go.

‘Go to the kitchen and get yourself some lukewarm water. Soak your hand until it stops stinging and then apply the cream. Come back here in the evening so I can look at it again and then we’ll decide if it’s worth dragging you to see the doctor.’  She turned to the other boys and made a shooing motion with her hands.

‘The two of you better make sure he does as I said, unless you want him to lose his fingers. And don’t get into any more trouble today, am I clear?’

The boys seemed ready to argue – would she really kick them out of her office before they could hear what she had in store for the freak? But as soon as she mentioned the possibility of Billy losing his fingers, they decided it wasn’t worth it. They’d find out soon enough what Riddle’s punishment was.

With one last round of whispered jeers and insults, the boys left. Tom refused to admit he felt somehow more at ease knowing they wouldn’t directly witness his latest humiliation.

However, it seemed like Mrs Cole had other plans.

‘Sit.’

Stunned, he sat.

And stared.

In all his years at the orphanage, she has never allowed him to sit in her presence. Rather than put him at ease, this unexpected change in behaviour unnerved him.

The caretaker took her time, slowly sliding out one of the slim cigarettes from her stash under a stack of bibles. She lit the white stick and inhaled.

Once, twice.

If this was some sort of a ploy to make Tom crack and admit to his wrongdoings, she could not have chosen a more futile method. The boy was determined to outlast the stars themselves, if it meant his defence of his future soulmate would not be in vain.

‘I think it’s time we had ourselves an honest chat, Tom.’ Her voice was flat, devoid of even the usual undercurrent of wariness.  ‘I’m not in the habit of lying to myself, especially when all the proof is right in front of me.’ She gave him a sharp look, almost as if she could see into the centre of him.

‘We both know that whatever happened to Billy’s hand, you were the one who caused it.’

Tom’s lips thinned, but he resolutely remained silent. In his experience, nothing he said could change her opinion, if she even listened to him in the first place.

‘But I’m not particularly concerned with that.’

Did the outburst of the icy power earlier drain him? Was it all a convoluted hallucination, in which Mrs Cole suddenly exclaimed they were the best of friends? He watched her take another drag of the cigarette as she continued.

‘I have never doubted there is only one God, high in the heavens. I would be inclined to believe you were the furthest thing from one of His children, being able to do the things you do. However…’ She broke off, looking to be in deep thought. One of her hands reached to rub at her thigh, almost absent-mindedly. ‘His will and His… gifts are not always easily understood.’

By the time she finished, Tom’s eyebrows have migrated to the very top of his forehead. Was she really saying his powers were some sort of a gift, when she had always reacted with disgust and fear? He mutely watched her stub the cigarette out.

‘That being said, I do not believe it makes you special.’

He knew it! All this, just to underline how freakish she thought he was, how abnormal.

‘You have no control over what you do. I have never seen you use your gift in a way that would benefit anyone, even yourself. Ultimately, your actions are flashy and utterly inexplicable. Do you understand the potential consequences? Can you even imagine what would happen to this place if word got out I had no control over a mere seven-year-old?’

She took a deep breath and continued, looking as though she was walking to her own death.

‘I cannot help you understand the gift you possess and I have no means to subdue you.’

A small smile crept up onto his face. She was basically handing him all her vulnerabilities on a silver platter! He ignored the jab at his lack of self-control; he knew he’d get there eventually.

Mrs Cole responded with a smirk of her own.

‘Nonetheless, I will not treat you any differently.’ She paused, sneering. ‘Did you really think it would be that simple, child? If I ever regarded you as a real threat, you’d be cold and starving on the streets the very day you set the table on fire for the first time.’

Tom winced at the memory, but Mrs Cole barrelled on before he could interject.

‘The reason why I’ve decided to take a leap of faith and keep you here has nothing to do with your gift.’

Here, she stopped, as though waiting for him to finally weigh in on the conversation. He didn’t want to give her the satisfaction but curiosity burned through him, bright and unrelenting. It might be his only chance to get a peek at what she really thought of him and he could not deny the value of such insight.

‘Please, do enlighten me. Was it your inner kindness?’ His voice wasn’t quite as sarcastic as he wanted it to be, but no matter.

‘Yes, partially.’ She said, her tone dry and grating. ‘You see, I don’t particularly enjoy putting in time and effort in fruitless endeavours. At first, I thought your familial connections might make up for your actions. When it became clear no one was going to claim you, I did consider handing you over to the Church.’

