Consuming Shadows

Chapter 37

Hadrian's back was straight as he walked away, leaving Bella deserted on the dancefloor, unconcerned at how it could be perceived as insulting. There was a strange buoyancy to his steps as he went, the same one the boy had had all night.

Voldemort tracked Hadrian's progress, eyes pinned to the base of the other's neck. He watched, bemused as Hadrian seamlessly re-joined the company of young Draco and his peers. The boy integrated himself into their conversation smoothly, steadily ignoring the stares he was attracting from around the room.

He had known that Hadrian would not make this easy by any means. He had expected nothing less from the boy, after all. The calm front, the confidence, the arrogance – all of it was a mere mask, a finely made coat that Hadrian donned as protection.

He had expected all of it to be on show tonight. What he had not expected, was that it might not be a ruse.

His eyes narrowed sharply as he took in the loose way Hadrian held himself. The way his throat arched as he laughed at something someone said.

There was no sign of his fiery anger. No hint of the worry and fear that should be eating him alive. Other than the small flashes of unease and frustration that Bella had managed to coax out during their dance, Hadrian seemed to be unaffected by everything that had happened.

Doubt began to prickle under his skin and he briefly wondered if he had miscalculated something along the line.

But no. He had been sure. Hadrian had been reacting as he had predicted so far, and while the boy was skilled, he was not yet good enough to outmanoeuvre him.

The tension in his shoulders released as his assurance grew. He was certain that underneath that veneer of composure was a tempestuous sea of rage.

From where she still stood on the dance floor, Bella's head rotated towards him, her large eyes filled with a single question. He nodded slightly, and a pleased smile curled at the edges of her mouth. She moved into the crowd, on the hunt for Lucius.

Voldemort took a breath and closed his eyes as he reigned in the delight that seared through him. In just a few short hours he would finally have exactly what he wanted. The knowledge of his impending success was as rich as wine.

"Am I boring you, Lord Voldemort?" His current companion asked coyly, clearly done with being ignored. He reluctantly shifted his attention back to Simone Lécuyer.

"Of course not, Minister." He said smoothly. "Forgive my inattention."

She smiled at him, amused and knowing in a way that irritated him. Her flute glass tipped in his direction. "There is nothing to forgive," she said. "I find these talks dull as well, especially when there are more enjoyable things to be doing, yes?"

Her eyes darted off to the side pointedly, acting as a prompt. Voldemort followed her gaze to where Hadrian stood, speaking animatedly with Lucius' ward.

He looked back to Lécuyer and cocked an eyebrow, suspicion and intrigue blooming in his mind. Her smile widened the longer he refused to raise to her bait. Finally, she huffed a laugh. "Let us put aside the subtleties for a moment." She said, shifting into a more casual stance, her weight to one side and her arms folded in front of her stomach. The light caught on her earring as she tilted her head at him.

"You have a particular interest in my champion." She began, brazen and unapologetic in her approach. "I would like to know why."

His hands, carefully held behind his back, clenched momentarily. Normally, he enjoyed the occasional burst of boldness in his interactions. The spark was always so fun to play with before he inevitably smothered it. But this was one instance where he would have preferred otherwise. Annoyance rippled in his chest.