Son of Magic

Chapter 18

December 7th, 1941

Hogwarts Library

He kissed him.

Hadrian had kissed him.

It had been no more than a close-mouthed kiss—innocent, warm, and perfect—so, so perfect.

It had been different from the snogging his classmates always bragged about and enjoyed describing in such explicit detail. It had been different than he'd envisioned it would be—better than he'd envisioned—so much more enjoyable and satisfying.

As Hadrian's lips had moved against his, he'd felt cherished—cared for—protected.

It had meant everything to him.

He'd felt...something so strong that even now, hours later, it still painfully echoed within himself, serving as a harsh reminder of something that wasn't his—something that might never belong to him.

Hadrian had kissed him. Then, just as suddenly as it had started, it ended.

He'd been so close—so, so, close. Close to something he'd thought that he'd never feel and experience—something he thought himself incapable of—perhaps even undeserving of.

And now he didn't know if he'd ever get that chance again—the chance to feel something other than hollow or angry.

He could still feel Harry's lips brushing against his—could still feel his hands on him. And the way he'd looked at him as if there was no one more important to him than Tom....

He'd called him beautiful and then proceeded to inform him that he wanted to kiss him.

Hadrian had done just that, and then it was simply over, unfairly taking that wondrous and unexpected feeling away from Tom.

He felt robbed—bereaved of something he couldn't even name.

He felt angry, abandoned—jilted.

Then there was the bitter jealousy that bubbled beneath his skin, causing what he feared might be a permanent stinging itch all over his body. He felt jealousy for the person responsible for keeping them apart—deep envy that he couldn't shake no matter how hard he tried. Because what did they have that Tom didn't? What memories had Hadrian regained that could possibly come between them?

Why had Hadrian stopped? Why had he pulled away from him?

Was it because he was a mudblood? Was he not handsome enough for him? Had Tom kissed him wrong?

He'd wondered so many times what it would feel like to kiss him. It had essentially been all he could think of since Hadrian had beaten Abraxas and Avery into submission with his powerful display of wandless magic.

Well, he needn't wonder anymore because now he knew—knew intimately what it felt like to have Hadrian's sweet lips pressed against his own. Knew what it felt like to touch him and be touched by him in return. Knew what it felt like to have his fingers running oh so tenderly through his hair—blunt nails scraping urgently down his skull.

He knew that now. But he now also knew what it felt like to be pushed away by him—knew what it felt like to be rejected and walked away from.

What had he done wrong?

He couldn't help but wonder—couldn't do anything but wonder and think and agonise over every moment between them last night.

He wanted to stop because it hurt—