Tom knew she didn’t mean he’d make an excellent choir boy.

‘However, I couldn’t deny that your work and your school results were miles above everyone else’s. And this is what made me keep you.’

He had to admit he was disappointed. He already knew he was superior to all the other orphans. Was he supposed to thank Mrs Cole for stating the obvious?

‘This is something I can help with.’

Tom couldn’t help but laugh. She wanted to have an honest chat?

That was just fine by him. He’d give her honesty.

‘Isn’t that grand? You’ve finally found someone you could help!’ He gave a bitter laugh and shook his head. ‘What a noble goal as well – helping an orphan who is too young to understand the evil this world has to offer.’ There was something gathering, slowly filling his veins and culminating in his chest.

‘Let me make something abundantly clear – I do not need your help. I was just fine with our agreement in which I ignored you and you ignored me, in exchange for my assistance with your budget issues.’  Before he could continue and wind himself up even more, she interrupted.

‘And what will you do, when you are no longer useful to me? I could easily hire an accountant – it will be an unnecessary expense but at least I’ll know he won’t injure the children under my care.’

Tom had no response to that. He supposed life after orphanage was nothing more than a vague dream at this point – him, in a position of power with his lovely soulmate at his side.

‘Regardless of what you might think, I take pride in running this institution. If you still won’t believe I only have your well-being in mind, then ask yourself this: will you ever be able to meet your soulmate if you’re homeless and penniless?’ With that, she gestured to his chest, where the ripped collar of his shirt revealed some curling black letters.

Letters that weren’t there this morning.

Hand shaking, he looked down and ripped his shirt open the rest of the way. Stumbling back, he ran to the small mirror on the wall.

The handwriting was messy, as though rushed. But the words…. Oh, the words themselves were so much more than he could have ever hoped for. A fierce burn in his eyes and a sudden inability to speak were a testament to his shock and overwhelming gratitude. If those were the first words his soulmate would ever say to him, how would it be to hear something similar every day onwards?

At that moment he knew he’d do anything just to ensure he’d hear the words sooner rather than later, even if it meant forgiving Mrs Cole for her past transgressions and accepting her help. Taking a deep breath and attempting to pull his shirt closed (the words were his, his precious treasure to protect and cherish), he faced the woman once more.

‘I believe we have ourselves a deal.’

Chapter Text

Hi guys!

I'm really sorry for not posting so long and not responding to comments. Life got harsh and took all of my enjoyment out of writing. I'm making a focused effort though to get back into it. I cannot promise an update soon, but I did get myself a beta who will motivate me (hopefully).
Stay safe and healthy!

Chapter Text

One September afternoon found Hadrian Black hiding in the bushes of their English manor’s gardens and fighting tears that steadily made their way down his face. His soulmark has just come in and the implications were staggering for the 10-year old. He kept trying to make sense of the words – wasn’t his soulmate supposed to love and cherish him? Maybe it was a mistake? Maybe some new curse made up by his cousin, made solely to torment him? He tried to remember his occlumency training, so he could calm and think it through rationally.

First off, he conjured a piece of cloth he could tie around his wrist so the words would not taunt him anymore, the skin around them still pink and sensitive. Next, he started running through the list of reasons why the words were not relevant. They were taken out of context, after all. Maybe the person was joking (a treacherous voice in his head muttered they’d have to have a really bad sense of humour) or maybe they heard something from his cousin and after they’d get to know him better they’d change their minds? And anyway, he probably still had loads of time before he met them, so he could rationalize and get used to the words. He could even come up with a clever response that would show his soulmate how good he could be for them, how great they would be together. Breath slowing, he hiccupped once more and pat his cheeks dry. A couple more deep inhales and he felt relatively ready to face the rest of this horrible day.

Usually, people spoke of the day they got their words with fondness, but it figured he’d be an exception in this.

Little Harry was so distracted by all the thoughts running amok in his head that he completely missed the sound of voices growing nearer and nearer. He was focused on getting out of the bush he was tangled in, and it never crossed his mind to check his surroundings.

As it was, just as he managed to rip himself free of the bush, he tripped and knocked into something hard. Clutching his now-hurting head, he blinked back the rest of his tears and looked up at the most beautiful man he has ever seen.

The man he has basically run into and who was scowling fiercely at him.

Recognizing him as an important guest, Harry instinctively bowed, which exposed the Malfoy crest on his back. The cloak was one of the few things that he was given by the Malfoy family. To (as Draco had sneeringly put it) make sure people wouldn’t mistake him for a servant. Even though he was technically a Black, ever since his mother’s death his father did not deem him important enough to really bother with him at all. Aunt Narcissa has felt it was her duty as the sanest Black sister to take care of him in some capacity in the absence of his mother and father. Even then, she wasn’t the most nurturing woman and he was mostly left to his own devices.

He was torn out of his thoughts when he heard a scoff full of derision coming from above. The man’s face was set in a thoughtful frown and Harry instinctively lowered his eyes.

‘So this is the infamous heir? A sniffling child? You bring shame to your name, boy.’ After a pause in which Harry was too shocked to really say anything, the man sighed. Before he could say anything else that would only devastate him further, Hadrian tore out and ran in the direction of his room, heedless of the hot tears streaming down his face. Thankfully, he hadn’t ran into anyone who could question him and he was ensconced in his bed soon enough.

Time passed, but the young wizard paid it no mind. 

There might have been an elf asking him to come down to dinner, or even a knock on his door. Thankfully, the wards recognised he was in no state to speak to anyone and didn’t allow them entrance.

By the time the moon was high in the sky, Harry’s cheeks were dry.

He forced himself to sit up and read his words again.

And again.

And again.

Until he was sure they were seared into his very soul, and that he would remember them always.

Calling for his personal elf, Cheery, he asked for a large breakfast, knowing he would not get any sleep that night (nor any night that followed, for a long time).

After all, he had work to do.

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Impatient fingers drummed a nonsensical rhythm on the table. A leg jittered up and down, side to side.

He sighed.

Sitting in his favourite spot was usually enough to help him achieve the state of perfect focus.

Not today.

His thoughts were slow, introspective. Dust particles held his unwavering attention for about twenty minutes, until someone dropped a book further down with a whispered curse.

He wasn’t afraid of being discovered. His nook was ensconced by the wall, a relic of a time before the east library wing was added. He could see it in his mind’s eye: a long, stretching balcony with intricately carved balustrade and the perfect view of rolling hills of lavender and blue skies. Even now, the stained glass windows offered a peek at the seemingly endless mountains.

He would be forever grateful to his inborn curiosity for leading him here.

On one of his more restless days, he had been browsing the odd stack of papers and found the old plans of the school. Intrigued, he found himself wandering the grounds and comparing the changes. In the long run, it was exceedingly more useful than he’d suspected. He discovered a plethora of hidden passages and places of power. Truly, in terms of mystery and excitement, his current hiding place ranked quite low. But he cherished it all the same, for in all seven years of his education, none of his well-meaning friends have managed to come upon it. Even though he could lean out of the balustrade and watch his peers, they couldn’t see him, thanks to some handy invisibility and protection runes cut into the wall.

It was his sanctum and he was loathe to leave it. Needs must, however, and with one last look at the setting sun, he turned away.

Walking down the curving steps, he pondered at last week’s events.

The beginning of every school year was usually a turbulent time for Hadrian Black. It always reminded him of a fated and disastrous meeting and the decisions that followed it. Even now, their consequences haunted his every step, every instance he saw his now markless arm. Hiding it wasn’t easy and took a lot of time and determination. But now, more than ever, he was convinced of the necessity of concealing it.

Before he could think of other ways of remaining unnoticed, he caught a movement out of the corner of his eye. Mindlessly, he ducked and fluidly slid out his wand out of its holster. His tense frame relaxed as soon as he heard a familiar-sounding grunt of pain.

‘Can you at least pretend to be startled? It’s unnatural, that as you best friend I have yet to know what your surprised face looks like, after all those years.’ Came a muffled grumble.

‘If your ways of eliciting surprise were more effective, you wouldn’t have to waste so much time trying to imagine it. On that note, have you thought about maybe surprising me with something nice, for once?’ Harry chuckled and helped his best friend, Nolan, up.

‘You wound me. I’m always nice, especially to you.’ Brushing his wheat blond hair out of his face, the handsome boy leered. ‘I could be even nicer, if you’re in the mood…’

Hadrian snorted and continued walking.

‘When am I ever in the mood? Besides, I doubt the rest of the school could handle the sight of us together – think of all the broken hearts we’d leave in our wake.’

‘And this is the Harry I know and love! Always so considerate and humble to boot. Now tell me,’- a strong hand snatched his shoulder and Nolan’s face came extremely close to his own -‘are you quite done brooding in your secret lair? Is it safe to talk about what happened this week?’

The Black scion could feel his face shutter down. He briefly considered denying, but knew that once Nolan caught a scent of any potential drama, he’d want to be the first one to know all the details and he’d do anything to get to the bottom of the matter.

‘Fine. But I don’t think this corridor is exactly the best place to discuss things, don’t you agree?’ The other boy nodded and as one, they turned in the direction that led to the outer gardens. They passed few students on their way, seeing as majority of the school was still enjoying dinner.

For every secret spot Hadrian had found in the old documents, there were at least ten more that were only discovered through the word of mouth. Beauxbatons Academy prided itself on having a very strong relationship with their alumni and they in turn made sure that their children were well-prepared and started their schooling with a veritable fan of facts and secret nooks to choose from. The place they were now headed to was a lesser-known make-out spot.

When Nolan’s mother told her son about it, she wistfully mentioned her lovers always became calmer and more focused, hearing the gentle rush of the fountain from above and that the light watery breeze felt amazing on naked skin. Hadrian, upon first hearing that little detail, gagged, but as they started coming here more and more often, he thought he understood the nostalgia (without the naked part, thank you very much).

The tall fountain was the first thing they saw as they arrived in the garden. It depicted a Valkyrie on a Thestral, sent to escort a brave warrior from the battlefield. Legend had it that as soon as the helmet fell from the warrior’s head revealing a maiden’s face, the Valkyrie has been struck with love at first sight The surprise and tenderness were well-captured by the artist, outdone only by the fierce pride and headstrong glare of the warrior.

Were they soulmates? Harry had always wondered. Would they have recognized each other, even without saying anything? His own experience dictated there was no instant recognition unless one uttered their words, and he stopped his musings as soon as he remembered his first meeting with his soulmate.

Too soon for his liking they were right beside the fountain and he could see his best friend getting impatient.

‘Here we are. If you’d like, I can make some very convincing noises, to ward off any eavesdroppers.’ Nolan said, and Hadrian thought he looked just a tad too eager to really be joking.

‘No need. I have it covered.’ Harry wandlessly raised a muffling ward, adding in an invisibility layer, just to be safe. His friend arched an eyebrow at the extra security measures, but remained silent.

Not wasting any more time, they both sat on the soft grass.

‘So, what do you know about what happened?’ Hadrian asked. Nobody said he had to reveal all of his secrets at once, even to his oldest friend.

Visibly amused, Nolan began. His tone had taken on a melodic quality and he listed all of his observations almost rhythmically.

‘Last week, Madame Maxime has made an announcement during dinner. Apparently, Minister for Magic in England has decided he fancied himself a little tournament between schools. Seeing as we are one of the most prestigious academies Europe has to offer, we have received an invitation to participate. Of course, Madame has agreed and has elected to take ten of her most accomplished students to take part. Which, unsurprisingly includes you and me. Since then, you have been brooding constantly.’ A brief pause and with a look in Hadrian’s direction, he pitched his voice higher, almost obnoxiously so, and asked ‘How did I do, honey?’.

Involuntarily, he chuckled.

‘Well enough, if you want to drone on with dry facts like Mephista does.’ They both shuddered. Their etiquette teacher, Madame Mephista was as boring as she was strict. However, even the threat of emulating her was not enough to distract Nolan. He simply raised an eyebrow and waited.

‘You know my father and I do not exactly… get along.’ Hadrian put it as delicately as he could, but it was one of the better known facts in Europe that the current Master of the House of Black absolutely loathed his Heir. However, no one knew the exact specifics and Harry intended to keep it that way.

‘We haven’t spoken in years and I’m about to turn 17…’ There, he trailed off meaningfully. Really, he couldn’t begin to imagine how that interaction would go. Would he be disinherited? Would his father even recognize him? Hadrian didn’t particularly care. After all, he has made a name for himself here and he couldn’t be less bothered about the Black family business if he tried.

But, going by the soft look of understanding Nolan was giving him, it worked perfectly as a cover.

Truth to be told, Hadrian didn’t know how to feel about this trip to England. He hasn’t been back for years and he never even saw Hogwarts.

It might be a great opportunity to see the school library, or even better, sneak into the family’s manor and have a browse. The thought cheered him up, but it didn’t lessen the anxiety he felt at the possibility of seeing his soulmate again.

‘You know, I’m not even sure that your father is involved. Wouldn’t the organisation be handled by Hogwarts’ Headmaster?’ Nolan’s careful and optimistic phrasing shook him out of his thoughts and he smiled at his friend’s attempt at cheering him up.

‘Perhaps. But I’m more than sure he will be present at some point. He is the Minister’s lapdopg and the whole farce was his idea.’ Rolling his eyes, he slowly dismantled the wards and turned to go. Nolan followed, biting his lip as if holding in laughter.

‘I know you don’t like him, but you have to agree, Minister Riddle is a hot piece of work’. Blue eyes sparked with mirth. ‘Don’t tell me you wouldn’t invite him to enjoy the breeze under the fountain, if you had the chance.’

Hadrian almost stopped at the sudden images that flooded his mind. Him and Riddle, sitting together, talking amicably. Maybe Harry would impress him with one of the more complex spells in his arsenal and Riddle’s eyes would be full of admiration and awe and … something more.

He had to snort. Considering that he never intended to say a word to that wretched soulmate of his the entire scenario was wholly unlikely.

‘You know what the rumours are – one wrong move and you’ll find himself under a Crucio. We both know I’m not exactly the most subservient person and I’m not overly fond of pain either.’ Sighing, as if it were a great hardship, he continued ‘I think I’ll pass and instead do my very best to stay under his radar.’ At those words, his friend nodded sagely.

‘Yes, that is true. Best to just admire from afar quietly – can’t let the bastard think he has anything on us in the looks department’ The careless sentence startled a laugh out of the Black Heir. Somehow, Nolan always knew how to make him feel better, even if Hadrian wasn’t fully truthful.

Yes, he thought fondly all will be well.

(He’d remember those words weeks later, staring into crimson pupils and think: why, oh why, would he be dumb enough to ever think that?)

Chapter Text

Sitting in a flying carriage pulled by a herd of purebred Abraxans, Harry supposed he should be feeling something. Excitement, curiosity, or even fear. He was, after all, hurtling at high speeds towards people who have caused him a lot of pain in the past. Instead, he was… numb, or at least as close to it as he could be without alerting Nolan something was wrong.

The weeks leading to their departure went by quickly. Thinking back on it, Hadrian was surprised he hasn’t failed any of the start-of-the year exams, as distracted as he was. But he had a reputation to maintain and he has put in too much work over the years to let such a trivial matter undo all of his achievements. His plan for surviving any possible encounters unscathed was simple: to keep a low profile. He had no need for fame or money – if possible he wanted to avoid taking part in the whole tournament and thus, minimize the chance of being recognized, either by his family or by his soulmate.

Sighing again, he caught Nolan’s eye and forced himself to smile. His friend didn’t deserve the cold front he has been putting on during their journey. So, braced and determined to pretend nothing was amiss, he asked one of the questions that were plaguing him.

‘How do you reckon the participants will be chosen?’ Hadrian could see the inquiry surprised the other boy. No wonder, since the tournament and its particulars were almost a sure-fire way to spoil the Black Heir’s mood recently. Thankfully, instead of pursuing this particular angle, Nolan decided to be merciful and answer quickly.

‘It does seem to change every time. I heard that some of the previous ways included a magical artefact called The Goblet of Fire, another was a simple exam that determined one’s knowledge and magical level, and although I’m not too sure, my mother maintains that one year they just pulled the names out of a hat!’ Harry could see his friend was getting worked up and he smirked discreetly. ‘Honestly, you’d think we were muggles, to stoop down to something so simple and pointless…’ Seeing Hadrian’s arched brow, he quickly stopped and resumed his musings. ‘Mother has heard from Madame Paffett, who’s a high-ranking Ministry official, that this year is going to be completely unprecedented! Apparently, since Minister Hotness himself was so involved, the magic used to choose the participants is one that hasn’t been seen ever before.’ There, Nolan stopped and squinted, as though trying to use Legilimency on Harry. ‘Why are you asking? Are you worried you will be overlooked and encompassed by my amazing shadow?’ he asked teasingly.

Harry laughed in response, even though unease was stirring in his gut. A way that hasn’t been seen before? This would admittedly complicate matters, since his original plan was to simply pretend he signed up for the tournament and then act crushed once he wasn’t picked to avoid suspicion. He couldn’t very well devise a plan that would counter whatever magic his soulmate came up with, although he was curious, almost ravenous for knowledge of what it would be.

‘I would only be ever so lucky to bask in the rays of your brilliance.’ He ended up saying, in what they both dubbed his ‘slick politician’ voice. A moment of silence passed and they erupted in laughter, Nolan reaching over to push at his shoulder in response to the gentle teasing. They tussled for a moment, completely at ease in the carriage space, unconcerned about the disturbance they were causing.

They should have paid more attention, as soon the distinct click-clack of high-heeled shoes broke their laughter. Cowed even before looking, they froze and then slowly separated, turning towards the newcomer.

Madame Maxime towered over them, her piercing stare pinning both in place. For a beat, no one moved and then, as though pulled by invisible strings, the boys sprung up and bowed, their postures stiff but perfect. The Headmistress was not as strict about the proper greeting etiquette as one might suspect, but she still commanded enough respect to warrant it. Hadrian straightened first and met her eyes with a sheepish smile. She seemed to have somewhat of a soft spot for him, caused by a combination of his family circumstances and his excellent academic record, which added to her school’s prestige. In the corner of his eye, Hadrian spotted Nolan hastily straightening his robes and with a flick of his finger, his wandless magic washed over them both, fixing their appearance.

‘I’m glad to see you’re not so unaware as to forget your manners. Although going by the ruckus you were causing, you seem to be oblivious to the fact that we have almost arrived at our destination.’ Startled, the two students turned to look out the window. Indeed, in the distance, the first towers of the Hogwarts castle pierced the clouds.

Hadrian’s breath caught. Suddenly, all the emotions he’s been trying to suppress for the past few weeks came rushing forth. The enormity of what was about to happen hit him so hard he almost swayed. He tried schooling his face into a blank mask, but by the softening of Madame’s gaze he knew he hadn’t been entirely successful.

‘I have made my rounds around the carriage to remind everyone of what this trip means.’ Here, she paused until she had their full attention. ‘France’s and Great Britain’s strong relationship is mostly due to Minister Riddle and he is said to be extremely invested in this year’s tournament. We are guests and we are allies – I trust I do not need to remind you of how to comport yourselves?’ Receiving two nods in return, she continued. ‘However, should you ever find yourselves in a situation where someone is questioning your abilities or your honour, you have my full permission to prove them wrong by any means necessary.’ Here, she smiled toothily. ‘After all, a bit of friendly rivalry is crucial between allies, is it not?’ Turning to leave, she shot Hadrian once last glance and added ‘Be confident in who you are and what you can do, no matter what challenges this tournament will bring. I certainly am.’ The last part was spoken softly, almost inaudible over the clicking heels, but Harry heard it all the same and he allowed the words to wash over him. Taking his seat once more he smiled at Nolan, a new and strengthened resolve burning in his heart.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Hogwarts was… different. Scanning the castle subtly, the Black Heir tried not to move his head too much, or let his mouth drop open, like he saw some of his yearmates do. The school certainly had an amazing and impressive aura, but Hadrian didn’t need to see every nook and cranny to feel it. That was not to say he wasn’t curious, but after almost 7 years of admiring Beauxbatons’ white facades that glowed in the sun, Hogwarts’ stones seemed drab and uninviting. The wretched weather that greeted them did not help that impression, but a quick Impervious and a warming charm ensured he remained unruffled. Quickly, his eyes were drawn to the welcome committee. From his research, he recognized the current Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore and his deputy Headmistress, Minerva McGonagall. There was also a third person he couldn’t place, a man with long black hair and a crooked nose. Madame Maxime joined them and after exchanging their greetings (it was amusing to see the Headmaster reach up, instead of bowing to kiss her hand) they were finally welcome to enter the castle.

The first thing Harry noticed was the overwhelming sense of rightness. The magic here was wilder and more free than the structured flow he has always felt in France. It seemed to tease at his hair and mingle with the air he breathed into his lungs, prompting him to take in several greedy inhales. The second thing that caught his attention was the group of wizards and witches standing nearby. Their uniforms let him know this had to be the Durmstrang delegation and he eyed them curiously. They seemed rigid, as though carved from stone. It did not deter Nolan, who caught some boy’s eye and smiled blindingly, prompting an endearing blush and a toothy grin.

‘We’ve been here for all of 10 minutes and you’re already flirting?’ Harry asked, thoroughly amused.

‘You never know, he could be my soulmate!’ Nolan defended and after a short pause turned with a sly smirk and continued ‘It doesn’t hurt he’s Victor Krum, one of the best seekers Bulgaria has had in centuries…’ Hadrian’s smile widened – he was used to Nolan’s game of making as many famous connections as possible before he had to enter France’s political scene. Suddenly, the conversations in the hall quieted as the mysterious man from before appeared in front of them, casting a Sonorous.

‘I would like to officially welcome you all here in Hogwarts. My name is Severus Snape and I am the Potions Master and the Head of Slytherin. I will also act as your guide during your time here, so if you have any questions or concerns, do not hesitate to inform me.’ He paused, taking stock of them all. For a moment, it seemed as though his gaze caught on Harry and his eyes widened almost imperceptibly. However, Hadrian blinked and the man was perfectly composed as he continued.

‘Please do not concern yourselves with flashy entrances – Minister Riddle and Headmaster Dumbledore are both aware of the long and exhausting journey you must have had.’ This prompted some mutterings form both schools. Harry had been marginally aware that some of his yearmates planned an elaborate dance that did not interest him in the least, more so now that he processed the words he just heard.

Minister Riddle… Hadrian has heard, time and time again, how invested his soulmate was in the tournament, but he had just assumed it meant he’d be present at the opening ceremonies and be part of the audience at most. Surely, as a Minister for Magic, he had enough on his mind? He’d never suspected that he would have to see him so soon after arriving, before he had any chance of strengthening his defences. Almost paralyzed with fear, he flinched when he felt Nolan grasping his hand tight. Grateful to be shot out of his stupor he nodded in acknowledgement and reminded himself he would do anything to avoid being chosen, thus ridding himself of any possibility of interacting with his soulmate.

As soon as he thought that, Professor Snape seemed to have finished speaking and the giant doors inched open. Both Nolan and Hadrian stepped to the front of their group, well-used to taking charge. Confidently, they followed the man to what seemed to be the dining hall. It had four large tables, each with a banner of some sort. Harry remembered reading about the four Houses - still young and naïve and convinced he would attend Hogwarts - and it seemed they were being led to the Slytherin table. Trying not to raise his gaze to the table at the end of the hall, Hadrian could nevertheless feel a burning sensation of eyes boring into the side of his face. He ignored it with much effort, automatically pulling out a chair for one of his fellow students (a Veela, enjoying the attention and no doubt already eyeing the fresh meat that was gazing at her adoringly). Soon enough, they were settled, when a voice came from behind.

‘Darf ich hier sitzen?’ Asked the boy that Nolan was wordlessly flirting with before, a blush on his cheeks and a quiet determination in his eyes. Hadrian was about to agree, when he saw his friend’s reaction – his jaw has dropped open and he seemed weirdly speechless. Frowning, Harry reached out a hand when Nolan smirked and responded flawlessly.

‘Nur wenn du mein Seelenverwandter bist.’ The line was delivered with a hint of a teasing smile, but the Black Heir could read the hope and the yearning in his friend’s eyes, as well as the mounting uncertainty the more time passed without any sort of response. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Victor Krum nodded and sat down, with the same toothy grin he had in the entrance hall. He offered up his palm, and quietly asked ‘May I?’. His accent was thick but understandable and, going by Nolan’s reaction, apparently endearing. The two boys grasped hands and gazed at each other stupidly, drawing more and more stares from the people nearby. Hadrian cleared his throat subtly, hating to ruin the moment but trying to return the favour by snapping his friend out of his haze and avoiding drawing more attention to themselves. Thankfully, it seemed to work and Nolan straightened, offering his soulmate another disarming smile.

‘My name is Nolan Leche, your soulmate and the best Beauxbatons has to offer. And you handsome, are Victor Krum.’

‘Oh, am I now?’ Viktor’s brow raised in amusement.

‘Unless I am mistaken, then yes. And I am very rarely mistaken.’ Nolan winked, cheeky and confident as always. Hadrian saw the softening in the Quidditch star’s eyes and knew the two of them would be trouble. Before he could feel proper dread at the thought, his best friend turned, as if just remembering his presence.

‘And this, dear soulmate, is my best friend, Hadrian Black.’ The amused light in Nolan’s eyes turned hard and cold, ruthless like the Dementor’s hold. ‘He means a lot to me. I hope you two will get along.’

Viktor’s eyes flicked to Harry the moment he learned his full name, but rather than pity or disgust they only expressed some slight curiosity.

‘I am sure that any friend of my soulmate’s will become a fast friend of mine.’ He said, evidently catching Nolan’s hidden threat.

And Hadrian, for all he knew the friendship they shared was strong, could have never predicted that his oldest companion would threaten his soulmate for his sake. It made something latch onto his lungs and stomach and though he wouldn’t admit it anytime soon, he was touched and relieved to have someone care for him so deeply, for once. He quickly locked the feeling in place, hoping to return to it later, and smiled at Viktor.

‘I’m simply relieved he won’t just be my problem anymore. Although I congratulate you on finding your soulmate, you also have my condolences.’ His tone still cheerful, he continued.

‘Do you think you have what it takes to deal with this troublemaker?’ It wasn’t an idle threat, or a concealed scare tactic. Hadrian was genuinely curious. Well-aware of all the pitfalls that came with being an Heir to one of the wizarding families, he waited to gauge the Quidditch star’s response.

Krum sat back, mulling the question over. The fact he didn’t blurt out the first platitude that came to mind was already a point in his favour, but he wasn’t out of the woods yet.

‘I have always been taught that there is a reason Mother Magic puts soulmates in our path. Sometimes they are our foundation, the fundament we need to grow. Sometimes, they are the salty water seeping into our cracks and wounds so that we can change and accept our flaws.’ Viktor took a deeper breath and turned to his soulmate, making the effort to look him straight in the eye. ‘I do not know which one of these we will be for each other, but I am willing to learn and to have you by my side, in any capacity you will have me.’ There was a moment of silence before Nolan let out a loud laugh, turning to Harry, happier than he’s ever seen him.

‘I should have known that I would get the smoothest-talking bastard on this planet.’ Turning back to Krum, he added in a purr ‘I hope you know I’m going to need more of that in the nearest future?’ Viktor, looking relieved that his answer was apparently to his soulmate’s liking, nodded, still stunned from seeing Nolan’s blinding smile. Introductions made, the two started talking, pulled into each other’s orbits and content to ignore everyone else. From the fond and understanding looks of the people around the table, Harry surmised that such reaction to meeting one’s soulmate was the norm.

Swallowing back the bitter tang of disappointment, he turned to face his plate. He was so consumed with his chat with Viktor that he failed to notice food appearing. Breathing slowly, Hadrian took the time to scan the room. He could see the people from the other tables were shooting some nasty looks in their general direction. Jealousy? Harry knew that Slytherin was not the most popular House, but surely it only made sense to place the exchange students there, as their table was the least packed? Determined not to dwell on Hogwarts’ inner politics, he started picking at his dinner, barely tasting the food. So much has happened over the last hour – he needed to calm down and think his course of action through.

After a few minutes, an excited buzz started rising around him. It wasn’t just the fervent murmuring of awe-struck students. It was the magic, both theirs and the castle’s, rising and undulating in the direction of the teachers’ table. Harry’s own core quivered, as though undecided whether it wanted to reach out or to shrivel and hide. He swallowed, not needing to turn to know who has just entered the Great Hall. He managed to hold still for a few more seconds before he needed to turn and see him.

A thousand thoughts ran through his mind – would he be just as grand, just as intimidating and handsome as Harry remembered him? Would his gaze hold the same amount of disdain and casual cruelty as it did that day? With a final exhale, he finally took in the entirety of his soulmate’s figure.

And blinked.

Then blinked again.

The man he was looking at exuded a powerful aura. He was tall and his cheekbones were just as prominent (and no doubt devastating in closer range) as Harry remembered. Cocking his head to the side, he tried to pinpoint what exactly changed.

His soulmate seemed… tired. Worn down and bored, barely paying attention to the adoration from the entirety of the student body. One couldn’t tell at first glance, of course. The Minister’s face was set in a pleasant smile and Hadrian saw he made an effort to personally greet every single witch and wizard sitting at the table.

But it was his magic that has caught Harry’s attention. It wasn’t the oppressive and violent aura he has felt back when they had met for the first time. It flowed, grand and placid as the lake near the castle. The change was too drastic to just assume his mood was better this time around – maybe he's learned how to hide it?

It took him entirely too long to realize that, as intent as his stare had been, it had caught the Minister’s attention. The fully-focused power of those red eyes should have made him recoil in remembrance of their disastrous first meeting, but it only made him straighten. And, just like that, he knew what had changed.

They met for the first time with Harry at his most vulnerable, a weak child with no support system. Now, he has explored his magic, and knew it to be no lesser than his soulmate’s. He had friends he could count on, and allies that would fight for him.

He was Hadrian Black, and soulmate or not, he knew his worth damn well.

All those thoughts came and went in a blink of an eye, but they were just enough for him to send Tom Riddle a cheeky, challenging smile.

And if it sent a pulse of shock and interest through the man’s aura, well, things happen, don’t they?